Return to Poughkeepsie (14 page)

Eve had refused. She had things to do. Fortunately, one of them was not currently going to her job at Silver Force Industries. They’d generously offered her a leave of absence when she’d explained her father’s sudden illness. But she did spend time checking on him. Well, actually she checked her updates from the security she’d hired. If Mary Ellen’s people hadn’t put two and two together yet, she wasn’t going to help by leading them to her father’s door.

She looked at her reflection dispassionately. The dress was a designer number—probably cost more than the expensive drapes. She fastened her high heel’s buckle, also diamond, before double-checking the knife in her garter belt. Carrying a gun to this shitfest wasn’t a smart move.

Earlier that day Mary Ellen had called the chosen ladies into the ballroom for a meeting. Each girl sat as Mary Ellen smiled benevolently. “Ladies. My sweet treasures. I have your first outing planned, and I wanted to give you some pointers!” She leaned forward and patted the closest woman’s hand.

Eve folded her arms and waited. All this woman wanted to do was play games. There’d been no talk of Beckett, Poughkeepsie, nothing. It was fashion and playtime. There were now ten girls who “worked” for Mary Ellen. Five were old timers with plenty of experience.

“Tonight I need all you new recruits to watch how my girls work a room. They’re part geisha, part Mary Kay lady. Tonya is a particular one to watch, January. Promise you’ll do me that little favor?” She leaned forward and smiled.

Eve nodded once to acknowledge she’d heard Mary Ellen but didn’t commit to anything.

“I have some business to discuss with the gentlemen attending tonight’s gathering, and having gorgeous women around makes the boys more amenable. Please don’t actually gratify any of them until Tonya gives you an all clear. We need sexual tension. Men don’t understand that the person who willingly puts their testicles in her mouth owns them, not the other way around.” She shrugged and clapped at her own observation. “In your rooms are your Cinderella outfits. You may dress and wait for your stylist to appear. We have three hours to become divine. Off you go!”

The stylist hadn’t spent long with Eve—gave her the jewelry she was wearing and added a few thin braids to her hair before leaving. So Eve now sat down to contemplate the conversation she’d had with Blake in the Poughkeepsie woods a few days earlier.

“Did John find anything?” She’d leaned against the large oak next to one of Blake’s wood shelters made from sticks and leaves.

“A few people reported seeing a man in camouflage on foot, headed in the direction of the school a few days before Emme was approached. She noticed a scar under his eye when she talked to him.” Blake jammed his hands in his pockets.

“So he’d been lying in wait for the perfect moment. Fucker.” Eve closed her eyes and tried to make sense of her swirling emotions. “I’ll get you security. Someone will be near all of you at all times.”

“And John will grill the hell out of anyone you hire. Will they pass his inspection?” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I’ll find people who do.” She pushed away from the tree. Hanging with the pastel princess was turning out to be huge waste of time.
This
was where she was needed.

“We’ve got it right now. But Livia and I were both really freaked out.” He came to stand next to her. “Your hair is…different. Everything okay?”

She turned to face him. “Everything is far from okay. Your family was targeted. A man I fully intend on killing talked to my niece. Alone. I wish Be—” She bit her tongue.

“You don’t know if him being here would make it worse or better.” Blake touched her shoulder gently.

“He’s still causing us trouble five years later. Loving him is a life sentence.” She patted his hand awkwardly.

“I gotta believe loving my brother is the right thing to do. I’ve got my family safe. You worry about living through whatever it is you’re doing.”

Eve began stepping backward as he did the same. “I’m in a dragon’s lair, cousin. And I’m going burn it to the ground so no one else gets hurt.”

She’d spun on the heel of her boot then, as Blake gave her a final wave. She looked down now at the frou-frou shoes Mary Ellen had chosen for her. Ridiculous, and impossible to work in.

Just then one of the bodyguards knocked and in the same motion opened her door. He was so stoic. She knew now when he’d hit on her at the audition he’d been acting a part. She almost felt bad that she’d scraped all the skin off his shin.

He rubbed his nose with his hand before issuing Mary Ellen’s latest decree: “Miss January, I’m gonna have to frisk you. I’m sorry.”

She stepped up to him and spread her arms and legs. He patted her down very clinically and found the knife on her thigh. His hands stilled.

They made eye contact, and Eve said nothing. She wasn’t going to apologize for being
lightly
armed. He nodded and waved her past him.

She met the other women in the lobby. Turned out they all had matching dresses—like billionaire bridesmaids. Mary Ellen arrived in a white dress tailored to show not one inch more of her skin than her conservative suits did. Eve glanced at her own cleavage, which was barely contained, and the slit on her right leg was almost to her hipbone. Mary Ellen nodded appreciatively.

“And this, ladies, is why no one ever turns down an invitation to meet with me. You look stunning.” She flounced ahead, holding her hand out like a princess for her bodyguard.

They all followed her out, and each girl had an SUV with a driver. Their caravan left the mansion like a parade. By the time they’d reached the city, Eve had to acknowledge that Mary Ellen was insane but possibly a genius. She’d been to many tense meetings when she worked for Beckett. A parade of gorgeous women in low-cut dresses ready to please the participants would do a lot to turn the tide in your favor.

One at a time, the ladies left the cars and paraded into a fancy building with a doorman. No backroom meetings for Mary Ellen. When it was Eve’s turn, she exited and made sure to put a little vamp in her step. She spotted four snipers within shooting distance. There were surely more hidden from view.

She took her driver’s offered arm and walked through the revolving doors. He walked her into a huge event space and brought her to stand behind the center table. Each of Mary Ellen’s girls stood like pillars: equidistant apart in a perfect circle, and the drivers stepped behind them.

The men seated at the tables in the room were either pointedly gawking or pointedly ignoring the show in front of them. Mary Ellen smiled like Mother Superior before addressing the men.

“Gentlemen, I asked you here this evening as a courtesy, and because I’d appreciate your input so very much. I’d like to let you know my plans. I’m interested in learning about what’s happening in Poughkeepsie. And of course you can make your own decisions, but in a related matter, I’d be very pleased if you stopped doing business with Sevan Harmon immediately. Consider this a heads up, because if I have my way, he’ll soon be out of business altogether.”

Eve worked not to show her surprise. Mary Ellen had just broken every rule of a meeting like this. You never stated your ultimate purpose. Some of the men rolled their eyes. Others stared at her slack-jawed. Still others looked bored.

Mary Ellen smiled widely.

“Mary.” Eve traced the voice to a man she was pretty sure was a mob boss from New Jersey. “Are you having some sort of spasm? What the hell are you talking about?”

“No, sir. And please, my name is Mary Ellen, address me as such. I’m just interested in your thoughts on what’s happening in Poughkeepsie these days.” She smiled again.

Eve had to remember not to act too interested. She was arm candy at best.

A charmingly handsome man spoke. “Sweetheart, we appreciate the heads up.” He put air quotes around the words. “But none of us is looking for business advice from you.” The other men laughed and agreed.

Mary Ellen put a finger to her lips and smiled around it. “Dan is it? Dan, you have dealings with Mr. Harmon, do you not?” She had to speak loudly to be heard.

“Discussing specifics in this company is ill advised,” Dan shot back. “Did you not find Daddy’s How to Run the Business handbook?” That comment earned him a healthy round of laughter. “Mary Ellen, I know Rodolfo has had one hell of a stroke, but does he have any idea what you’re up to? It’s hard to take you seriously when I still remember you as the only one without a date to the Prom. Where the hell is Primo?”

Mary Ellen lifted one hand and motioned to the circle. Each of the ladies took the cue and stepped forward. Eve was closest to Dan, so she stepped up and leaned down, giving him a 3D view of her cleavage.

“My father is just fine and well on the way to recovery already. My brother is involved with other business this evening. But did I mention that I brought gifts? Boys, these ladies are highly trained in the art of pleasuring a man. They’ve spent years perfecting their sexual skills.” Mary Ellen clapped twice.

Eve looked to Tonya and watched as she slid into her mark’s lap. Eve did the same.

Dan made a pleased sound. “Sexual skills? Did you get a degree? A BA in hand jobs?”

Eve smiled. “I’ll be happy to let you discover my specialty.” She licked her lips and straightened his tie.

Mary Ellen clapped again, and Eve matched Tonya’s graceful escape. She disentangled herself from Dan’s searching hands and stood in front of her driver again.

“Now, before we get on with the fun part of your evening, I’ll need your cooperation. I’m going to be doing some organizing in Poughkeepsie—just a small parcel of land in the big scheme of things. And quite the power vacuum these days. Does anyone object?”

Eve closed her eyes briefly. Finally she might learn something.

Dan spoke up again. “That’s Taylor’s. I wouldn’t fuck with it.”

“Yes. Beckett Taylor. He’s fairly infamous, am I correct?” Mary Ellen leaned forward on her elbows.

The men kept shifting in their seats, sliding glances toward the girls.

Another man cleared his throat before speaking. “Taylor’s dead.”

Eve’s heart beat faster.

“Really?” Mary Ellen purred, her eyes wide. “What else can you gentlemen tell me?”

“Heard he had a brothel out in Arkansas. That shit legal there? He always had a way with pussy,” a different slimebag mused.

“No, sir,” offered another. “Taylor’s gone straight. Has a huge weed farm in California. Medicinal, my ass.”

No one knew anything, of that Eve was now sure. Beckett had reached epic, folkloric proportions.

Mary Ellen’s eyes sparkled. “It seems he’s no longer concerned with Poughkeepsie then. I’ll make sure to cross all my Ts and dot the Is. Anyone else have thoughts to share?” She addressed them like she was at a PTA meeting, looking from one man to another.

No one added anything. This woman was out of bounds and out of order on so many levels. Eve would be surprised if she lived through the next hour. And why was she asking these questions? Surely her father, Rodolfo, would have this information. And if he was ill his people would have this information. They must be shutting Mary Ellen out.

“Very well. Drinks?” Mary Ellen held her hands out, palms up, and the doors to the room were flooded with waiters. Tuxedoed bartenders wheeled in three bars. Music began, and the lights went down. It was like a freaking wedding. “We worked. Now, shall we play? Please, pick your favorite poison, gentlemen.” She pushed herself out of her chair and gestured to the bars, the food arriving on trays, the ladies, and finally to a drug bar.

Mary Ellen stepped away from the table and snapped. It was then Eve realized what the couches were intended for. Dotted around the room, they were soon covered by a long circle of silk to create semi-private quarters.

The man sitting in front of Micki smiled. “Don’t mind if I do.” He signaled over the waiter and Micki at the same time. “You. Blow me.” He winked and pointed under the table. As Micki swallowed her pride and tried to make crawling under the fancy tablecloth look sexy, the man pointed to various foods on the tray and demanded a scotch.

As he stuffed a small crepe in his mouth, his eyes headed skyward. “Oh, yeah. Damn, Mary Ellen, you weren’t kidding. Jesus.” He slid further down in his seat and did his very best to drink and eat while being serviced.

Eve watched as each of the men signaled the woman behind him. Some began dancing with their lady, others demanded a striptease, and still others took their woman into a silk room.

Dan stood and headed for Eve. He was tan enough that she bet his skin was still warm from a tropical location. His eyes were a collage of clears: green, blue, gray. They looked like magic.

“Your name?” He put on the charm and smiled.

“January.”

He took her hand from her side and kissed it. “Are you always this chilly, January?” He stepped around her and tugged her toward the silken circle.

“Yes,” she said as they entered a room. She waited as he reclined on the couch.

“For a girl with a martial arts belt in men’s orgasms, you sure have a lot of clothes on.” He lifted an eyebrow.

The curtain parted, and Eve’s driver cleared his throat. “Excuse me, sir. Miss January? Mary Ellen requests your presence.”