Robert sat back in his chair as the private jet took off down the Hobby Airport runway. He glanced at Farrah, who was stretched out in her reclined seat with her eyes closed and her body covered by a Burberry blanket. Robert couldn’t help but smile as he thought back on last night’s activities that caused Farrah’s current state and need for a nap.
“You just had to wear that outfit, didn’t you?” Robert asked, glaring down at Farrah as he pulled out her chair, allowing his gaze to sweep the room. He could see the envy in the eyes of every man in the place.
Farrah removed her jacket and took her seat. “This is an Alexander McQueen original,” she said, gesturing to the outfit. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that it’s a one-piece halter pant-suit thing that fits you like a second skin, showing off that fabulous body of yours.” Robert took the seat directly next to hers. “Not to mention there’s no back, and the front is open down damn near to your navel. A very cute navel, I might add. I just might spend most of the night fighting off the guys.”
Farrah laughed. “Good thing I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.” She gave his arm a quick pat. “I got your back, just like you’ve always had mine.”
A moment of silence ensued before he said, “You look breathtakingly beautiful tonight.” Robert ran the back of his hand slowly down the side of her face. “I love it when you wear your hair down.”
“I know,” she said barely above a whisper before gifting him with a slow sexy smile.
Robert’s eyes dropped to her mouth and like a magnet, he felt himself being pulled forward. His lips grazed the corner of her mouth. Their eyes met and for the first time, Robert saw emotions she failed to hide and was suddenly given an inkling of encouragement. In that moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the room. Before Robert could act on his raging need, a young blonde approached their table.
“Welcome to Believe.” The petite ivory-skinned woman began removing the contents of a silver tray and placing them on the table next to several small containers that held limes, lemons, olives and salt. She placed a bucket of ice, two small bottles of orange and cranberry juices, glasses and two pint-size alcohol bottles in the center of the table—tequila and vodka. “Enjoy.”
“What’s all this?” Farrah asked with one raised eyebrow.
“Believe is a private club. Members only, and this bottle service setup is standard.”
Her gaze swept over the items that lay before them. “But what if I want something else?”
Robert picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her palm. “Sweetheart, you can have anything you like.”
“Well, in that case.” Farrah poured them both a shot of tequila and raised her glass. “Bottoms up.”
After another round of drinks and listening to Farrah break down the club’s contemporary style and unique seating throughout the place, Robert finally had Farrah in his arms when the DJ played a slow song. He didn’t even try to fight his body’s response to her closeness. Robert wanted her to know what she did to him. He would give anything to take her home and bury himself deep inside her; however, he couldn’t quite do that. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he spent the next few painful hours making sure Farrah relaxed, had fun, and knew she had his undivided attention.
“We have an early flight,” Robert reminded Farrah. “In about four hours, so we should call it a night. Besides, I think you’ve had more than enough.”
“Do you now?” Farrah said, the corners of her mouth rising slightly.
“Damn, you’re beautiful,” he said.
“You’re pretty beautiful yourself,” she answered, her smile widening.
Robert took Farrah by the hand and led her out of the club and to his waiting car. Determined to prove that she could trust him with her heart, Robert saw Farrah to her door and gave her a tame kiss on the lips. He bid her good-night and started backing away from her.
“You want to come in for a nightcap...or something?” Farrah asked, leaning against her doorjamb.
Robert had to flex every muscle he had in order to stop himself from charging forward. “It’s late, and I don’t think you really want that.”
Farrah straightened her stance and placed her right hand on her hip. “You don’t think I know my own mind?” she challenged.
Robert closed the space between them and took her into his arms. He stared into her eyes for several moments before devouring her mouth with a kiss that left no doubt about how much he wanted her. He released her mouth so they could both take a breath. They were breathing hard as he leaned his forehead against hers. “I have no doubt that you know your own mind. What I need is for you to know your heart. The way I know mine because the next time I take you to bed, I won’t be leaving it...ever!” Robert kissed Farrah on the cheek, turned and walked away, a Herculean effort whose ache even a cold shower couldn’t assuage.
The landing gear hitting the runway at New Orleans’s Louis Armstrong Airport brought Robert back to the present. Robert reached over and shook Farrah awake. “We’re here, sleepyhead,” Robert said, offering her a cup of coffee with her favorite vanilla creamer and holding out two pain relievers.
Farrah sighed and released a soft moan before slowly opening her eyes. She gave him a relieved smile as she accepted his offerings. “Bless you.” Farrah tossed back the pills and took a few sips of coffee to wash them down.
“How’s your head?” Robert asked, trying not to smile but failing miserably.
“Don’t gloat. It’s not a good look.”
Farrah finished her coffee before getting to her feet. “Give me ten minutes to freshen up and we can go.”
“Take all the time you need. Butch Johnson isn’t going anywhere,” he called after Farrah as he watched her walk toward the bedrooms in the rear of the plane. “Down, boy,” Robert whispered to himself.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Robert, Farrah and two members of their team exited two black SUVs in front of a strip club off Bourbon Street. The name of the club was Dream’s; only the sign outside was missing the letters e and m.
“This is the place?” Farrah asked, directing her question to no one in particular.
“Yes, ma’am, this is it,” said one of the agents from the security detail they’d brought to ensure Butch Johnson didn’t take off. “He’s inside...in the back office.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“You stay put,” Robert added.
“Seriously?” Farrah murmured as they entered the empty space, taking notice of the dilapidated furnishings. They walked past a small stage and bar before entering a back room, where they found a man with a medium build, dark complexion and short brown hair sitting at a small wood table. The windowless room was dimly lit and smelled of stale cigarettes and alcohol. A small desk was situated in one corner of the room with a shabby, half-closed sleeper sofa in the other.
The man sat with his hands clasped in front of him, bouncing his right leg under the table. Butch Johnson looked uncomfortable surrounded by five people all wearing the standard Blake & Montgomery uniform with guns on their hips. Robert stood with his feet apart and arms folded, a stance that most found intimidating but Farrah thought was a sexy turn-on.
Farrah took the seat across from Butch. “Guys, can you give us the room, please?” she asked without taking her eyes off the man who she believed held the key to unlocking their mystery. Farrah waited until the room was cleared before she made the introductions. “Mr. Johnson, my name is Farrah Blake, and this menacing-looking gentleman behind me is Robert Gold.”
“Will someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” he demanded. “What do you people want from me?”
“Mr. Johnson...may I call you Butch?” Farrah asked.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Good. And I’m Farrah.” Farrah crossed her legs and sat back in her chair. “Butch, are you trying to tell me that you have no idea why we’re here?”
“Umm...no, not really,” he said, his eyes darting from Farrah to Robert.
Robert tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.
“I guess you could be looking for information about Al...I mean, Alexia Gray.” Butch leaned forward and shrugged his shoulders—bravado on full display.
“And you’re right. You see, Alexia was hired to steal a lot of information from our company and plant false evidence. I want to know who hired her and why.”
“I don’t know anything—”
Farrah held up her hand to stop his denial. “Before you say anything else, let me tell you what we already know.” Farrah uncrossed her legs and sat forward with her arms resting on the table. “Alexia was asked to plant a specific set of forged documents in our system. What I need to know is who hired her and why?”
“Look, I swear—”
“Don’t!” Farrah waggled a finger in his direction. “We tracked the money. It flowed through several shell companies and dummy accounts. One of those companies was this lovely establishment of yours. In fact, this place received over two million dollars. You really should’ve considered putting some of that money in the décor. That would’ve made it more believable.”
Robert smirked.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know anything about Alexia’s business,” he said, running a shaking hand through his hair.
“Let me tell you what I think,” Farrah said, shifting her gaze from the table to his dark brown eyes. “You either know who paid for her services or you can get us close to them. I also think you can give us the forger. Your colorful past would suggest you’d know such a person. Now, you can either tell me,” she said, pointing to herself. “Or I can leave and you can talk to Robert. And trust me when I say he won’t ask nearly as nicely as I have.”
Butch’s mouth remained still. Farrah sighed and stood. “Oh, well, I tried. Robert, maybe you can talk some sense into him.” Farrah turned to leave as Robert took a step forward. “Don’t make a mess.”
“Wait!” Butch released a deep sigh, dropped his shoulders and sat back in his chair. “Ruby Lee.”
“Ruby Lee?” Robert asked, frowning down at Butch.
“Ruby Lee...she set everything up.”
“How did she find you?” Farrah asked. “Somehow you’re listed in the yellow pages under criminals for hire?”
Robert smirked as he gave his head a slow shake.
“No, like you said, I have a colorful history. People know who to come to when they want to get things done. You all found your way down here, didn’t ya?” Butch asked, shrugging.
Farrah returned to her chair. “How can we find this Ruby Lee?”
“I have a cell phone number,” he offered, pulling out his phone where he began scrolling through his contacts. “But I don’t know if it’s still good. It was probably a burner phone.”
“How were the payments made?” Robert inquired.
“Cash, except for the initial payment. That was done by a wire transfer.”
Robert and Farrah shared a knowing glance, but it was Robert who asked, “Do you still have the banking information from where it was sent?”
Butch sighed again. “Yeah.”
Farrah glanced at Robert and grinned. Once they had that number, they could trace it back to where the money came from, and hopefully to the person making the transfer. Another piece of the puzzle would fall into place, and they’d be that much closer to making sure the damage done by Alexia’s deception had been kept to a minimum.