by ANDREA SMITH
OMC, along with Ohio Iron bikers, were meeting in Fort Wayne to start the run that would have taken these stuffed bears, along with legitimate toys to Charlotte, North Carolina. Slate said that the stuffed bears had been torn open. A sealed container holding a kilo each of cocaine had been discovered. There were a total of thirty kilos.
“How did that benefit Jack?” Brenda asked.
“Well Slate explained that Jack had been the connection for the cocaine. He had negotiated a fairly good price from his connection in Chicago; around $12,000 per kilo. Jack had purchased twenty kilos. He then commissioned the chemists at Banion to cut it with some sort of baking soda and magnesium/silicon mixture. After that, the twenty kilos became thirty kilos.”
“Oh my God,” Brenda replied, “He pulled a ‘bait and switch’ on the bikers?”
“Apparently so; he figured they would never find out because they were moving it to the Charlotte area where a kilo of cocaine sells for around $27,000. So Jack invested $240,000 for twenty kilos; he sold thirty kilos to the OMC for a total of $441,000. He netted a $200,000 profit; no one was any the wiser.”
“So that means that Jack and Susanne fled the country with about a million dollars in total?”
“At least,” I said, “Slate says they were pretty good at laundering the money so it could be more. He says eventually they will surface; it could be years though.”
“Wow,” she sighed, “How is Lindsey with all of this?”
“She’s come to terms with the harsh reality of the man her father is, I guess. Her relationship with Adam couldn’t have come at a better time. Did I tell you she received a letter from Jack?”
“No shit?”
“He must’ve paid someone to mail it from El Paso a couple of weeks after he crossed the border. It was brief and to the point: he told her he was sorry; that he loved her and always would, and to make better choices than he did.”
“Oh wow; small consolation for the pain and misery he’s caused everyone,” she replied, “So what now?”
“I’m having my family meet Slate this evening. I’m going to let Lindsey know about us. I really think she will be okay with it.”
“Well good luck with that; call me tomorrow and let me know, okay?”
“I sure will.”
I was in the kitchen, marinating the chicken breasts when Slate got home. He came over and gave me a warm kiss, hugging me as he always did when he got home.
“Sammie - we need to talk,” he said.
(Oh God - that was never a good thing to hear from someone you loved.)
He took my hand and led me to the living room, pulling me down on the couch next to him.
“My job here in Indianapolis is over; I’ve got to wrap things up and report back to D.C. next week.”
(My heart thudded; I had known this day would come eventually, but I still was not prepared for it.)
“What does that mean for us?” I asked softly.
“I guess that depends on you. I love you. I want to marry you. I want you with me in D.C.”
“You know that I love you, Slate.”
“Call me Eric - please? When we are having talks of this nature it just helps if you call me Eric.”
I smiled at him. “I love you Eric; but there are some major obstacles with all of this. You have to know that.”
“Like what?”
“Like our age difference for instance. You may think you want this right now, but marrying a - a cougar might not be so appealing a few years from now -”
He broke into a wide grin, his dimple appearing.
“Sammie,” he said, “My age was part of my cover for this investigation; just like my ‘biker’ persona. I’m not turning twenty-seven today.”
“You’re not?”
He shook his head, grinning like a fool.
“You mean, I’m not a cougar?”
He laughed his beautiful, sexy laugh and pulled me to him, kissing my face.
“Technically, I think you are a puma,” he said. “I turned thirty-two today. So you see, you are just a smidgeon over four years older. No biggie, right?”
“Why in the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“I meant to, babe. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
“I suppose,” I replied, “But there are other issues besides that.”
“What else?”
“What you do for a living; I’ve seen first-hand how dangerous it is. I don’t know if I could handle always being worried about you; or the things you have to do as part of your cover.”
“Like what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” I said, my cheeks turning rosy.
“You mean the thing with Garnet?”
“Yes.”
“Well babe, it’s not like that is in my job description you know? I basically let that happen because I was pissed off at you.”
“Oh really? I thought it was a way to get inside info?”
“There are other ways; I wouldn’t do anything to lose your trust,” he stated. “As far as being in a dangerous line of work; it comes with the job at times. I can’t promise you that I will never be in danger again. It is what I do, Sammie.”
I knew that I loved Eric no matter what; I loved him for everything that he was; I wouldn’t change a thing about him.
“What would I do in D.C?” I asked.
“Be my wife and my son’s mother,” he said with a grin.
“What if I want to be more than that? I mean, that is what I was to Jack; you can see how well that worked out.”
“Babe - if you want a career, you are free to have one with the obvious exception: no dancing.”
“I can handle that restriction,” I said, “As long as I can still dance privately for you.”
“That’s a must,” he said softly, leaning in and covering my lips with his, kissing me gently.
“I’m not even divorced yet,” I said, pulling away. “How do I go about doing that when I don’t know where to find Jack?”
“I already checked into it. You can file for a divorce on the grounds of desertion and abandonment. Notices of the filing have to appear in the hometown paper four times within a period of a year. If Jack files no answer or counterclaim to the suit, your divorce is granted at the end of the one year period.”
“I guess we’re going to have an appropriate engagement period then, Eric.”
“Then you will come with me?” he asked, his eyes warm with love and happiness.
“I always do,” I replied softly, circling my arms around him and pulling him to me for a kiss.
Epilogue
Falls Church, Virginia
November 5, 2013
I was putting the finishing touches on my make-up; Lindsey was fussing with my hair. She was trying to weave the tiny white flower and beaded garland through the hair piled up on top of my head.
“You are a beautiful bride, Mom. I am so happy for you.”
“I am so lucky to have you, Eric and Bryce,” I replied, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.
I thought back to a little more than a year ago on Eric’s birthday when we had sat Lindsey down and filled her in on everything. She had been fine with it; she understood that we would be married soon after the divorce was final.
She had looked at Eric and me; our happiness was evident.
“There’s just one thing,” she had retorted, “Don’t expect me to call you ‘Daddy, got it?”
Eric and I had looked at her then glimpsed the slow grin that graced her face. She was more than okay with it.
Her relationship with Adam had gotten serious; Lindsey had switched schools so that they both attended Indiana University and shared an apartment. I was thrilled for her. She was going to be taking a position with Banion Pharmaceuticals after graduation.
My home had sold; along with Jack’s car providing a sufficient nest egg for Lindsey’s tuition, along with a nice down payment on a house for Eric and me in Falls Church. We had agreed his bachelo
r pad was not an appropriate place to raise our baby.
Bryce Eric Slater had been born on November 30, 2012 in Falls Church, Virginia. Eric had been right there with me during his birth, which had gone well. He had been a week early, but weighed 7 lbs; Eric said he was destined to be a football player. He also said he wanted one more baby, insisting it be a girl next time. I had told him I would do my best.
There had been no further word about Jack or Susanne; the warrants were still out for them. Everyone else that had been involved in the criminal activities now spent their days and nights behind bars in various prisons; most of them wouldn’t see life on the outside for many, many years if at all.
Brenda came bustling into the dressing room in the church basement with the bouquets for Lindsey and me. She had arranged them herself in radiant fall colors; they were gorgeous.
“You both look ravishing,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve got to get back upstairs; your mother and your soon-to-be mother in-law are about ready to come to blows over whose turn it is to hold Bryce. Eric has assigned me to referee. Here is something borrowed for you Sammie,” she said, pressing a small velvet box into my hand.
I opened it; it was a beautiful diamond pendant; very delicately encrusted in a gold, filigree setting.
“Oh Brenda,” I breathed, “It’s exquisite.”
“It was my grandmother’s,” she said, fastening it around my neck. “I wore it when I married George; look how well that has turned out. I wish the same for you and Eric.
She leaned over, kissing my cheek. Her eyes had tears in them.
“Don’t start crying, Bren; if you do I will; then my make-up will have to be totally re-done,” I said, waving my hand in front of my face to dry any tears that were trying to surface.
“I love you like a sister, Sam.”
“I love you too, Brenda. Make my mother share, okay?”
She gave me a wink and quickly departed; I fingered the beautiful pendant gently.
“Are you ready, Mom?” Lindsey asked, handing me my bouquet.
“I am,” I breathed happily.
The sound of organ music floated downstairs. It signaled it was time for Lindsey and me to make our way upstairs to the vestibule where we would wait for the wedding march to begin. Lindsey was my maid of honor; Taz was Eric’s best man.
Lindsey gathered up the train to my gown, throwing it over her arm until we got upstairs.
“Come on Mom; they’re playing your song.”
I stood at the front of the church facing Slate. I called him Eric now, because that is what he wanted; but he was still ‘Slate’ in my heart. He was the one who had taught me about love and passion; he was the one who fought against intimacy because he didn’t trust it. We had both learned to trust it just as we trusted one another. He was my lover, my protector, my very best friend.
I gazed up into those incredibly blue eyes that were watching me with love and passion; behind us we could hear Bryce’s little voice calling out for me, getting fussy in his Grandma Katy’s arms. My parents were sitting next to her, helping her to entertain him as the ceremony was beginning.
Eric and I both glanced over at them and smiled as the baby quieted and the minister began the traditional recitation of vows. He took my hands in his and squeezed gently; I raised my eyes to his once again as he quietly whispered, “I love you, Diamond Girl.”
About the Author
Andrea Smith is an Ohio native and currently resides in southern Ohio. Ms. Smith is the mother of two grown sons, and grandmother of four. The ‘Baby Series’ trilogy was Ms. Smith’s first self-published work. Having previously been employed a number of years as an executive for a large, global corporation, Ms. Smith decided to leave the corporate world and pursue her life-long dream of writing fiction. She credits her former employer in a large part for assisting her in making this career choice. Ms. Smith discovered that reality is often times stranger than fiction (in Corporate America.)
Her latest book, 'Diamond Girl' is loosely based on actual events that occurred in the summer of 2012 in Fort Wayne and Indianapolis, Indiana involving a wide-reaching federal bust for various criminal activities involving the Outlaw Motorcycle Club. The characters, along with other fictional clubs, events, companies, and business establishments depicted in this book are purely fictional.
If you liked this book, check out some other great books by Andrea Smith:
Baby Series:
Maybe Baby
Baby Love
Be My Baby
Baby Come Back
