Turning down her driveway to the lake house, the gravel popped, mixing with the leaves beneath the tires. Pulling next to Martinez’ car, she noticed he wasn’t in it. As she exited the vehicle, the sun was beginning to set over the lake, dragging its warmth into the winter night.
Making her way to the stairs, Martinez came out to meet her. His handsome face warmed her but she couldn’t muster a smile. “Hola, bella! Where have you been? I think the wine is chilled by now.”
Running to him, she fell into his chest and wrapped her arms snug around his neck. Her nose felt like it was packed with gauze but she could faintly smell the leather from his jacket. Safety. He reciprocated by holding her tight and enjoying the scent of her hair before kissing the top of her head.
“Liz, you’re shaking.” He tried loosening his grip but she held tighter. “Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on,” he asked as he gently pushed her away to look into her eyes. Propping her chin up with his finger, he asked again, “Babe, what is it?”
Her bottom lip quivered and a tear rolled down her cheek. As she wiped it away, she took a deep breath. “Can we just go inside, please?”
Running up the stairs to the porch, the screen door slammed behind her. She grabbed the bottle of wine from the wicker coffee table, entered the security code to the alarm, and unlocked the deadbolt to the front door. Not bothering to take off her coat, she marched straight for the kitchen to get the bottle opener. Martinez followed, locking up behind her.
Taking off his jacket, he carefully folded it in half and placed it on the counter. “Liz, what is going on?”
The cork popped from the bottle and she poured a healthy glass, taking a large gulp. She set the glass on the counter and looked out the window. “I saw him today.”
Confused, he asked, “Saw who?”
She took off her coat and walked to the dining area, draping it on the back of a chair. Then she went back to the kitchen and grabbed her glass topping it off before taking a giant swig again.
Growing impatient, he placed his hand on her arm. “Liz, who did you see?”
Snapping at him, she said, “Steve!” She walked into the living room, sat on the sofa, and set her glass on the table. Cupping her face in her hands she took a deep breath, fearing another breakdown.
Standing over her, anger filled his face. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“I left the office and went to my car. He was standing right across the street glaring up at me - like he was waiting for me.”
“Ese hijo de puta madre!” Storming into the kitchen he swiped his coat from the counter, quickly turning back to the dining room. “Lo mataré!”
Jumping up from the sofa, Elizabeth ran to him and grabbed his arm, “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to do what I should’ve done this afternoon and beat that shit-eating grin right off that cabróns face.”
Her voice was stern. “No! No, you are not!”
As he looked down at her, her eyes pleaded with him to reconsider. “Maldita sea! I was just at his house today. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that!” He turned around, jacket still in hand, and grabbed onto the back of the chair. Turning back to her, he said, “Then we go straight to the station and file a report.”
She grabbed his jacket from his hand and laid it on the table. Pulling out the chair she ordered him to sit down. She went to the kitchen for the bottle of wine and another glass, setting it in front of them. Retrieving her glass from the living room, she pulled up a chair and sat in silence for a moment while she poured him a glass. “Look, far be it for me to be the voice of reason, but you know that isn’t going to do any good.”
Easing up a bit, he took a drink. “At least get it on paper, Liz.”
Staring into her glass, she twirled the liquid, leaving a full-bodied film around it. Propping her feet up on the chair she confessed, “I was terrified when I saw him. I could barely drive home, especially once it occurred to me, he likely did send the flowers. And that means he knows my address, which makes me - I don’t even want to think about it.” Wiping the stress from her face she choked back her tears. “But what I would really like to know is, how in the hell is he getting around town still having an ankle monitor?”
Leaning back in his seat, he said, “That’s a good question. And someone is going to answer it.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, he saw he had a text from Stovall. “He sent the flowers. No mistake about it. Not that I can entirely prove it. He’s got a new girlfriend doing his dirty work. According to his PO, she’s relatively clean, just a few misdemeanors here and there. I’ll have him check Robinson’s GPS history tomorrow.”
Disgusted, he laid his phone face down on the table. “I already know what the data is going to show. He’s getting it off somehow without triggering the alarm. He has to be.” Standing up, he took hold of the arms of her chair and leaned over her, kissing her forehead, and trying to relieve her obvious tension. “You should think about getting a dog. A really big, dangerous dog.” Flirtatiously he added, “Or a roommate, maybe? You know, temporarily.”
Looking up into his sensitive brown eyes, she tilted her head back and rubbed her neck with her free hand. Grinning, she cupped her wine glass again and asked, “What kind of dog we talking about?”
Pulling back, he sat in the chair. “Damn, shot down!”
Hooking her hair around her ear, she succumbed to reality. “As much as I love dogs, I’m not sure I want that responsibility. As far as a roommate, I would make - I did make - a terrible one, trust me. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still here after everything.”
He looked at her inquisitively. “Now why would you say something like that, Liz?”
“Look at us! We’re supposed to be celebrating today and instead we’re contemplating stronger security measures for my house. As if the alarm system Uncle Bill installed isn’t enough.” She propped her elbow on the arm of the chair, cradling her head in her hand.
“You know what, you’re right.” As he stood, he grabbed her glass and set it on the table. Taking her hands, he pulled her from her seated position.
Lacking energy to play along, she remained limp. “Really, Martinez?”
Playfully, he didn’t let it bother him. “Oh, calling me by my last name. That hurts, Liz. Come on, come with me.” He continued to drag her to the living room, around the coffee table, and stopped in front of her vinyl collection. Making himself comfortable on the corner of the sofa, he commanded, “Play something for me. Then tell me our reason for celebration. Forget about the outside world for the rest of the evening.”
Crouching down to her knees, her spine buckled and she sighed. Looking up at him, she felt the warmth from his gaze and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Blushing, she smiled back and flipped through the covers with her fingers, resting on At Last! the debut album of Etta James, 1960. Totally fitting, she thought to herself. She carefully pulled the vinyl from its jacket, placed it on the automatic turntable, and flipped the unit on. Once the bluesy melody began to ring through the room, she felt even more at ease. Rising from her kneeled position, she went to retrieve the wine.
Accepting his glass, Martinez thanked her as she sat next to him on the sofa.
Curling her feet under her bum, she graciously said, “Thank you.”
His sharp jaw lines and the small patch of black stubble under his bottom lip made his smile that much sweeter. “That’s what I’m here for. So, again, what exactly are we celebrating today?” The tone in his voice was genuine and it was refreshing.
Elizabeth proceeded to tell him everything that happened in Marilyn’s office that morning from Peggy’s blatant disregard for her professional opinion to the petulant argument that ensued. As she spoke, the stress from her encounter with Steve seemed to wash away and the more excited she grew about her plans.
He gazed at her with pride. Shaking his head, he said, “Wow, Liz, that Peggy is a real piece of work. You did the right thing, holding your own. And it sounds like Marilyn agrees.” He raised his glass to her. “Salud, mi amor!”
Tilting her head shyly, she tinged the rim of her glass to his. “Gracias.”
The turntable flipped the record to side two and I Just Wanna Make Love to You began to play. Martinez set his glass on the coffee table in front of them and reached over to take Elizabeth’s glass from her hand while saying, “I think that’s my cue.”
Releasing her grip from the glass, she caved to his seduction, giving him full control.
Danielle stood in front of the bathroom mirror, outlining her full lips before applying a deep red lipstick in preparation of wooing desperate men to gamble more money than they should. The entire reason Richard had her working the night shift. And it paid off. Once they had a few drinks in them, all they needed was a beautiful woman to make them feel 10-foot-tall and bullet-proof. And she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. Men have used her plenty in years past. In her mind, the chickens had come home to roost.
She fluffed her bangs over her emerald eyes and pulled the rest of her red hair over her covered shoulder, showing off the black sequins on her blouse. A single black strap drew across her other shoulder revealing the tattoo of a string of small swirling shamrocks. Rubbing her lips together, she gave herself one more look, smiling back at herself with confidence. Turning to walk out, she was startled.
“Jesus, Richard!”
Leaning his hip against the desk, his eyes scanned from her red Prada heels, up her tight, black, silky leggings, to her sleek crimson hair. “Robinson will be here soon. You should get downstairs.”
She cocked her head and pursed her lips. “That’s exactly where I’m heading.”
As she walked by him, he grabbed her arm, the colic in the front of his hair creating the perfect wave and falling to his brow as he looked into her eyes. Her heels brought her to his height. Leaning over he touched her ear with his nose. “I’m still very angry with you for not coming to me. But rest assured, Smalls and I will handle this.”
Facing him, she grabbed the collar of his freshly starched white shirt, straightening it. Her red-tipped fingers trickled down the buttons before resting her hand on his chest. Wanting desperately to believe him, she knew better. “Good luck with that.”
His eyes followed her curvy figure as she exited the suite. Pouring himself a bourbon from the bar, he swirled it around the glass and shot it to the back of his throat, savoring the slight burn as the fumes left his nostrils.
Smalls’ voice came through the intercom, “Boss, they’ve arrived.”
He walked behind the desk, sat down, and pressed the intercom button. “Your men are in place?”
Smalls stood outside the back entrance with two other large men as the white BMW parked itself several feet in front of the door. Robinson emerged from the back seat of the vehicle as two bulky black males exited the front. “Yes sir,” Smalls replied over his blue-tooth.
Richard reached under the desk and unclipped the harness of his gun hanging from the bottom of the desk, giving it easy access. “Good, please escort Mr. Robinson upstairs.”
“You got it, Boss.” Smalls opened the door and motioned for Robinson to enter.
Grabbing the lapel of his suit jacket, Steve nodded at the driver of the vehicle, who began to follow him.
Stepping in front of the hefty man, Smalls’ stern expression failed to waver. Their eyes met in a standoff but Smalls failed to flinch. “Just him,” he calmly demanded.
Failing to back off or turn from Smalls, the driver kept his stance.
The corner of his thin lips curling, Steve intervened and said, “It’s a’ight, Big D. His house, his rules.”
Big D stepped back and rested against the vehicle, his black clothing casting a huge shadow against the white of the car. Crossing his arms against his large chest, he tilted his head back, looking down his nose at Smalls.
Smalls slowly backed away and took the door, nodding at Jon Young, his second in command. A tall and equally fit, bi-racial man. Nodding back at Smalls as he kept his eyes on Big D, he said, “I got you.”
Leading Steve up the stairwell, Smalls remained silent. As Smalls turned down to him to make sure he was following close behind, Steve couldn’t help but take his chance. “You know, Smalls, I could use a man like you. Shit, with your history, ex-cop - damn man - that would be an advantage in my business. I could totally make it worth your while.”
Reaching the landing, Smalls waved his keycard in front of the door to the suite and pushed it open. As the two men stared each other down, he remained quiet, but his face spoke volumes.
Shaking his head and smacking his lips, Steve said, “Pfft, your loss.” Strutting into the suite he took a look around and Smalls shut the door behind them, standing guard in front of it.
Richard stood to greet him. “Mr. Robinson, good of you to come. Please, have a seat,” he said motioning to the chair in front of his desk.
Flinging his grey jacket to show the firearm attached to his side, Robinson sat comfortably in the plush chair, continuing to scan the establishment. “Nice crib you got here.”
Sitting in his executive leather seat, Richard replied, “I do alright for myself.” He propped his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaned back, and crossed his fingers in front of his chest. “Let us get right down to business, shall we?” Not waiting for a response, he continued, “Within recent months, you made a deal with my manager to conduct some type of business at the cost of my establishment’s reputation. I asked you here today because I regret to inform you, that was not her decision to make, and I am afraid you are going to need to take your business elsewhere.” Grabbing the stacks of money to his side, Richard reached over, placing it in front of Robinson and said, “I don’t need, nor do I want your money.”
Smugly grinning, Robinson replied, “If by ‘her’ you mean, Jenny, that’s right. And I don’t really care whose decision it was to make. It was made, plain and simple.” His head shook slightly back and forth. “Once you’re in, you’re in, my man. There’s no buyer’s remorse.”
The impatience was seething from Richard. “Her name is Danielle -”
Steve’s lips buckled at his mistake. “Damn, that’s right. My bad.” Slowly rising from his seated position, he walked over to the bar. Smalls kept a steady eye on him and took a step forward. Richard slightly put up his hand as a red light.
Grabbing a glass, Robinson reached for the ice and turned to Richard, asking, “You mind?”
In keeping his annoyance to himself, Richard kindly replied, “Please, help yourself. I’m afraid Danielle was not at liberty to make those transactions. I’m fully aware the two of you have a history, and frankly, I have no interest in learning any more about it - she’s moved on. I am here to tell you, today, it’s time for you to move on as well and get as far away from my casino as possible.”
Taking a sip from his glass, Steve licked his lips and slowly walked over to the large window looking over the casino. “You see that’s where you and I disagree.” Scanning the bar and card tables below he spotted Danielle. She nervously looked up to the two-way mirror as if she felt his glare. Pointing at her while he held his drink, he said, “That little piece right there actually did you a solid, my friend.” Making his way to the chair he sat down, set his glass on the desk, and pushed the stack of money back to Richard. “This is ten percent but my people would like to increase the load. We come to an agreement today, I can increase your cut to fifteen percent.”
Resting his forearms on the desk in front of him, Richard’s patience was wearing thin. “That ‘little piece’, Mr. Robinson, is my fiancé, and I will not have you referring to her as anything but. Understood? And I don’t think you’re quite hearing what I am saying. My fiancé and my casino are off limits to you. As a matter of fact, I could have my friend Smalls place a call into SPD right now and have you shipped back to Mansfield, where you obviously belong.” His amber eyes began to rage. “Don’t mistake my kindness and hospitality for weakness. I have people too. They reach from the Great Lakes to as far as the East Coast. And I assure you, they hold more power than you and yours can possibly imagine.”
Arrogantly, Steve brushed a hand through his curly black hair and said, “You go ahead and make that call, Richard. I’ll be gone before you can spell ‘pig’. And remember, your fiancé invited me in by accepting that first payment. It’s kinda like a vampire; once you invite him in, he has full reign. So, you can either accept the terms provided, or he just takes what he wants, when he wants.” Grabbing his glass, he swallowed the remaining liquor and slammed the glass down, grunting at the rush of fire in his throat. He stood to leave. “Maybe your boys in blue do make it here in time, send me back to Mansfield, of course, you’ll also be sending your little girlfriend up the river. Have fun explaining to them how we got this far.”
Knowing he was right, Richard failed to show defeat in his expression. “Smalls, show Mr. Robinson out, please.”
Reaching the door, Steve turned around. “I have an associate making another drop soon. You have forty-eight hours. Then the offer drops to five percent.”