2 Queenie Baby - Out of Office (5 page)

"No, I worked for Razor Edge. Mark hired us to do recon work for him. I wasn't there long, but from what I could tell he threw a lot of business Razor Edge's way."

I sipped champagne and digested this new information in silence. Carlos also seemed lost in thought. I hoped he was planning to come out of his pirate closet in some fantastic manner. Maybe I should suggest he do it at a live show. Hmmm…

There was a large crowd waiting on the sidewalk as the limo pulled up to the restaurant. Andre stepped out first and turned to offer me a hand. I managed to exit the limo without providing a peep show to the paparazzi. I had my hand on Andre's sleeve as we waited for Carlos to climb out.

He emerged in full rock star mode, the crowd screaming and shouting his name.

He gave them a big, wide smile and waved. Just for good measure, he kissed the hands of several ladies as he passed.

"Who's the girl, Carlos?" a reporter yelled in English. There were more questions in Spanish.

"Her name is Diana, and she is my muse." He took my elbow and led me grandly up the stairs into the restaurant. 

I gave him a nasty look out of the corner of my eye. "You meant to say, 'She's my songwriter!' Right, Carlos?" I snapped.

He looked uncomfortable. "Alas, m'lady, my fans are not ready for that."

"I think we should let them decide for themselves," I cried, not caring who heard. "I challenge you to a 'The Rum Song' sing off!"

We were ushered into a large private room overlooking the ocean. A soft breeze ruffled the elegant floor to ceiling sheers. There were already a dozen groupies on their feet rushing toward us. Carlos went to them gladly, completely ignoring my challenge.

"Nice try," Andre said with a grin.

"Oh, it's not over yet." Carlos was going to get
served
tonight if I had anything to say about it.

"You sure are sexy when you're on the war path." He turned towards me.

I pursed my lips. "Don't start that."

"Start what?" he asked, running a finger along my forearm.

My skin tingled at his touch. "That," I said. "Don't do that!" I smacked his hand away. "I've had enough man problems to last me a lifetime. I don't need anymore right now."

Andre chuckled. "Maybe I can change your mind."

"About what?" I heard Mark say behind me.

I spun around, happy to see him despite my misgivings about his past. I gave him a hug and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

He nibbled on my lips. "Is that champagne I taste?"

I nodded. "But I desperately need a martini."

"Well, I certainly don't want you sobering up," he said with a laugh. "I need all the help I can get to get you in bed and keep you there."

I had to agree with him. Our foreplay was starting to stretch into week two. It was time to take the training wheels off this thing once and for all.

I watched Mark walk over to the bar for my drink.

Andre edged close to me. "You two haven't had sex yet?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "None of your business."

"Because it sounded like you two haven't had sex yet," he said with a grin. "I'm right, aren't I?"

I pursed my lips and watched Mark approaching with our drinks.

"This changes everything," Andre said.

I turned to him. "What are you talking about? This changes nothing. I'm with Mark. You go call your wife!" I snapped and moved forward to meet Mark halfway.

I grabbed my drink gratefully and took a swig. Mark led me to a table next to Carlos'.

"We'd better get some food in you before you start dancing on the tables."

I stared sullenly at my glass. The combination of hearing Carlos ramble on about
my
song, having Andre's comments about Mark play like a slideshow in my mind, and experiencing complete and utter sexual frustration were taking a toll on me.

We both ordered the catch of the day. As I nursed my martini and nibbled on the delicious fish, I started to perk up. Maybe all this worry was for nothing. Stop wondering and just ask him already!

"Mark," I began. "You remember when you were telling me about your not-so-adventurous job working for the security company in the Middle East?"

"Yeah," he said, stuffing a piece of fish in his mouth and not meeting my eyes. "What about it?"

Time to rip the band-aid off. "Are you a secret agent?"

Yeah, it felt as stupid saying it as it sounded.

He choked on his fish and took a drink of water. He coughed into his napkin, but said nothing. I peered at him closely.

"Where does this stuff come from?" he asked, like I was some lunatic on the loose.

Not what I wanted to hear.

"Andre said he knew you when he worked for Razor Edge Ops."

Mark froze when I said the name. A myriad of expressions from surprise to anger flitted across his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"If you ever want to see me naked again, you'll answer my question truthfully," I said, putting my hand on his. "Do you work for the CIA?"

He turned to face me, finally meeting my eyes. "I used to," he said quietly. "Until they asked me to kill my fiancée."

I stared at him in stunned silence. "Do you know how crazy that sounds?" I asked.

He gave me a look. "Not half as crazy as most of the things that you say on a daily basis."

He had a point.

"So…" I prompted.

"She's alive and well and married to an Israeli podiatrist."

I glared at him. I needed details after that bombshell.

He raked his hand through his hair. "Long story short: She was supposed to be at a big family reunion. Unfortunately, her black sheep cousin, a top ten most wanted terrorist, was supposed to be there too. Someone at headquarters got the bright idea to bomb the whole thing and make it look like a terrorist attack. Even if Kara hadn't been connected, I'd have had strong feelings against such a plan. Knowing she was in harm's way sent me over the edge." I felt a twinge of guilt as I watched him relive the painful memories.

He stared at his drink for a few seconds before continuing. "No one was bombed. However, I ended up telling her about the plan. She told Uncle Amid, who told Aunt Sara. Aunt Sara told her nephew, the terrorist. Needless to say, the department wasn't happy with me. We parted ways shortly thereafter," he added.

"How about your fiancée?" I imagined it wasn't easy to get over the fact that your husband-to-be was part of an organization that considered bombing your whole family to smithereens. Probably was a deal-breaker for her.

"She's married to an Israeli podiatrist. I'm here with you," he replied in a tone that didn't invite more discussion.

I nodded. Enough said. I'm not sure I actually felt better knowing the whole story, but I didn't feel worse.

"For what it's worth," he added, "my role in the CIA was mostly logistics and behind the scenes set-up. I wasn't an undercover agent. I didn't kill people. I was recruited because of my MBA education and background. And," he looked directly at me, "I really am a commercial real estate developer."

I met his gaze. He sounded sincere. I wanted to believe him. Maybe I should just run the whole thing by Andre…

"That how you ran afoul of Tyrell, the Miami thug? Working on the logistics of a drug deal case?

He nodded. "I was in charge of tracking how the drugs moved from one place to another. I spent months combing through shipping ledgers."

"Doesn't sound very exciting," I said to buy time.

He narrowed his eyes like he had read my mind and leaned back in his chair with a sighed.

"It wasn't. How's your dinner?"

I glanced down at my half-eaten plate. "Good," I replied. "But I could really use another martini."

"That I can do." He kissed the top of my head as he rose.

My phone rang. It was Mark's number.

I glanced around. Mark was nowhere to be seen. I decided to answer it, anyway. Might as well see what the thugs wanted, right? No need to be rude.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, this Diana?" one of the thugs asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"Bitch, you know who wants to know," yelled the thug into the phone.

"If you can't control yourself, I'm going to hang up."

"Don't you hang up on me, bitch!" he cried.

Click. I put the phone back on the table. It rang again.

"Hello?" I said pleasantly.

"Look here, you crazy bitch," the thug began.

Click. I smiled. This was fun. It rang a third time.

"Hello?" I answered.

"My colleague and I would like to discuss our current situation with you," Freddie said.

"Sure thing," I replied pleasantly.

I saw Mark approaching.

"We don' want any trouble with you or your CIA boyfriend. An' we especially don' want trouble with Mr. Carlos," I could hear Tyrell grumbling about that 'crazy-ass pirate' in the background. "We are jest lookin' for a dude who owes us money."

"I gathered as much. I hear he has a data file you want."

Mark set my drink in front of me and gave me a questioning look.

I heard, 'Bitch knows about the data file,' whispered in the background. "My colleague and I have decided we don't want the file. We want money for our inconvenience."

I thought about that. "Give me a second, guys." I put my hand over the phone.

"It's the thugs," I said to Mark.

Not for the first time today, Mark stared at me like I had lost my mind. "You're kidding."

"No, they called me from your phone."

I related what they had said.

He shook his head. "Keep them talking."

He jumped up and went over to Andre, who was standing near the door. I watched him say a few words, and then they both looked over at me. Andre grinned and pulled out his phone.

I gave him a thumbs up. Mark just shook his head.

When I got back on the phone, I heard grumbling in the background.

"What's his problem?" I asked.

"My colleague was commenting on your lack of manners at leaving us on hold for so long," Freddie replied.

"Sorry about that." I wasn't sure what else to say. Mark wasn't back. Andre was still on the phone. "So you'd like to be compensated for your troubles?"

"That would be acceptable to us," Freddie replied smoothly.

"But you've got to stop chasing and shooting at Charles and David," I said.

There was shouting and grumbling in the background. "My colleague isn't happy with those terms."

I didn't blame him. Then I had a thought.

"How about you just shoot Charles and let David go? David didn't have anything to do with the deal."

There was a pause as the thugs discussed the situation. I heard, 'Fuck that,' a couple of times.

"A hundred large an' we get on the next plane outta here. We'll get Charlie on the flip side," Freddie added.

"And David?"

"He cool long as you get him away from Charlie. Wouldn't want him getting accidentally shot or nothin'. "

I heard sirens over the phone. Mark was walking back to the table.

"I'll have to check with
my
colleague about the money." The sound of sirens was getting louder. Mark made a sign to hang up.

"I'll have to call you back." Click.

"I have them talked into a deal," I said. "A hundred thousand and they'll get on the next plane out of here. They won't mess with David as long as we can keep him away from Charles."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "Not bad negotiating," he said. "But those two idiots should be in custody in the next five minutes. Triangulation," he explained.

"Impressive," I said, adding, "didn't know real estate agents had so much pull with local police."

"It wasn't me. It was Andre."

I took a sip of my martini. "A likely story."

Mark ran his hand up my arm. I pretended not to notice, but couldn't deny the flush racing through my body. "So do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here to get you alone?"

It was nice of him to offer, but at 5:10 I didn't have a lot of romantic fantasies involving men carrying me around. Instead I pictured my feet dragging on the ground or my head bumping into things.

"I think I can still walk," I said, finishing my martini. "So what do we do about David? How do we find him and Charles now?"

Mark leaned back in his chair. "I've been thinking about that," he said, lazily running his hand up and down the top of my thigh. "And I think we just wait and let them come to us. As long as Charles thinks David is worth a payout from Marcie and Ed, he won't stay silent long. Especially wounded and with a gang of Miami gangsters after him. He's going to need funds and soon."

"Pretty good plan." I was distracted by Carlos strolling around his table of admirers.

Mark followed my eye. "I think David is looking for a way out. To feel like he did everything to be with his father. If it doesn't work out, then at least he can say he tried. Once David is safe, we'll turn everything we have on Charles over to the police."

I nodded, barely hearing a word. Carlos was pulling out his guitar and strolling over to the small stage in the corner. The lights dimmed as he plugged in his guitar and tested the mi
ke.

"Welcome my friends," he said, adding, "old and new." His voice was soft and smooth. But I thought I could hear the pirate straining to get out.

Someone at the next table shouted, "'The Rum Song!'"

I bristled. Mark put a restraining hand on my arm.

"Of course!" Carlos said brightly. "But I must have my new friend to help me. Diana, would do me the honor?" He waved me forward.

No way I was getting up there and singing a duet with this joker. I waved him off.

"Oh, but you must," he insisted. "I believe there was some mention of a
challenge
?"

So he'd heard that. I wasn't exactly in top form right now, but I could perform the song in my sleep. "I didn't bring my guitar," I said, attempting to extract myself.

Immediately another guitar was brought up to the small stage and plugged in. I was surprised Carlos was being so insistent. Maybe he thought he would put an end to this once and for all.

Fat chance.

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" I called back, standing up just a little unsteadily.

"Oh, brother," Mark murmured.

The twenty or so people in the room had finished eating and were sipping drinks as they waited for the impromptu show to begin. I picked up a very nice Gibson guitar and fiddled with the tuning.

Carlos watched me for a second. "I think we should each play in our own style. Give the audience a taste of both."

I glared at him. "It's my song. My style
is
the style of the song."

"Not to be disrespectful, m'lady," he said out of the range of the microphone, "but I have made your song a number one hit with
my
style."

I was slightly mollified by his acknowledgement of it being my song, and he did have a point.

"Okay, but ladies' first." I bumped into the mike stand with the neck of the guitar.

"You seem a bit squiffy, m'lady," he said, moving the mike out of the way.

"You just worry about yourself, Captain Carlos."

He leaned over. "I'm not in pirate-mode right now," he reminded me.

"Huh, that's too bad, because I am. All hands on deck!" I called into the mike and jumped into the first few unmistakable bars of 'The Rum Song.' 

I could tell the crowd was intrigued. They were whispering to one another, toes were tapping. Chair dancing broke out at one end of the table.

Carlos joined me on his guitar, stepping up to the mike after I finished the first verse. In melodic Spanish he sang the next verse. Slightly softer and slower.

I adjusted my guitar playing, picking a Spanish twang out to accompany him.

Our small audience started clapping.

I caught Andre's eye. He gave me a thumbs-up.

As the song crested, I jumped back on the mike, singing the final verse. Towards the end, Carlos echoed me in Spanish, calling back after each line. We came to an abrupt halt. Impromptu gigs never ended smoothly.

There was a full three seconds of silence before the room erupted in cheers. The audience had tripled in size to include most of the wait staff and patrons from the restaurant.

Carlos leaned back from the mike and cried excitedly, "Blimey, we've hit the mother lode!"

"Argh," I replied, wondering how I'd ended up on stage with a pirate.

*  *  *

I backed up a couple of Carlos' songs and then did some originals. I wondered for a moment if Carlos was going to snatch those up too. Although the evening was a huge success, I didn't feel like I had accomplished my goal of reclaiming my song. It seemed I was now sharing it with Carlos.

"We make a good team," he said happily, after we had finished.

I nodded a bit glumly.

Mark came up to the stage. "It's late. I'm about one minute away from throwing you over my shoulder."

He didn't have to tell me twice. "On my way."

I turned to Carlos. "This was fun, but it doesn't change how I feel about you taking my song."

"Aye, I didn't think it would," he agreed. "However, it's changed how
I
think about the song. We need to discuss this with Roger and Phil. What are your plans tomorrow?"

Mark shifted impatiently next to me.

"We're going to the Aguadilla Airport tomorrow to try to track down his cousin," I replied.

"Roger and Phil are flying into Aguadilla on a private plane. We will all go together!" Carlos exclaimed. "We'll catch them with their guard down. Definitely the best way to parley with those two."

Not a bad idea, I thought. A little mutiny with their meal ticket might just soften those two bilge rats up. Oh, no! I was starting to think in pirate. Not a good sign.