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That morning, the main dining room was alive with the sound of early risers once again. The area resembled something of a study hall. Prin and Nica occupied one end of the table to quietly discuss upcoming client orders. Bear sat at the head of the table reviewing interior design sketches for the new constructions coming to Bear Arms. The work would be done by Tee’s company eShaw Designs.
Tee was still asleep, as were Lu and the baby. Reina had woken just after five a.m. and been fed and changed by her father. Lu had already prepared bottles for his use. After her feeding, Reina was ready for another doze.
Pope occupied the opposite end of the table where he studied the file Gib had shared. Rutger, Slayte and Mercuri chatted among themselves over a breakfast of sausage links, eggs, biscuits and fruit. Sama Holland knew her guests well. She had given instructions to have the cook staff, specially hired for the holidays, to have a full breakfast out no later than 6am.
“Son of a bitch.”
Pope’s words carried robustly in the mostly quiet space.
Slayte grinned. “Somethin’ we said?” he asked.
“Something someone else said,” Pope drummed his fingers along one of the open folders he studied.
“Care to share?” Rutger asked.
“These are the statements Gib brought over from the team Zoo marched through here,” Pope said. “A few of these references...” he left the table and began to pace the area behind his chair.
“Yeah?” Rutger prompted.
Pope was now drumming his fingers along his temple. “I didn’t pick up on it at first and then one of the fucks gave up a name.”
“Which was?” Slayte was next to prompt his friend.
Pope was still quite clearly preoccupied...and enraged. “Where the hell did he find these crazy mutts?”
“Names would be nice, babe,” Bear called to her husband. “Can’t you see your boys are all eager to be angry alongside you?”
His wife’s words penetrating his angry haze, Pope studied the faces studying his. He returned to the table, resting his arms over the back of the chair he’d bolted from. “A few of Zoo’s idiots made references...to Mag’s Guys.”
Slayte, Rutger and Mercuri all sat straighter, their expressions suddenly murderous.
Prin and Bear exchanged anxious looks.
“Who are they?” Bear asked.
“They were just like us,” Rutger said. “Magnus Barnaby and his crew all grew up together- property of the GAN. If Mag wasn’t as psychotic as Zubin, they could’ve been partners. You could think of those two as the top Animals.”
Slayte muttered something indecipherable but evidently foul and left the table.
“Mag and his crew were known for loaning out their services to the highest bidders inside or outside the GAN,” Rutger went on. “They were an even bigger draw once over half the soldiers in the network joined forces with Mercuri.”
Mercuri chimed in then. “For a while, crews like Mag’s kept the GAN relevant with their side jobs and such for one warlord or another.”
“Why are they being mentioned in those files?” Prin asked.
Everyone looked to Pope, who flashed a troubled look in Slayte’s direction before he went to take the dining chair next to Prin’s. He took one of her hands in both of his, regarding it for a time before responding. “Zubin farmed out a job to Mag’s Guys while he was building his army. See um...he had a plan in mind-just wasn’t sure where he wanted it to unfold. They were supposed to get him that information.”
Expression expectant, Prin gave Pope an encouraging nod. “O...kay,” she drawled.
“Honey...” a muscle flexed potently along Pope’s jaw. “Zubin sent these guys to San Francisco for that info.”
“Son of a bitch...” Slayte’s words were next to echo in the hushed space.
Prin noted her husband’s reaction, but gave no sign that she’d come to whatever conclusion he had.
Bear was just as confused. “Excuse me for being slow, my love, but what exactly are you getting at-”
Prin’s sharp intake of breath, signaled the answer clicking into place. Her free hand clamped down over Pope’s. “San Francisco,” she said.
Pope nodded slowly, drew up Prin’s hand and put a kiss to the back of it. “I’m sorry, Honey.”
“Pope? What the hell-?”
“Aviva, Bear.” Prin said, before Pope could answer. “He’s saying they killed Aviva.”
Bear’s hands went to her mouth, while Prin sat shaking and stunned in her chair. Slayte went to his wife and Pope stood to give him the seat next to her.
“Are you sure?” Mercuri asked Pope.
“Aviva’s name isn’t mentioned in the statements,” Pope said, “but if you know what to listen for, it’s pretty clear.”
“What can we do with this?” Rutger asked.
“We can do a fuck lot with it,” Pope returned. “But the question isn’t what to do, but how?”
“How.” Bear said.
“We’ve got no idea where they are.” Slayte spoke up as he sat rocking Prin. “It’s been over a year since all this went down. If we could find them all together, great. Going after them separately...”
“We risk havin’ ‘em scatter and that’d be a hellafied mess,” Rutger said.
“We need to think of something fast,” Pope gathered the pages that spilled across the table. “I’m going to make some calls,” he said.
Prin brushed a kiss across Slayte’s jaw. “I’m going up,” she told him.
“I’ll join you,” Bear said.
Rutger, Slayte and Mercuri left the room talking strategy with Pope.
Nica remained seated at the table, silent and unmoving for a long while.
***
Geneva, Switzerland~
“Give me four columns on that photo, Luis. I want images, not words selling the headline. Pictures are worth a thousand, remember?” Myrna Terry watched her Managing Editor Luis Wolenz nod curtly before he left to do her bidding.
Satisfied that one fire had been successfully fought so far, Myrna treated herself to a long exhale and then decided to follow that up with a fresh cup of coffee. It would only be her second of the day, so she was far from overdoing it yet. Before she could head in the direction of her office beverage cart, her assistant Shanine McCloy peeked into the room.
“Jackson Breen from The Times is still on the phone for you, Myrna.”
Myrna cursed hotly below her breath. She’d forgotten all about asking the news platform’s editor to hold while she spoke to Luis.
“Hey Jack, no comment,” she greeted.
“Nice try, Terry,” Jackson Breen laughed. “You’ve been dodging me way too long on this. You gotta know folks will expect you to chime in here-you’re the one who broke the story, after all.”
“Tell me, Jack, is it normal for a publisher to be interviewed for a story her paper puts out?”
“Cut the crap, Myrna. What do you know?”
“Didn’t we put all the dirt we had on Boothe Marshall in that story-a story that’s pretty old news by now.”
Boothe Marshall was a long time member of the GAN. The man had fallen out of favor when his years of involvement in human trafficking and prostitution came to light. It was scoop-of-the-century material, but the scoop wasn’t so much in the material. With everything that had been unveiled about the GAN over the last couple of years, no one was overly shocked.
The scoop was more related to who had leaked the info and whether the leak was indicative of larger fish and more damning leaks to be found.
Myrna had been in the news business for over eight years. She’d earned her place among the industry’s best, many times over. Few doubted her ability to scoop them given the caliber of her journalistic skill. They simply wanted her to share the wealth.
“I’m not asking you to reveal your source, just tell me if they were inside the GAN.”
“Jack...” Myrna’s smile came through in her tone, “I’ve got bills to pay, same as you. I’d be a fool to tell you where I’m finding my golden egg-laying goose.”
“If one’s willing to talk, surely there are more,” Jackson reasoned. “I only want to know if it’s a pathway worth investigating. You may be living the European high-life, but you can’t pay off everyone willing to talk.”
Myrna’s throaty laughter came through more energetically then. “I didn’t have to pay off anyone, Jack.”
“I see,” the editor sounded as if he proved a suspicion. “So you just reached out to one of those contacts that get you all the juiciest stories first, huh?”
Myrna tensed, but her tone reflected none of it. “I’m a busy woman, Jack. Good luck with your investigation. Prick,” she added once the connection was severed. She buzzed her assistant. “Shanine, hold my calls for thirty minutes.”
Decided, she pushed back from her desk, determined to have that second cup of her preferred French Roast. She was halfway to preparing a cup heavily laced with cream and sugar, when the phone rang.
Myrna whirled, bent on blasting Shanine for the interruption, when she saw that it was her mobile ringing. A look at the screen, brought a warm smile to her very pretty face. Perching on the desk, she answered the call. “Hey, Sweetness.”
Nica wasn’t feeling nearly as cheery on her end. “We’ve got a problem,” she said.
***
“It’s an acquired taste.”
“What are they called again?”
“Pimento cheese swirls,” Sama laughed at Nica’s uncertain expression. An instant later, her eyes were playfully narrowed with a hint of wickedness.
“You know, Dear, my expertise is in the cooking, not the eating,” Sama shared. “But here’s the eating expert coming at us now.”
Nica turned, her expression brightening beyond its current state of polite pleasantness when she saw Gib.
Sama went to hug her nephew, drawing him way down so she could kiss his cheek.
“Thanks for making me look bad,” he said so only she could hear.
Sama responded in kind, “You couldn’t look bad if you tried, handsome,” then louder for Nica’s benefit, she said, “help this lady fix a proper plate and then y’all come on to the table,” her playful wickedness resurfaced. “I think you’ll approve of the seating arrangements.”
Nica winced when Gib turned to her as his aunt strolled off. “I should apologize,” she said.
“But you won’t,” he said, his gaze roaming the length of her in the chic jumpsuit accentuating her curves. “I haven’t been here long enough for you to do anything that requires an apology.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Nica sent another worried look in the direction Sama had taken. “Your family’s trying to set us up.”
Gib laughed quietly. “I’ll let you in on a secret,” he stroked his jaw while angling his head slightly toward her. “My family is always trying to set me up. They’d set me up with the Christmas tree if I showed an interest. Trust me, if they’re trying to set me up with you, it’s because I’ve shown a definite interest.”
Nica held her plate tighter when her hands shook. “I thought we were trying to be friends?”
“I thought I told you I couldn’t promise I’d hold to that.” He looked down at her barely filled plate. “I should follow my aunt’s orders and get you some food. Let’s see,” he took up the handle of a big fork alongside a casserole dish and dipped. “These are smothered greens,” he said and provided Nica with a generous serving.
“What kind of greens?” she asked.
“Collards. You’ve um...you’ve heard of those?”
“Course I have!” she laughed. “Just because I don’t know how to start a golf cart, doesn’t mean I don’t know collards.”
Gib nodded while silently acknowledging how often she seemed to be from an entirely different world than he was.
Nica observed the greens skeptically. “Don’t think I’ve ever had collards like these,” she admitted.
“I’m sure you haven’t. My aunt’s got a one of a kind recipe,” Gib boasted.
Nica studied the bits of onion, bellpepper, chunks of yam and other indeterminate morsels swirled in the thick bourbon-colored sauce dousing the ribbons of greens. “Smells wonderful,” she sighed upon inhaling deeply.
“Wait’ll you taste it,” Gib raised a hand in caution. “I wouldn’t just yet or you won’t get around to anything else.” With that said, he moved on to another heavenly smelling dish and dipped for himself and Nica.
They were among the last to finish making their way around the long table. There were no complaints. It was difficult for several diners to select from the mountain of mouthwatering dishes on display from the three rectangular tables along the perimeter of the dining room. The space was a hive of conversation, laughter and eating. Once their plates were filled, Nica and Gib made their way through the sea of guests. Gib urged Nica to take the lead, but he kept a guiding hand at the small of her back to aid in steering.
As they neared one end of the dining table, Sama waved them over to where they’d been placed side by side.
“Your aunt’s not subtle, is she?” Nica mused once they were seated.
Gib laughed. “It’s about as subtle as she knows how to be, especially when it comes to my social life.”
“Is there room for your mom to do anything?”
“It’s a job my mom loves to share,” unease filtered his expression then. “Hope I’m not givin’ you the creeps with all this?”
“No!” she had to laugh. “I think it’s cute!”
“Cute, huh?” he cringed. “That’s not a word I tend to pair with it.”
“You seem to handle it pretty well.”
“If you knew the women in my family, you’d know they leave me with little choice, but I know a lot of it comes from them worrying over my job so...I don’t mind it too much.”
“Do those worries have merit?” Nica asked.
“Not so much now that I’m settled into it. Leeds doesn’t really have a crime rate to speak of.” Gib forked up a pairing of greens and London Broil, chewed thoughtfully. “There were times at the beginning, though,” he said.
Nica’s fork hovered over her food, a dreamy look coming to her face. “Must be nice to have all that from your family,” she said.
“It is,” his expression sobered. “It’s all too easy to forget ‘til you meet someone who doesn’t have it,” he regarded her thoughtfully. “When did you lose them?” he asked softly.
Nica’s fingers tensed around her fork. “I was in my teens,” she said.
Gib nodded, wincing a bit when he observed her dinner plate. “You should eat. I can’t wait to hear you rave over my suggestions.”
Nica tried the greens, tentatively at first and then took a second forkful that appeared a bit more filling. Gib laughed while watching her indulge.
From there, eating took over as the order of things. Gib had heaped several scrumptious items onto Nica’s plate but her helpings in no way outshined his. They ate with gusto, only pausing to laugh over a comment or to briefly participate in nearby chatter.
While Nica was busy speaking with Pope and Bear to her right, Sama got her nephew’s attention.
“Glad you showed?” She posed the query slyly.
“Come on, Aunty,” Gib took up another forkful of food and spoke around it. “You know I always show up when you’re cooking.”
“You’re guaranteed to show for the food, not always for the company,” Sama noted.
“And now that I have, does that mean you guys are gonna let up?”
“That depends,” Sama refocused on her plate.
“On?” Gib asked.
“On whether you show proper initiative wooing that vision sitting next to you.”
“That vision lives in California, remember?”
“But you’re Sheriff Gibson Taylor, remember? You won’t let a little thing like the West Coast stop you, will you?”
Aunt and nephew laughed energetically and continued to dine.
~~~
“So much space here, it’s unreal.”
Gib rested his hip along the porch railing and considered Nica’s words.
After the main course, the diners had gone their separate ways to enjoy dessert and coffee or brandy. Dessert offerings included Strawberry Torte and Devil’s Food Souffle. Gib and Nica took their selections out to the front porch.
“Isn’t there a ton of space in California?” Gib asked.
Nica raised her shoulder in a slow shrug. The move caused the strap of her black satin suit to slip and Gib couldn’t resist letting his eyes linger. His intrigue heightened over the fact that the December night chill didn’t seem to be an issue for her.
“It’s hard to notice space with all the people around,” her eyes fixed on the clear night sky that seemed to encapsulate them. “A person can really hear themself think out here-maybe make some good decisions for a change.”
Gib held back from questioning her vague, haunting words. “I know a place that could make what you see here look like Cali,” he boasted instead.
“Really?” Nica laughed while responding.
“It’s something you could see for yourself if you come with me to Leeds.”
“Leeds,” she recognized the name of his town. “Well I-I’d love to, Gib.”
“Day after tomorrow?”
“I, yes-yes, but,” again her shoulder lifted, “I’ve got the Holland Corp. Christmas party in Richmond,” she recalled.
It was Gib shrugging that time. “Leeds isn’t far from Richmond. We could make a day of it-you can get dressed at my place.”
She blinked, eyes flaring, then narrowing as though she were searching his face for some indication that he was teasing her. Either the guy had one hell of a poker face or he was serious.
“Gib I um,” she toiled to hone in on a reply. “Won’t my doing that raise questions about your personal life?” was all she could come up with.
“Maybe,” he said. “Can’t say I care much about it, though.”
“But...are you sure? You may be asking for more trouble than it’s worth. You’ll be swamped with questions once I go back West,” she cautioned and couldn’t miss the sharpening of his excellent features. “Gib?”
“How ‘bout you let me worry about what I’ll have to deal with when you’re gone?”
She fixed him with a soft smile. “Okay,” nodding then, her expression took a turn toward fresh curiosity. “Will you...come with me to the party, then?” she asked.
“Well you don’t think I’m gonna set myself up for all this trouble and not enjoy all there is, do you?”
Nica laughed, but clipped the reaction when she realized he was still more serious than amused.
“So it’s settled?” he probed. “You’ll stay with me?” he winced, “get dressed with me?” another wince. “Get dressed at my place?” he paused a beat before continuing. “I promise to be on my best behavior.”
Nica felt her lips tug into a new smile and the urge to tease set in. “On your best behavior, but you won’t hold to it?” she tried, recalling one of their earlier conversations.
Gib maintained his serious demeanor. “No Nica,” he said. “No. I’ll definitely keep a promise like that. You’re safe with me. I need you to know that.”
She nodded in an obedient fashion as if he had literally asked for her trust. “I know that, Gib.”
“Because I’d never want you to think I’d ever press any sort of advantage,” he said this while steadily, patiently closing the scant distance between them.
Nica couldn’t help but notice and again she nodded obediently. Her expression was expectant with anticipation and the hope that he would indeed press his obvious and considerable advantage. The possibility caused her lips to part as her eyes roamed every inch of his dark and sinfully seductive face. She was already reaching for him when his hand curved her hip to draw him near. She was taking the lapel of the casual midnight blue sport jacket he wore with a black shirt and trousers, while Gib propped her chin to his fist, positioning her mouth to be taken by his.
He did so smoothly, his tongue taking possession with a deep, drugging thrust that drew a moan from her even before it finished its first wondrous revolution inside her mouth. Nica reciprocated, meeting his heat with equal fire and not caring what he read in her eagerness.
It had been too long. Hell...it had been...never. The men she’d known had been nothing like the one who held her now-crushing her mouth with intensity and delicious command. God...but the man could kiss. His body against hers made her feel beautifully feminine, cherished and wanted-so wanted. It was all she could do to keep her clutch on his jacket lapels instead of yanking the garment from his massive frame.
Thankfully, Gib was able to locate and tug the reins on the erotic storm rising between them. They were panting by the time the kiss ended. Gib put his forehead to Nica’s bare shoulder while her bruised mouth rested at the strong pulse beating along the side of his neck.
“What were you saying about keeping promises, Sheriff?” she asked, smiling when she heard his quiet laughter hum against her skin.