Diamond Girl

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Sammie,” Slate continued with a smile of his own, “I’d like for you to meet my mother Katherine Slater; you can call her ‘Katy.”

  (Holy shit!)

  CHAPTER 46

  (SLATE)

  What a fucking few crazy days had gone by. So much had happened; most of it good from my perspective. We had made the bust; it had all gone down well for the most part. I was livid that the rat bastard had slipped through the cracks. No one knew that better now than Agent Hatfield; he was getting a written disciplinary action that would go into his permanent personnel file. Mistakes like that should never happen; not on my watch.

  The bottom line was that Hatfield should have known better. He and I had both served together in the Army and had gone through Green Beret training together. Hell, we were on the same survival training for twenty-one days in the Mojave Desert. If you can’t trust and assess the abilities of your lifeline partner in that situation, who could you depend upon? He had gotten lax; he had clearly fucked up. As his superior officer, I had to do what I did; personal feelings could not enter into my decision. That is just how it was.

  Then of course there was the issue of Sammie; how in the hell could I not let my personal feelings interfere with my best judgment? Fuck! I was trained better than this - what the hell? She was under my skin in a big, big way. I had let her distract me; I had carried on with her even after I knew that she had no Intel to offer me. She had no value for all intents and purposes in this investigation as far as I knew.

  What a fucking idiot I was for not being clued into the fact that she was ‘Mr. Big’s’ fucking wife? Oh yeah, don’t think for a minute the title of ‘Mr. Big’ that was given to him by the Outlaws hadn’t stuck in my crawl once I knew who he was to Sammie. It had nothing to do with the size of one’s dick; it was the fact that the title ‘Mr. Big’ in and of itself denoted power. There was no way in fuck that this dude had more power than me. Period.

  I thought about last night - the night I had spent with Sammie all alone in that fucking huge house of hers. She was under my skin. There was no way that I could not think about the way she looked; the way she felt; the way she kissed and touched me, the way it felt to be buried deeply inside of her and hear her moan and feel her writhe beneath me. It hadn’t been a line of shit whatsoever when I told her that my cock was made for her pussy. It was the God’s honest truth. I had never ever had that before with a chick.

  But then the inevitable happened; the talk of love; ‘I need you Slate; I love you Slate.’ Christ - how in the hell was I supposed to deal with that? I had never, ever told a chick that I loved her. Why? That was simple; I never, ever wanted to give them the pain that was associated with love.

  My mind drifted back to when I was growing up; it was just me and my little sister. My dad did his share of partying and drinking. I was too young to understand the full ramifications of it. I figured that was just what dads did. I remembered him coming home drunk. Mom had made dinner; we had eaten and then were sent to our rooms once he hit the door.

  Mom would warm his dinner up and take it out to him, setting it in front of him at the dining room table. She would wait and eat with him. She had said it was important for a husband and wife to spend quality time together.

  Laney and I would be upstairs in our room. We only lived in a two bedroom duplex in Virginia. We had bunk beds, I remember. Laney was younger so she had the bottom bunk. She would lay there on her bunk and play with her stuffed animals, talking to them as if they were real. Pretty soon the raised voice of my father could be heard. Laney would roll over onto her stomach and put her pillow over her head and start humming some nursery rhyme.

  Not me. I would strain to listen to what my old man had to say. It wasn’t pretty.

  “What kind of goddamn shit is this you’re giving me to eat, Katy? It tastes like dried out dog shit!”

  “I’m sorry,” my mother would say patiently, “It was better when it was freshly made Clint. I didn’t know you were going to be so late in getting home. It’s just a bit dried out.”

  Then the sounds of skin smacking skin could be heard, along with my father’s chastisement that my mother should have had fucking sense enough to know how to keep a meal from tasting like dried out dog shit. The whole time my mother would be apologizing; the slapping just continued followed by my mother’s crying and begging for him to stop.

  I remember several times running downstairs and hollering at my old man; telling him to leave my mother alone. He laughed and called me a good for nothing little shit stain, backhanding me so hard I flew against the wall. My mother would try her best to protect me standing in front of me to take the blows he delivered.

  The following day she would come upstairs after he had left for work; her eyes would be blackened. She would cry and beg me not to interfere anymore.

  “Mom,” I had said to her, “I need to protect you from him. I don’t want him to hurt you anymore.”

  “Eric,” she had said in a very solemn voice, “Don’t you see, son? You’re not big or strong enough to protect me. All you are doing is making him angrier; then he beats me harder when you interfere. Please son, I am begging you to leave it alone.”

  At the end, I promised her that I would quit interfering. So after that, whenever it would happen I would lay on the lower bunk with Laney and hum along with her as we tried our best to block out the sounds of my father and what he was doing to our mom.

  Afterwards, my father would try to make up with my mom. He would tell her that he did what he did because he ‘loved’ her and wanted her to be the best wife that she could be. He explained that if he didn’t ‘love’ her, he wouldn’t care that she didn’t know how to cook properly or how keep her man happy. He had claimed it was all for love that he disciplined her. It felt sick to me. I wanted no part of love if that was what it entailed.

  I thought about this morning when Sammie told me that she loved me. It came as no surprise; I was instinctual that way. I had known for a while that she loved me; it was the greatest feeling in the world. I wanted to tell her that I felt the same way; that I had for some time. I couldn’t though. It was an area that I had no experience with other than with my own folks. I was scared that by saying it to her I might become my old man.

  My mother had suffered through years of his abuse. It had pissed me off so many times that she took it. She claimed my dad was ill; he was not in his right mind when he was drunk. I know by today’s terms my mother was an ‘enabler.’ She loved the man despite everything. She didn’t realize how much her ‘love’ for him had destroyed Laney.

  When my mother wrote to me in 2003 while I was stationed in Iraq, that my father was terminally ill, all I felt was relief. When he died a few weeks later I felt nothing at all.

  My mother’s life had finally become bearable for her once he was gone. She had picked up the pieces, opened her restaurant and was doing well, until once again she had to face despair with the death of Laney. That one was difficult for both of us. Laney had claimed that she was in love with a biker from a rival group of the Mongols out of Manassas, Virginia a few years back. He was abusive and criminally involved like the others. Laney had become hooked on opiates.

  My mom and I had reached out to her; we had helped her to get clean. She had been clean for six months when she wanted to do something to help the others like her.

  She took it upon herself to become acclimated with some bikers from the Mongols. She wanted to provide me with information to help bust the drug ring that was fairly strong in the area. I was with the FBI by this time; I told her to leave it to us, we had agents that could easily infiltrate the club. I happened to be one of them.

  That was the start of my undercover work with the FBI. I had led the investigation two and a half years ago that had successfully sent Jake Rosiga (Milwaukee Jake) the National President of the Outlaws Motorcycle Club to prison for the next twenty years.

  Through my infiltration of the east coast based club, the Mongols, I wa
s able to connect with the club members of both the Outlaws as well as another rival club called the Pagans. In 2010, it came to a head at the Easyrider Bike Expo in Charlotte, N.C. There was a show of force, so to speak, with the Pagans and Outlaws joining forces to invade territory in Rock Hill, South Carolina that was traditionally ‘Hells Angels’ turf.

  It had resulted in violent friction between the Outlaws and Hells Angels. Laney had been in the thick of it; she had been found in a remote ravine outside of Rock Hill; her throat had been slit.

  Ultimately the investigation had led (through members ratting out other members) to the OMC club activities in Fort Wayne and Indianapolis. This thing was much bigger than anyone had initially imagined. There was a multi-state network of bikers, rival or not, that still dedicated their efforts for the bottom dollar as long as they got something out of it. My anonymous sources pointed to an OMC member in Indiana as being responsible for Laney’s murder. I was fairly certain it was Slash.

  During the subsequent investigation starting in the fall and lasting through spring in Indianapolis, was how I met Diamond, aka Sunny, aka Sammie. She had blown my world apart, first reminding me of the innocence my sister had once possessed, then totally mesmerizing me with her sexiness and naivety - it was a potent mix to be sure.

  I thought back to the night I sat across the table from Diamond having a private drink. Despite all of the make-up she had piled on, I saw her black eye. I was enraged as the memories came flooding back from my childhood that someone would have done that to her. Then I was disgusted that she would tolerate it; just the way I had been disgusted with my own mother for tolerating it all of those years.

  Laney and I had talked about it shortly before she died. She told me that because I had no tolerance for those kinds of things I expected everyone else to feel the same. She pointed out that I had unrealistic expectations where people were concerned. She suggested that I work on being a bit more flexible and compassionate.

  I had thought about that conversation after the night I saw Diamond with the black eye. It stuck with me; I was fascinated with her from the start. I ignored those little voices that had served as my barrier for many years; never allowing myself to get too close to a woman; forever keeping things superficial and carnal. I didn’t want it that way with Sammie. I wanted more; I wanted it all.

  CHAPTER 47

  I couldn’t wait to fill Brenda in on my meeting Slate’s mother. Katy was so bubbly and friendly; I had liked her the first time I had met her before I even knew she was Slate’s mom. I was touched that Slate wanted me to meet her. She of course had been de-briefed on my condition. She was tickled at the prospect of becoming a grandmother. She called ‘dibs’ on the name ‘Nana.’

  Brenda had squealed with excitement when I filled her in.

  “That is just too precious, Sam. I guess there is something to be said for today’s youth.” She cracked herself up with that one.

  “Nice Bren; real nice. I already feel like a ‘bloated’ cougar; thanks for reinforcing it.”

  “You know that I’m just teasing. After all, what is nine or ten years, right? By the way, maybe he has already turned twenty-seven. Have you asked him what his birth date is?”

  “No - we haven’t had that much time to talk, if you catch my drift.”

  “Like I said,” she replied with a heavy sigh, “there is much to be said for today’s youth, but I think now you are just bragging.”

  “Hey, I have a lot of catching up to do at my ripe old age. If I had known what I had been missing, I would have pulled my head out of the sand much sooner.”

  “Speaking on that subject, have you heard anything at all about Jack?”

  “Nope; last I heard Donovan said that they had ‘operatives’ in Mexico looking for him and Susanne. Of course he also said that it is an entirely different ballgame south of the border. If you want to disappear apparently Mexico is the perfect place for that.”

  “So what about this Susanne; have they connected her to any specific crimes?”

  “Not yet, but the forensic audit is still going on; according to Daddy, they should be finished by the end of this week and turn the findings over to the authorities.”

  “Unbelievable,” she sighed. “You know I was never a fan of Jack’s whatsoever, but Lord, a half a million dollars wouldn’t be enough to make me drop off the face of the earth forever, you know?”

  “Well I actually don’t think his grand plan was to disappear; I think he thought he could get by with it without raising any red flags. A half mil is just two year’s salary for him. Granted, it will go much further in Mexico than it would here, but he fled because he knew the jig was up. Plus, we don’t know how much cash Susanne had stashed if she was involved as well.”

  “That’s true,” Brenda replied, “Knowing Jack, he will probably invest his money in some drug cartel in Mexico and continue his life of crime. How’s Lindsey?”

  “Staying with Mom and Dad for a few days; she is in shock, I think. She is going back to work tomorrow. She is going to need the money for her living expenses at Cornell.”

  “Wow, things sure have done a one-eighty from a year ago, haven’t they?”

  “You ain’t a woofin’,” I replied with a laugh.

  “Careful Sam; you are showing your age!”

  “Bite me, Brenda!”

  Slate made his appearance later in the evening as I was making dinner. He spent an hour scoping out the security system that had been installed. He was impressed with the outside cameras that could be monitored from my new laptop. Slate sat down with me and went over it step-by-step, explaining it to me as if I were a two year old.

  “Slate,” I whined, “The guy from the security company already showed me this stuff. I know all about how it works.”

  “Oh really?” he said, cocking an eyebrow at me. “Well then let’s test it out shall we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I am going outside. It’s dark now; I am in dark clothes. You lock all of the exterior doors; check the panel to make sure all windows are secured and let’s see if I can get in okay?”

  “I have something better in mind,” I said coyly, pressing myself up against him. He squirmed away, placing his hands on my shoulders to hold me off.

  “Time for that later; this is important.”

  “Whatever,” I sighed.

  He went out the front door and I locked the deadbolt behind him. I checked the back door leading to the deck; the terrace doors from my room, and the door from the garage leading into the lower level of the house. All were securely locked.

  I went back up to the kitchen where my laptop was on the counter; there was a six screen split showing the various sectors the cameras covered. The main panel in the kitchen showed everything was set; including the lower level motion detectors.

  I sat on the kitchen bar stool staring at the computer screen. I could see the lights on cars going past the winding driveway on the main road; driveway was clear; back patio was clear; east side of the property was clear; west side clear as well. This was B-O-R-I-N-G.

  Several more minutes passed and I was still not picking anything up on the cameras. I started to get up off of the stool to go outside and find Slate when I felt someone behind me. Naturally, I let out a blood curdling scream.

  “It’s me, It’s me,” Slate said, “Calm down; it’s me.”

  “What the hell are you trying to pull?” I yelled, placing my hand against my pounding heart. “You nearly caused me to have a heart attack!”

  He pulled me against him, wrapping his strong arms around me and rocking me back and forth.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I was just about to announce my presence when you started to get up.”

  “As if that would have been less frightening,” I hissed. “How in the hell did you get in here undetected?”

  “If you’ve calmed down enough I will show you,” he replied. He instructed me to disengage the system so that we could move about without th
e motion detectors sounding.

  He then took me by the hand, leading me downstairs to the suite I was using. He had come in through the terrace doors which should have sounded an alarm. He showed me how he was able to bypass that by simply detaching the wire that was embedded in the threshold with some little gadget he had in his pocket.

  “What about the motion detectors?” I asked.

  “Go back up to the main panel and activate the ones for down here,” he instructed. Stay at the top of the steps and I will show you.”

  I did as instructed; he turned the lights off and then pulled another thingamajig out that looked like a flashlight and switched it on. Immediately, the red ultraviolet waves were visible; all he had to do was to stay underneath them which he managed to do very quickly and very well.

  “Well I’m impressed, Slate. I don’t feel very secure anymore, but I am impressed.”

  “Babe,” he said, “I’m not trying to freak you out; you just need to know that there are ways around this stuff. Granted, I learned this in the military but think about how many other people learned the same thing?”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Call the security company tomorrow and tell them you want your motion detectors upgraded so they scramble the rays; you don’t want straight line signals. As far as the exterior doors, there is not a lot you can do about that. I recommend you change the sheets on the bed in the master suite the rat bastard was using and we move up there. That way, the motion detectors can do their work.”

  What he was saying made sense except for one minor detail.

  “Well how will you get in at night?”

  “Through the front door by ringing the doorbell, I presume. The rat bastard has fled the scene, remember?”

  “There is still the matter of Lindsey, Slate. I simply cannot spring you on her after all she is going through right now. It just wouldn’t be right.”