Personal Demon
Page 36

“Yeah.”
Jaz took a drink of his beer. I struggled against the urge to let it drop, and tell Benicio I couldn’t get anything more. I reminded myself why I was here and felt a prickle of unease that I needed the reminder.
“Is that what it’s been about?” I pressed. “These dustups? About the gang owing the Cabal for its protection?”
 
“Some of it. Normally, like I said, the Cabal just lets us know we’re covered, maybe raps our knuckles if we call too much attention to ourselves. But the last big job we pulled?” He shook his head. “They went all Sopranos on our heads.”
“What happened?”
He hesitated, as if he shouldn’t go on, but the urge to talk won out. “It was the next afternoon. Sonny and I collected our share, and we were heading back to our place, goofing off, buzzed by the windfall. Sure, we had our guard down but, shit, it was the middle of the day, and South Beach isn’t exactly downtown Miami. But on this back road, we get jumped by four guys. Two in front, two behind, cutting us off. A magician’s powers are nearly useless in a fight. And, I gotta admit, I’m not much of a brawler. Sonny neither. Just not our thing. So we see these four guys surrounding us and we didn’t put up any resistance. They must have been disappointed, ’cause one smacks me into a wall. When Sonny jumps in to help me, he gets a pistol in the temple.”
“Shit.”
“And they say we’re the thugs. You should have seen these guys. Wearing golf shirts and slacks like they’re off for a day on the course. Only time they swing a club is to bash someone’s head in. Anyway, Sonny and I, we’re down for the count, barely conscious and I’m looking at these guys in their nice shirts and slacks and dress shoes, probably ten years older than me, and I’m not getting it, you know. I’m still thinking this is just a mugging, or maybe a case of mistaken identity.
“Then the leader starts yammering on about the gang, and how we’re overstaying our welcome, getting too big for our britches—whatever clichés he could come up with. It takes me a while, ’cause I’m still out of it, but finally it clicks: shit, these guys are from the Cortez Cabal.”
“Did they say so?”
He nodded. “They went on about how we were pissing off Mr. Cortez, and we needed to remember our place or he’d show it to us. Then they took our cut and left us there.”
“They robbed you?”
“Can you believe it? Shit, they probably pull in that much a week. I figure they were just being jerks, but Guy says they took the money to say that everything we earn, we owe to them. He says that sounds like Benicio.”
The message, yes. But the delivery? No.
I’d heard of other Cabals pulling stunts like this. The Cortezes were no less ruthless, but such thuggery wasn’t Benicio’s usual style. Maybe he thought that was the only language the gang would understand. But from what Benicio said about Guy, he knew he wasn’t a dumb brute. To maintain a level of respect, Benicio would approach him in a more civilized way. This sounded more like rogue elements in the Cabal.
I considered raising the possibility, but my position was too precarious to start defending Benicio Cortez.
Brokering peace was a job best left to the professionals. For now, I’d gotten a little more information and could push duty aside, relax and enjoy lunch with Jaz.
 
HOPE: REBOUND
 
 
As we were leaving, Jaz grabbed my hand and ducked into a side hall. At the end was a locked door. A flick of a credit card and we were inside an intimate private lounge.
Only two security lights lit the room and we had to pause just beyond the door. After a minute, I could make out a few tables and a small bar.
Still holding my hand, Jaz led me into a darkened nook beside the bar. Then, without a word, he pulled me to him in a kiss. I could feel his heart hammering. From the thrill of the break-in, I presumed, but when he pulled back, there was trepidation in his eyes, lifting only when I leaned in for another kiss.
“Whew,” he breathed.
“Not so sure of your welcome?”
“I wanted to make sure last night was about being in a public place, not about me.”
“It definitely wasn’t you.”
Another kiss, starting slow. My head spun again as that delicious aura of chaos swirled from him. Soon we were on the floor, my legs wrapped around his hips, his hands in my hair, kissing me hard enough to bruise my lips, but I didn’t care.
 
We writhed against each other, his hands on my rear, then my breasts, but making no move to slide under my clothes, rough gropes mingled with tender caresses, making my head spin all the more. Frustrated lust coursed through me, the kind I hadn’t felt since I was a teenager, making out with a guy in his backseat, waiting for him to take the next step.
“Sure you’re not leaving?” he whispered, voice ragged.
“You’re teasing me, aren’t you? Payback time.”
An almost sheepish look. “Nah.”
“Oh, no?” I slid my hand down his shirt and rubbed his crotch. A soft moan as he shifted to make it easier.
“I wouldn’t blame you if it was payback. Not a nice thing for me to do.”
“I survived.” He opened one eye. “But, yeah, I was pretty revved up. Ran outside after I got your message, hoping I could catch up with you before you left.”
“Can I make it up to you?”
He chuckled. “Pretty sure you could.”
“How?”
The chuckle turned to a laugh, then a groan as I slid my fingers under his waistband. “Better not leave it too open-ended for me.”
“It is open-ended. Anything you want.”
He entwined his fingers in my hair. “If I was a typical guy, I suppose I’d do this…” He tugged my hair, pulling me down his chest, then stopped. “Is that what you had in mind?”
“It would be…if you were a typical guy.”
A laugh loud enough that I glanced at the door.
“You’re right. No one’s ever mistaken me for a typical guy. Meaning, if you make that offer, I may ask for something a little atypical.”
“Go ahead.”
His gaze searched mine, as if considering how I might react. A quick grin, then he put his hands on my back, flipped us over, laid me on the ground and backed away.