Greed in Paradise (Paradise Series) (14 page)

He opened his side drawer and withdrew an envelope, handing it to me.

“Does that include the bribe money to get info out of the new girlfriend? We no longer incur bribery expense; it’s billed back to the client.”

“You’re ballsy, Red.”

Brick only called me by the nickname he gave me when he wasn’t mad.

“By the way, in the future, I’m your girl for all animal cases.”

He laughed. “Here’s an update for you that you’re bleeding heart will probably like, none of the seniors were forced to move out. I hired a company to relocate them to a place they can afford.” He handed me a set of keys. “The flatbed is loaded, Henry’s driving. The guard at the island gate is expecting you. If you have a single hiccup, you call me.”

* * *

I agreed to follow Henry out to Hibiscus Island, located in the Biscayne Bay. The drive over the causeway was breathtakingly beautiful; the highway ran over the turquoise water below, passing by other small islands.

I arrived at the man-made oval-shaped island which had amazing water views and very visible security. I rolled down my window at the guard station and he politely informed me that Mr. Ricci was expecting me. He directed me straight ahead, and before driving away, I withdrew a photo of the house from the portfolio. Brick thought of everything. The gates at the end of the driveway stood open, so I pulled in. Another guard stood just inside the gates of the two-story estate. He walked up to the window, checked me over, and waved me through, directing me to park at the front door where a well-dressed gentleman waited. I walked over to him and asked where he’d like the Rolls parked. He indicated they’d take possession once it rolled off the truck. I waited patiently while the Phantom was unloaded, afraid to walk away but unsure what I would do if it fell off the back end. I laughed to myself.

The second guard stood next to me, never saying a word. I breathed a sigh when the Phantom offloaded without a hitch.

“Mr. Ricci is waiting,” the man said, motioning me forward.

He led me from the entry way. Looking around, I guessed the house to be about ten-thousand square feet, and was happy that cleaning it wasn’t my responsibility. Mr. Ricci’s mansion held an impressive collection of antiques, mixed in with modern and avant-garde artwork. Nothing about the house said “comfortable and homey.” He stepped aside, motioning me into the formal living room that boasted an expansive water view of downtown Miami. The guard stationed himself at the double doors.

Mr. Ricci looked comfortable staring out at the water in his over-sized leather chair; looking like a character out of an old gangster movie.

He stood. “Miss Westin, I presume. Lift your dress to the tops of your thighs.” He looped his finger, indicating he wanted me to do a full turn.

I hesitated—
damn Brick
—and did as he asked, shoving my skirt back down quickly. Mr. Ricci waved off the guard and he left, closing the door.

“You know, I love redheads,” he said.

I blushed and ignored his comment. “You have a beautiful house. I have the paperwork for the Phantom,” I said, holding out the portfolio.

He put his hand under my elbow and guided me to the dining table, pulling out a chair. I presented him the Mont Blanc pen. I had already taken a quick peek and wished I could keep it but would be afraid to let it out of my sight.

Mr. Ricci barely looked at the contract. Scanning each page quickly, he signed in the indicated places. Once done, his bodyguard reappeared, setting a briefcase in front of me. Snapping open the locks, he lifted the lid, revealing perfectly organized bundles of one hundred dollar bills.

Is this even legal? What the hell’s wrong with a check?
  I nodded my head, as though I knew what I was doing.

“Would you like to count it?” Mr. Ricci laughed, enjoying his own private joke.

“That won’t be necessary.” I forced myself not to fidget in my seat, laying the contract on top.

The guard snapped the case shut and set the lock.

Mr. Ricci handed me back the Mont Blanc pen. “A gift from Mr. Famosa,” I said.

“Brick certainly has good taste.” He stripped me naked with his eyes. “I’d like you to stay for lunch.”

My cheeks burned. No way, not even if I had to make a run for it; although, I suspected there would be no escape that Mr. Ricci didn’t allow. “Mr. Famosa is expecting me and you know how ill-tempered he can become when his orders are not followed.”

“We’re a lot alike in that way.” He extended his hand.

I stared at it.
No
, my brain screamed. I hated shaking hands. Hopefully, my hesitation went unnoticed. He took my hand in his and turned it over, kissing my palm.

“It was very nice meeting you, Miss Westin.”

The guard pulled back my chair. “Enjoy your Phantom.” I smiled with relief, the front door in sight. He escorted me through the house, opened the door to the Hummer, and stood watching me drive through the gates until they closed behind me. The man never said one word.

The cutting-edge W Hotel had a five-star rating for a reason. Sitting on the shores of one of the most glamorous beaches, it embraced the lively spirit of the area; international trendsetters set the decadent pace for the rich and famous in South Beach.

The hostess escorted me to Brick’s table, which was tucked in an alcove that overlooked the pool. The view of half-naked women swimming under the waterfall below had captured the attention of the four men at the table and they were clearly entertained. I spotted Brick’s brother Casio’s bald head first, and to hear Casio tell it he’s a big deal within the Miami police department. The Famosa brothers were not men to screw with; I’d heard whispers about how bad things can happen but I knew nothing first hand, thank you.

I leaned down and whispered in Brick’s ear, “This better be legal.” I handed him the briefcase.

Brick unlocked the case and pulled out the paperwork. “You know my brother. The other two are friends.” He flipped through the pages. “Everything go okay?”

That was an odd introduction. Both men, dark haired and casually attired all in black, looked like criminals with high priced accessories. They looked me over as though they were purchasing something expensive and didn’t want any flaws. “You left out a couple of details, but then don’t you always...”

The men at the table laughed.

“Check’s in the mail.” Brick’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Nice to meet you, gentlemen.” I turned to leave and bumped into Stanhope III.

Walden Stanhope, or The Third, as my brother called him. They’d become best friends in high school and still kept in touch. I had a huge crush on him when he was a senior and fantasized that he’d be the one to take my virginity with all the romance a teenage girl can dream up. But Brad would have none of his best friend “banging” his sister, so I had to wait. In reality, my first time turned out to be awkward and clumsy, better perhaps if I’d done “it” with someone with experience.

“Madison!” Stanhope wrapped me in a bear hug. He stepped back, not letting go of my hand, and spun me around. “You’re delicious.”

“You’re not bad yourself.” His black, faintly pinstriped suit fit him well, and being a shoe aficionado, the black leather loafers were a good choice.

“I just picked your brother’s pockets clean over a few games of pool before he left on a fishing trip,” he said as he steered me over to the bar. “Your name is still off limits. When I ask I get a terse ‘fine.’ He’s still looking out for you. Brad’s a good guy.”

Stanhope played with the ends of my hair. “I got married, divorced, twin boys, I hope they turn out nothing like me, I’m admittedly an asshole.” He looked behind me and smirked. “Let me introduce my associate, Mr. Creole.”

Creole also wore a black suit, his hair pulled back in a short ponytail tied with a leather strip. They both looked like well-dressed criminals. The hotel appeared full of them today, in every corner table conducting business. I ran a leisurely eye up and down and winked. His eyes held a warning. He didn’t like that Stanhope had put his arm around me, or that he continued to hold me tightly to his side.

Stanhope said, “This is sweet Madison.”

“Keep your hands off, Stanhope,” Creole growled and tried to jerk me from his grasp.

Stanhope ignored him, maneuvering me out of his reach. I hoped Creole wouldn’t hit him. I told Stanhope, “Mother will be sorry she wasn’t here, you should stop by and see her sometime. Take her some of Cuba’s finest and she’ll never stop talking about you.”

He had a deep baritone laugh. “Your mother scares me. Even as a teenager, when Brad and I would get caught doing what we were told not to, she’d call me and tell me to get my ass over to the house and take my punishment, which meant hard labor. The cool thing was that she never once ratted me out to my parents. Then she’d make us clean the garage or something. She’d check on us periodically, bringing cold drinks, and we’d put on our angry, unhappy faces. We were never entirely sure if we had her fooled into thinking that we were doing more horsing around than work.”

“Remember when she took a broom and swept you off the front porch, in one sweep? That’s what you got for teasing me.”

“She started screaming at me, ‘You made my daughter cry.’ After a couple of smacks to my backside with the bristles of the broom, I ran and didn’t come back for a couple of days.”

“Nice apology, though, when you did come back; although, I longed for a kiss. I had the biggest crush and there you were, saying the sweetest words.”

“You’re all grown up now, we should get together some time.” Stanhope pulled on a strand of my hair.

Creole pushed him away. “I don’t think so. She’s got a boyfriend.”

Stanhope laughed at him and checked his watch. “We’ve got another meeting.” He hugged me again and kissed my cheek.

“Be careful,” I whispered to the two of them.

“Where’s my kiss?” Creole asked.

“Last time I saw you, you left me in a weakened state to cry my eyes out.” I turned and walked out.

* * *

I slammed the front door, giving Fab and Didier notice that they were about to be interrupted.

“How did it go?” Fab yelled from the living room.

“Except the part where he asked me to lift my dress, looking for a gun I presume, everything went fine. Did you know that would be a request?” I asked her. I could tell by her shocked expression she hadn’t had that request yet. I stepped back and lifted my dress in demonstration.

Didier laughed. “I’ll bet you charmed him.” He handed me a box. “This came for you.”

I took the scissors he offered. “Merci for picking out my dress. I’ve never had so many appreciative stares.”

“Do me a favor and clean out your closet, it borders on a disgraceful mess.” He shook his finger. “It won’t be so hard to find something next time.”

“I know Fab very well and did she clean her closet when you asked so nicely?”

Didier sighed. “No, she didn’t. I did it myself.”

Fab jerked the scissors away and ripped the box open. She pulled out a black velvet drawstring bag and handed it to me.

I read the note aloud. “Job well done.” Untying the bag, I pulled out a sea-green leather clutch and lifted the golden-snap monogrammed closure; inside was Brick’s check. “I wouldn’t mind more of these jobs. The whole time I was in the presence of Mr. Ricci I felt the protection of Brick.”

“This means you two have kissed and made up and we can do jobs together again,” Fab said.

“Which one of you picked out the bra?” I asked.

They looked at one another and back at me. Fab said, “You’ll just have to wonder, won’t you?”

I snuggled into the warm body next to mine, stretching like a cat. I moaned, opening my eyes, feeling teeth running along my neck. I stiffened and opened my mouth to scream when a hand clamped down. “Don’t scream or I’ll have to shoot Fab.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed, the second he took his hand away. “You cannot come into my bedroom uninvited, in case I wasn’t clear the last time.” I jerked the sheet up under my neck.

“I came by to tell you how damn sexy you looked yesterday,” Creole growled. “One kiss and I’ll leave.”

I laughed softly. “You abuse the phrase, ‘one kiss.’ You forget, I agreed to that once already.”

“Did you not enjoy it?” He pulled me roughly to him, nibbling my lower lip.

“I don’t remember,” I lied. “Now leave.”

“I didn’t like Stanhope’s hands all over you.” He twisted his fingers in my hair, pulling, making me wince.

“That’s a total exaggeration. Were you jealous?” I’d never admit it to him but I liked the idea, even though I shouldn’t have.

“You’re playing with fire.” He bit my neck hard enough to leave a mark.

“I’m not the one sneaking into your bed. You know Mother doesn’t approve?”

“We’re adults and can decide for ourselves, and I vote yes. Since when do you do what you’re told?” He bit down hard again, eliciting another moan that escaped despite my best effort.

“I can behave, although I don’t enjoy it very much.”

“Let’s put that to a test, shall we?” He rolled over, straddling my body. “I’m tired of waiting, so tell me yes or I will use every unfair advantage to coerce you into saying, moaning, or screaming yes.” He pulled the sheet away. “You’re wearing my shirt. It looks better on you than me. You know it’s my favorite shirt now.”

After the barbeque, I came up to my bedroom to find a dress-shirt and T-shirt neatly folded on my bed with a sticky bow. I knew without a note they belonged to Creole; his scent still lingered on the fabric. He didn’t like the idea that the shirt I wore the last time he sneaked in might have belonged to another man. I had no intention of telling him that I had worn his shirts every night since then.

“Don’t you have to go to work?”

He looked at my bedside clock. “I’ve got a couple of hours.”

I groaned inside. I’d never be able to hold out for hours. “Get off me. If you can behave yourself, you can catch a quick nap.”