by Lisa G Riley
He and his team were in the house in under three minutes. He and his brother took the upstairs while the other two men took care of the downstairs. A crack team, their movements were economical and methodic. Once upstairs, Brickman headed for the largest bedroom at the end of the hall. “Wait here,” he whispered to Jonathan. “This little treat is all mine,” he purred, palming his gun. Eagerness hummed along his spine like a mad, wild thing and it was all he could do to force himself to turn the doorknob slowly. “Fuck it,” he said and slammed the door in against the wall. He wanted to spray the room with bullets, but he wanted Caroline more, so he turned on the light, expecting to see them sitting up in panic.
What he saw infuriated him. The neatly made four-poster came as a complete shock. He stormed over to the bed and livid, shot a hole through a stack of decorative pillows just for the hell of it. Turning, he stalked to the bureau, and swinging his arms madly, knocked everything in his path off the top of it. He turned to the vanity and did the same. Making his way to a bedside table, he pushed it so that it and everything on it crashed to the floor. He was mute with rage as he created his destruction, not making a sound, only panting through gritted teeth.
“Alex,” Jonathan said from the doorway, and took an involuntary step back when the other man turned to look at him. There was an insane light in his eyes, shining out from a face rapidly turning purple. For a brief moment, Alex’s face was covered in confusion. Hesitantly, Jonathan walked into the room and over to his brother. He reached out and took the gun. “Ah…I see you know that they’re not here. I’ve checked the other rooms on this floor and they’re empty. What do you want to do now?”
Alex looked at him, and as if he hadn’t just been caught trashing a room like a rock star hyped up on cocaine, lifted an imperious brow and said, “How often must I tell you not to question me?”
Jonathan handed him his gun and nonplussed tried to explain as his brother walked away from him. “I’m sorry. I just…that is --”
“Never mind,” Brickman interrupted from the other side of the bed. He was smiling now. “Gather the men, Jonathan. And tell them we’ve got more planning to do.” He turned to face his brother and Jonathan could see that he was waving a brochure from something called the Grand Hotel in his hand.
Whistling now, Brickman walked towards the door. “Tell the boys they can take anything they like -- anything that’s small and portable and if it isn’t and they want it, they have my permission to destroy it.”
Chapter Ten
“So, I’m apparently going to Mackinac Island,” Essence whispered into the phone to Coop.
Coop sat up quickly in bed, his cellular phone held tightly in his hand. “Paragon? How did you get this number? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
There was something in her voice that said otherwise, and it made him sit up straighter in bed. “Something made you call before you were scheduled to do so. What is it?”
“It’s nothing special, but like I told you, I’m going to Mackinac Island. My friend and I are leaving tomorrow. All Rafe would tell me is that he’s being sent with a cousin on family business. This is to be Rafe’s initiation, I guess.”
“They’re bringing Rafael into the business?” Coop asked incredulously. “We had no inkling of this.”
“Yes, well, he doesn’t want it, but he feels he has no choice. Now listen because I’m going to have to hang up soon. From what I could gather from snatches of conversation I overheard between Miguel and this cousin, Tomás, the cousin we’re going with, they’re going to keep an eye on Brickman. It seems he suddenly changed his schedule and told them he’d be here at least a week later than he originally planned.”
“And Brickman’s on Mackinac?”
“Yes, that’s my assumption. If he’s not already there, he will be soon.”
“Well, Jesus, this changes everything.”
“I’ll say,” Essence muttered. “I’m no more knowledgeable now about the ends and outs of the cartel than I was before I came here. I’ve got nothing for you.”
“So Miguel isn’t going, but Tomás is.”
“Yes,” she said impatiently. “Should I go, or make up some excuse?”
“Depends,” Coop said thoughtfully. “What do you know about Tomás?”
“I know he stares at me like no man should ever stare at a woman unless she’s given him permission to do so.”
“Do you think he’ll try anything?”
“Of course he will. I’m looking forward to it,” she said with menacing anticipation.
Coop smiled unwittingly, “That’s my girl,” he said proudly. “Just don’t hurt him too badly, at least not until you’ve gotten useful information from him. Wait. I guess I should ask you if you think he has any useful information to share.”
“He might, yes. From what I’ve observed since I’ve been here, Miguel is grooming him as his successor.”
“All right, then. Go to Mackinac.”
“Duh. I’m on my way,” she snapped and hung up.
Coop held the phone away from his ear thinking he really would have to teach her how to be a goddamned subordinate. He called Ben and after the other man became fully awake, explained the situation.
“No, I don’t know why Brickman’s going to Mackinac, but I think we can both pretty well guess that that’s probably where Caroline Singleton is at the moment,” he said after Ben had asked. “I’m going to hang up now. I’ve got to call the airline to cancel my reservations for Mexico and then figure out the quickest way to get to Mackinac.”
***
“DID you read this, Alex? One night in that Masco Cottage place costs a whopping three thousand dollars…well, not quite three thousand, but close enough! At any rate, I’m betting it’s much more comfortable than what we were able to get.”
Brickman ignored his brother, knowing that Jonathan was needling him, trying to get a rise out of him. It was a new habit he’d picked up since Italy. He’d deal with it later, as he had bigger issues on his mind. Nothing seemed to be working the way he needed it to. First he’d been unable to find a room, a house, a cottage or any other kind of lodging available on Mackinac Island. Everyone was booked solid for the season already, so he’d had to settle for Mackinaw City. They’d ended up having to book at the Best Western there, which…he shook his head, not even wanting to think about it. It was less than a twenty minute ferry ride from Mackinaw City to the island, but that was twenty minutes too long. Caroline Singleton was on the island, so that’s where he needed to be: on. the. island.
To further complicate matters, when he’d called Miguel Guerrera to push back his arrival in Mexico, the other man had sounded suspicious and had insisted upon sending two of his nephews and their entourages, so Brickman’s man had had to book three other rooms. Therefore, they would take up an entire floor, which would likely draw unwanted attention. There’d been no other choice, his man had told him. A wedding had been cancelled at the last minute, which was the only reason the rooms were available, and the available rooms were all on the same floor.
And if all of that weren’t bad enough, not only were they leaving a day later than he’d wanted, but he was also stuck in a car for a six-hour drive with his brother and Ida, who moaned and groaned every time the car went over even the smallest of bumps in the road. But Brickman told himself all would be well in the end. Things would fall into place and he’d finally get what he’d been after for two years. He had to. He’d waited far too long and worked far too hard not to get what he deserved.
***
SITTING on the bed next to Caroline’s hip, Brian gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up, baby,” he whispered. She’d been asleep for a little more than twelve hours, having gone to bed the night before ahead of the dinner they’d planned because she’d been too tired. She had been sleeping more since they’d arrived on the island four days before, but they’d both put it down to the fresh air and them being just a bit more active than they were
at home. He knew she needed her rest, but she also needed to eat. It was time for breakfast, and he didn’t want her to miss two meals in a row. He shook her shoulder again. “Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.”
She frowned, made a sound of discontent and then tried to burrow farther under the covers.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he said and pulled the covers back and off so that she was completely uncovered. For most people, this would be enough to at least get them in an outraged sitting position, but not my wife, Brian thought with a shake of his head. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes; merely sighed, pulled a pillow over her head and curled up into a fetal position.
The sight of her long limbs bared by a white sleeveless tank and matching panties made him more than tempted to climb back into bed with her and do naughty things, but he nonetheless did his duty. “All right,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to do what I did the other day to get you up.”
“You wouldn’t be so cruel,” came the muffled reply, followed by a somewhat threatening, “or self-sabotaging.”
Brian grinned. “Oh, wouldn’t I? I have it right here in my hand, cranky pants.”
This brought a slight shifting of the pillow so that one eye peeked out suspiciously at him.
Giving her a huge, deliberately sappy grin, he sing-songed, “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey.”
The one eye went to his hand which held a dripping wet face towel and then back to his face, which held laughing intent. Almost before he could blink, she whipped her hand out and hooked him around his neck to drag him down so his face was in hers. She kissed him, and his original good intentions momentarily forgotten, Brian dropped the towel and scooped her up to pull her sideways onto his lap.
She broke from the kiss after a few moments, and he sipped from her mouth, making it last a little longer. “Good morning,” he offered.
“G’morning,” she mumbled sleepily, and eyes still closed, put her head on his shoulder and her arms loosely around his waist.
Brian felt her snuggle in, and since she hadn’t shown any signs of morning sickness, reached for the glass of juice on the bedside table instead of the ginger ale. He held it to her mouth, and she drank thirstily, placing her hand over his to hold the glass steady.
She finished and when he leaned over to put the glass back, kissed the underside of his chin. “Thank you for taking such good care of me. I’m sorry I make it difficult, but I’m just so tired.”
“Yeah, you’re such a bitch,” he teased. “I should have quit you a long time ago.”
Chuckling, she stroked his chest, her fingers pressing into the muscles. “You know…” she began huskily and he felt her fingers start to caress the skin exposed by his open collar, “I am hungry, but I can hold out a little bit longer,” she said suggestively and then rose and sat back down astride him.
As she began unbuttoning his shirt while trailing hot kisses along the skin as she exposed it, he gripped her butt in his hands and squeezed eagerly. “Sounds like a plan to me. This will only take a minute,” he promised, making her collapse against his chest as she broke up with laughter.
CAROLINE took a bite out of a huge tangy, but sweet, strawberry and continued to read from a book telling her what she should expect while expecting. Brian and she were having breakfast on the private terrace of the cottage. It was a beautiful spring day, and because Jae had taken himself to breakfast at the Grand Hotel, she wore nothing but a short, light blue silk robe and matching gown. Still feeling loose and fluid after their morning round of lovemaking, she had her legs in his lap. Absently he stroked her calf as he ate and read from the latest edition of Wired magazine.
She finished her chapter and put the book down. Sighing in contentment, she tipped her head back and viewed the cottage, thinking it was a perfect little slice of heaven. Compact in size, the white clapboard house had several green gable roofs that sloped upward and met in the middle. Some were small, others big and they all connected to cover the structure. Looking at it made her think of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables, one of her favorite books in high school. “Angels do not toil, but let their good works grow out of them,” she quoted softly from memory. Sighing because they only had three days left on the island, she wished they could stay longer than their reserved week.
She straightened. “Darling,” she called to get Brian’s attention.
“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his magazine.
“How would you feel about buying a place here? You know, as a getaway? I bet we could find a great vacation home here.”
That got his attention and he lifted his head to stare thoughtfully around as he continued to absentmindedly stroke her leg. “It is beautiful here.”
“And peaceful, too,” she encouraged helpfully, knowing he would likely need a lot of convincing.
“Yeah, but are beauty and peace worth what I’m sure would be an obscene amount for something probably no bigger than a hole in the wall?”
Caroline bit her lip. He was extremely cautious about spending large sums of money, even though they could afford to. This is where the differences in their backgrounds played themselves out, as she’d grown up wealthy and he’d grown up in the middle class. He was wealthy now, having made his money in the technology industry and escaping the bust a couple of years ago virtually unscathed, but he didn’t really like to spend it. While it was true that she was a trust fund baby; she didn’t believe in spending money frivolously. To her it was worth spending large sums if they were investing, and a house or cottage on the island would be a good long-term investment. She tried again. “I’m sure we’d get much more for our money here than we would at home.”
He frowned. “True,” he conceded. “But just how often do you think we’d make it up here?”
Sensing a crack, she leaned forward eagerly. “Oh, we would come often; I’m sure of it! We’re lucky to have the kind of careers that don’t demand we go to an office every day, so it would really be up to us, wouldn’t it? And I’ll bet it’s gorgeous in winter here. I read that snowmobiles are allowed on the island in winter. You love snowmobiling.”
His frown was back. “I do, but not enough to spend a couple of hundred thousand dollars for the privilege.”
“It would make a great investment for that bonus you got in January…you know, as far as taxes go.”
“I guess it might at that,” he said thoughtfully.
“Plus the real estate market is really strong right now. Will you at least think about it?”
He squeezed her leg. “Certainly.”
She smiled and then, “And maybe we can look at available properties before we leave the island?”
Shaking his head, he picked up his magazine and began reading it again, but she heard the words “I must be out of my mind” float through the air, and hugged her knees to her chest happily, knowing that he’d as much as agreed to go.
She took a bite of a buttery croissant that had now grown cold. Of course she could go out and find a house and take the money from their accounts to pay for it, but that wasn’t the way their marriage worked. She’d never make such a large purchase if he didn’t agree with it, nor would he if she didn’t. She reached out and pushed the magazine down until she could look into his slate gray eyes. She smiled and hugged her knees again. “I love you, Bri.”
“Uh-hum,” came the skeptical reply. “You’re just saying that,” he said and leaned in to kiss her lips, “‘cause you do.”
She fed him a piece of croissant. “You betcha, baby,” she exclaimed, rubbing her nose against his fondly, and in a soft tone, “So very, very much.”
“That’s good to know,” Brian commented and rested his forehead against hers as he smoothed his hand up and down the side of her upraised thigh, “since the feeling is so embarrassingly mutual. Anything special you want to do today?”
“Oh, yes. Hang with you and just relax. We could watch movies in the media room, if you want.”
“With popcorn and pop?”
“Of course.”
“Then it sounds good to me.”
“Good. Now,” she began in a serious tone as she cupped his cheek, “tell me honestly: what are you feeling regarding Brickman? Think he’ll make an appearance here before we leave, or did our little traps fall flat?”
Brian shrugged uncomfortably. “Well, now that you mention it, I have been feeling a little itchy lately, like something big is about to happen.”
“And do you think that feeling has anything to do with Brickman?”
“Oh, yeah, most likely. Unless you’ve got another maniacal stalker chasing you that you never told me about,” he said gravely and pulled her closer.
***
ESSENCE surreptitiously studied Alexander Brickman from under her eyelashes. Jesus, what a creepy little man. And his brother -- her gaze went to Jonathan -- holy Mary, is he a schleprock. The elder Brickman looked at her and she smiled shyly, nervously and hurried along. She’d come to the meeting room in the hotel where Brickman, his brother, Tomás and Rafe were meeting under the auspices of needing to speak to Rafe. She hadn’t heard anything that would be helpful regarding the cartel, but she did hear the artist’s name mentioned, and had glimpsed photographs.
Rafe had told her the night before in their shared suite that the artist, someone named Caroline Singleton-Keenan, was the reason they were all there. And thanks to her little traipse through the conference room, she now knew that the woman was staying at Masco Cottage with a bodyguard and her husband who at one time had been a cop. Their photos were the ones she’d seen. According to Rafe, Brickman was evidently obsessed with the woman and had ridiculous plans to kidnap her. Essence had only met the man for the first time yesterday when they’d arrived, but she knew evil when she saw it -- felt it -- and she knew that this artist would not survive her time with Alexander Brickman. She’d decided to do her best to save her, though she knew she should keep her nose out of it.
