by AJ Adams
When he was done, Arturo closed his laptop and turned to me. “Ready to talk to me?”
“Maybe.” It came out sulky because I was edgy.
We stared at each other like cats about to square up for a spat.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you. It wasn’t till you said –” Arturo closed his eyes and scowled. “Look, I wish I’d said something, done it differently.”
“You trusted a bent copper’s word over mine.” It rankled. It really did.
“I didn’t want to!”
“But you did!”
I wanted to throw myself into Arturo’s arms, bury my head in his neck and curl myself around him. I wanted to relive that feeling of feeling loved and safe. But that was sloppy thinking. I couldn’t trust him. Arturo had turned against me at the first opportunity, and it was a bloody miracle that I had come through alive. Whatever he was up to, trusting him would be building my house on sand. It was just too dangerous.
I leaned away from him. “Do whatever you want, Arturo. I know I can’t stop you. Put me in a whorehouse or shoot me. I really don’t care anymore.”
Then I got up, moved to one of the empty seats and went to sleep.
Chapter Eleven: Arturo
I really thought that the necklace would be enough to bring Solitaire round. A genuine blue sapphire, cut to a heart shape, set in white gold and surrounded by diamonds would have gladdened the heart of any of the women I’ve ever been with. Christ, at fifty thousand bucks, it would have bought some of them for life! But Solitaire barely glanced at it and then threw it away when I wasn’t looking.
Thank Christ it’s policy to check the trash before we let anyone take it away. Very few people think about it, but trash can be a serious security leak. Just last month we raked through the skip outside the home of a Gulf lieutenant at midnight, and by start of business, we’d hacked into his bank account and emptied it. One man’s trash, right?
It’s amazing what goes on paper during a meeting, and we’d been doing some serious talking, so Rafa went through everything and rescued the necklace. He didn’t say a word, either; by that time, everyone knew I’d fucked up big time. Kyle hadn’t talked, he never does, but from the way Solitaire sassed me and the way I took it, they all knew I’d done something to deserve it.
Solitaire let me have it in a big way, and it wasn’t easy to take. It sounds spoilt, but I’m used to being top dog. Kyle chews me out sometimes, and my sisters are always bitching at me, but Solitaire’s vicious sarcasm was in a different league. If she’d been anyone else, I’d have whacked her.
While half of me wanted to bitch-slap her until she shut up, the other half wanted to fold her into my arms and hug her tight. Solitaire was hurting, and she was hurting bad. I could see it in her eyes. Kyle was right: Solitaire didn’t give a shit anymore. She was beyond fear, beyond reason. Her anger burned like a laser, and there was nothing anyone could say or do to cool her down.
I didn’t think she was suicidal, though. The message I got from those arctic blue eyes was that Solitaire was more likely to slash my throat than her wrists. On the other hand, I’d fucked up so badly that I wasn’t taking any chances. While she was still out, I locked my gun in my suitcase. There was a nasty moment later on when I remembered she was in the bathroom with my shaving gear, but that turned out to be a false alarm.
When the necklace and my apology didn’t help matters, I thought visiting her family might. Her tears at that cemetery flushed out some of the anger, but like that fucker Danjuma had said, Solitaire didn’t forgive or forget. Now that I had a better handle on her, I realised that she probably wouldn’t have been so stinking mad at him if he’d only beaten her. What really got her was that he believed she’d ratted him out.
I decided that the only way to get through to Solitaire was to let her cool down and then talk to her rationally. If she understood why I’d done it, she might forgive me. It wasn’t easy, though. I’ve got a big bed in the back of my jet, and while she sat in the seat next to me, a metre of ice surrounding her, I was tempted to pick her up, rip her clothes off and fuck her till she cried for mercy.
The only thing that held me back was that it was too likely to go wrong. A caveman act is fine if you’re close because then it’s passion, but as we weren’t exactly friends, it would just be rape. And no matter what the romance books tell you, it’s the one thing a woman won’t forgive you for. No, if I wanted Solitaire, I had to convince her to forgive me.
I wanted her badly enough to be patient, so I let her sleep undisturbed. But while she lay snoozing comfortably, I was wracked by fantasies of domination. By the time we landed in Nuevo Laredo, I had a serious case of blue balls.
My second cousin Lucho was in charge of security that day. “Arturo!” he hugged me. “Good to see you home. I’ve brought everyone’s ride.”
As the others buzzed off, Lucho took Solitaire and me home. I’ve got a helipad by the house, but you can’t land a jet on it; you need an airport for that. As planes need to give the tower an ETA, and it needs only one man with a rocket launcher to get lucky, we load up on security for trips. This time Lucho had one plane and a chopper escorting us once we were over land, and he’d put together a crew of four cars and six bikes to meet us. Solitaire blinked when she saw the line of people but said nothing. She was silent all the way, not angry – just switched off.
It set Kyle’s warning buzzing through my head again, so when we arrived, I took her by the hand and held on to her. Now I was home, I had to settle Solitaire. If she continued to chew me out in front of everyone, I’d either have to kill someone to prove myself or lock her up. The second option had its appeal, but I knew that trying to force Solitaire into playing nice was going to go nowhere. I wanted my sirena back, and it was going to take some persuasive talking. What was more, we had to get ourselves settled fast because my house functions as my home as well as my place of business.
I have fifty acres, surrounded by a high tech security system and patrols. The house stands in the middle on an acre of its own, surrounded by a high wall, also bristling with defence systems. The front is offices and meetings rooms, and the back is living room, games room and the bedroom suites. I’ve got a big family, and I don’t go out much, so I built big. I’ve got twelve bedrooms, and we’re still bursting at the seams every Christmas.
I don’t know why, but I took Solitaire to my office. It was probably habit because it’s where I usually head when I come home. Even if I’m tired, I like to get a handle on what’s been going on while I’ve been away.
Solitaire sat down in a seat by the window, and then Maria and Gozo came in with a bunch of paperwork. They manage the office, so they brought me up to speed on what I’d missed. When I looked up fifteen minutes later, Solitaire had vanished. I panicked, and Kyle’s words came rushing back to haunt me.
“She needs professional care, Arturo.”
“Bautista will see her as soon as we’re back.”
“I meant a shrink.”
“She seems fine to me.”
“She’s strong but not indestructible.”
“Listen, Kyle. What the fuck do you think will happen if she starts talking?”
He knew as well as I did that it would be a death sentence. If a real-life Tony Soprano had gone to a therapist, the cops would have bugged the place in a heartbeat, and his own capos would have taken him out before he said something that would put them all in the slammer. In our world you keep it together or get blown away.
“If she’s suicidal, not getting her help could kill her.”
“Just tell me how to keep her from topping herself.”
“I don’t fucking know!”
“You must have had attempted suicides at Gitmo.”
Kyle sighed. “You can’t kill yourself when you’re chained to the wall.”
“Not what I had in mind. Well, except as part of some light entertainment.” I watched Solitaire as she slept. “Never mind. Bautista can check her out, and if he thinks sh
e needs help too, I’ll fix something, somehow.”
“Like kidnap a psychiatrist?”
“That’s an idea.”
I’d been half-joking about kidnapping a shrink, but now Solitaire had disappeared and I was scared to death. Maria and Gozo hadn’t noticed her slipping away, either, so I told them to alert security while I went to look for her. I was running around in a panic when I spotted her in the rose garden. She was sitting in a corner, half hidden under a piñata, and she looked desolate.
I told Maria to tell everyone to take off home, and then I went to sit down next to Solitaire. “Sirena.” I put an arm around her and she sat up straight, trying to shrug me away. I held on tightly. “No, listen to me.”
“Or what?” The queen bitch was back, but I wasn’t fooled because I’d seen the look in her eyes when she thought she was alone. Solitaire was dying inside. She had nobody, and she was stuck with me. I’m not a poster boy for Mr Sensitive, but I felt for her. If I’d been her, I would have been very worried.
I can be a right bastard, but I didn’t even think to goad her. “Please don’t worry, Solitaire, I’ll be good to you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Come on,” I said softly, reasonably, “did you really expect me to take you at your word?”
“Over a bent copper? Yes!”
“Come on, you know better than that.”
She was trembling with anger. “I proved myself!”
“Did you hell! It could have been a set-up! I’m supposed to trust you after three days?”
And then we were yelling at each other.
“So I’m a stinking snitch just because some wanker says so?”
“I didn’t know! And I couldn’t take a chance!”
“You evil fuck! So you thought you’d torture me? Did it give you a laugh, making me think I was going to die?”
“I didn’t tell you because I was fucking freaked!”
“Oh, don’t give me that!”
“I was frightened you’d done it and that I’d have to kill you!”
“Like you’d give a shit!”
“I couldn’t fucking bear it, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”
Solitaire stopped yelling. She just stared at me. “I’m what?”
“You heard me.” I put my arms around her again, and this time she didn’t try to push me away. “That night we went dancing, something happened. We don’t know each other, but I know one thing: we’ve got something.”
I rambled on like a soap opera Romeo, talking about her eyes, how the touch of her skin against mine set me shivering, and as I babbled, Solitaire softened.
I thought she’d forgiven me, but when I finally ground to a halt, she was still keeping her eye on the ball. “So you want me, but you don’t trust me.”
“I can’t do whatever I want, sirena. I have responsibilities to my family and my people. Imagine if you had been an undercover cop gunning for Escamilla.”
“Oh come on!”
“It’s been done,” I told her. “Imagine the damage you could have done to me after being here for a week or a month. I’m careful, but I’m not immune to prosecution. I had to make sure you were clean.”
Solitaire was silent, and then she sighed. “I guess so,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry the way it went down. I really am. I’m a fucking idiot.”
“Yeah, you’re a complete and utter tit.”
The words were pure ice queen, but she’d stopped being mad. I’d gotten through to her. “Will you forgive me?”
“Depends. What happens the next time some tosser says I’m a grass?”
“Sweetheart, when Kyle’s given you the green light, you’re in the clear.”
“So basically I could email every detail of what went down at Escamilla’s to the Met and nobody’d believe I did it?”
“Jesus, Solitaire, why do you say such things?”
“I just want to be clear on where I stand.”
“If anyone accuses you, I’d see it as an insult.”
Solitaire half-grinned. “Well, having seen you in a temper, I guess nobody will.”
“They’d better not!”
I pulled her tight against me, and we sat under the roses, with me thanking God that Solitaire had forgiven me. I was thinking of taking her to bed, but Solitaire had another surprise in store for me.
“So where do we go from here?” she asked. “I’m to be your personal ho and hostess, right?”
It was exactly what I had in mind, yet for some reason the way she said it bugged me. “Solitaire, stop sniping, okay?”
“I’m not sniping,” she said tiredly. “It’s just that I’ve been thinking, Arturo. I really thought I was going to die, and it’s made a few things clear to me.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve nothing and nobody.”
This is what Kyle had warned me about. “You’ve got me.”
“Do I?” Solitaire asked. “How many girls have you had, Arturo? Dozens? Hundreds?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I don’t want to be one of those girls who gets to hang with the boss until he’s bored or she loses her looks,” Solitaire said quietly. “And I don’t want to be handed from man to man.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
Solitaire was laughing, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. “How many women have you had? And what happened to them after?”
Instantly my mind went to Gina. I pushed the thought away. “So I’ve had a lot of hookers, and I don’t keep track of what happens to them. But I’ve had regular women, too. There’s a banker in the US, a model in Peru, and another is the star of one of our hottest soap operas. I see them from time to time, and they can call on me when they’re in trouble.”
“Very impressive,” Solitaire said dryly.
“You did ask!”
“So I did,” Solitaire admitted. “Look, I don’t have a career, and that’s my own fault, but I don’t want to be a whore. So when you’re done with me, where do I go?”
“Didn’t you hear what I said earlier?” I was losing my temper again. Not good. I took a breath and spoke calmly. “Solitaire, do you have any idea how hard it is for me to find someone? That banker I just mentioned was beautiful and intelligent, but she was lousy in bed. The actress was beautiful, fantastic in the sack and shit hot when it came to publicity but dumb as a box of rocks about everything else. The model was funny and bright, but she was nervy and anorexic, and it was like going to bed with a coat hanger. You’re the first woman I’ve met who’s got it all: looks, sex and attitude.”
Solitaire was staring at me open mouthed. “Really?”
“Really. So stop thinking that I see you as just another ho.”
When Solitaire sat in silence, I thought that was it, and we could move on from there. I was just wondering if I should show her the blue suite first or take her straight to the dungeon when she stirred and sighed.
“It’s not enough,” Solitaire said quietly. “You talk about loyalty, Arturo, but if you want me, that commitment has to go both ways.”
Do you know, I was shocked? I’ve had women talk about love and a monthly allowance – and most have taken those as being one and the same thing – but none of them had ever talked about my being loyal to them. I just sat there, staring at her. “You mean you want an exclusive?”
“Stop thinking with your little head, okay?” Solitaire sighed. “I know you can do whatever you want, and there’s nobody who would stop you, but you don’t want that, do you?”
It actually sounded pretty good to me, but I’m not stupid, so I gave her the answer she wanted to hear. “No.”
“I could run your house and go to bed with you, but if it’s just an arrangement, it would be an empty thing. If you want me, all of me, then we have to work this differently. We’d need to trust each other. That means no going hysterical if I go out without telling you, no accusations of any kind, no bullying
and no other women – in other words, it means trust, loyalty and respect.”
This was new territory, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted it.
“And if you say yes, it doesn’t guarantee anything,” Solitaire mused. “I mean, people don’t always get along.”
It sounded like a business proposition to me and I answered without even thinking, “So you’re asking me to invest in something that possibly has no future?”
Solitaire was laughing. “Yeah, what’s wrong with that? Aren’t you a risk-taker?”
“Actually, I’m not. I’m alive because I minimise my risks.”
“I have first-hand experience of that,” Solitaire said dryly, “but it strikes me that you want me for a reason, and that’s because you’re bored with what you’ve had so far.”
She hit that nail right on the head. Six months of permanently available gorgeous women who did whatever my evil heart desired had become boring even before I’d bedded Solitaire. To tell you the truth, that surprised the hell out of me.
The first girl lasted a month, the second a fortnight, and after that it had been a new face every ten days. I put it down to the girls being pros, which meant their heart was purely on the money. Fucking is always fun, but when you’ve had girlfriends as well as hookers, it’s the girlfriends you remember most. There’s something about actually liking someone that makes sex magical. Call me a pussy if you like, but it’s true.
I knew already that other women had palled for me, so giving Solitaire an exclusive wasn’t a problem, but I wasn’t sure if I could deal with an equal partner. I’m a control freak, you see. It’s not pretty, but I know what I am.
“You can have any number of women, Arturo, and for some men that’s enough, but if you really want to live, you’re going to have to take risks.”
I was still thinking it over. “You mean like a relationship?”
Solitaire was laughing. “Yes! For goodness sake, Arturo! You look as shocked as a virgin at a fuckfest! Do you think because you’re a cartel boss that you can’t have a normal relationship?”
Frankly, that was exactly what I was thinking. Part of the reason I’d never had what Solitaire called a normal relationship was that I’d always kept work and sex strictly separate. Sure, the regular girls I’d dated knew about my business, but what you don’t see, you can forget about. Also, I planned our time together very, very carefully.
