The Kiss after Midnight (The Midnight Trilogy) (13 page)

“Do I need an occasion to treat the woman I love?” He could feel her smiling.

“Of course not, honey. I love you, too.”

“So pick out a dress. I have a few errands to run but should be back to pick you up around 7.”

“Can’t wait.”

He got into his Navigator, and the tires screeched as he pulled away.

The beef melted in Rico’s mouth as he chewed and marveled at the restaurant’s décor. He had been to the Five Points Restaurant only once before with Marie, on their first date. As on that visit, he was captivated by the excellent service.

The dining area was large and spacious, each table covered in a pearl-white cloth and a large set of silver cutlery. The lights were dimmed to a level where he could just about see every one of Marie’s beautiful features. The waterfall by the entrance—six feet from where they sat—didn’t irritate him in the slightest but rather relaxed and soothed him. The smooth jazz was the exquisite finishing touch.

He set his fork down with his plate half-full and watched his girlfriend delicately eat her chicken salad. He smiled when her eyes caught his.

“What?” Marie asked. She raised her hands to her mouth.

He continued looking, his smile broadening.

“Have I got something on my face?”

“You look so beautiful,” he said.

Her cheeks turned red. “But you’ve seen me in this dress before.”

He studied her. She wore a long white evening dress with straps and a plunging neckline. He loved the way it displayed her curves for all to see. His beautiful girlfriend was his life. “But I see something even more beautiful in you every day,” he said, “like I do right now.”

She put her fork down, too, and giggled, reaching out to hold his hand. “This is nice,” she said, “just you and me and no one else.”

He smiled until he caught sight of four people three tables away who were looking at him. He pulled his hand back and leaned back to get a closer look.

Marie stared at him. “What is it, honey?”

He frowned when he realized who they were. Directly in his line of sight was Reynaldo, who wore a tight black vest. Opposite him was a slender dark-haired girl with big eyes and thin lips. She was pretty in a demure kind of way. Beside him was Jorge’s other
ejecutor
, Rodrigo Espino, a tall man with dark hair that hung below his shoulders. His American wife, Susan, sat opposite him. Her red hair went perfectly with the red dress she wore.

Marie cocked her head and looked over. At the same time, Reynaldo held up his Champagne glass as if offering a toast. Rico reluctantly nodded and raised his glass, too, before returning his gaze to his own table, a scowl across his face.

“What’s wrong?” Marie asked.

“Just one time. Just one time I wanted to get away from all of them, and they have to spoil it.”

She held his hands again. “Then let’s not allow them. It’s our night, me and you. To hell with them.”

He glanced to his right again and saw a grin on Reynaldo’s face, which angered him. Then he noticed that they
all
appeared to wear the same grin, making his blood boil even more. He breathed in heavily, his fists clenched, as he tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere.

He and Marie ate in silence for the next five minutes before he felt a cold draft slap him on the back of the head. He turned to see Antonio and Fernando walking through the door.

Fernando’s black cardigan fit tightly around his well-sculpted upper body. Antonio wore a neatly pressed white shirt and fitted black trousers. Rico waited till they reached the table before wiping his mouth with a napkin and standing up. He noticed a scowl on Marie’s face and tried to attract her attention by snapping his fingers, but she ignored him. Antonio reached the table and embraced Rico, kissing him on both cheeks, and Fernando followed suit.

“Look at you,” Antonio said to Marie. He held both hands out, and Marie reluctantly stood to embrace her boyfriend’s superior. “That dress is something else.” He looked at Rico. “How did I let you snap this one up? You’re lucky I never saw her first.”

“In your dreams,” Marie muttered.

Antonio scowled at her. “What was that?”

Marie sipped on her drink without acknowledging him. Antonio leaned closer to her. “What the fuck did you say?”

Marie slammed her fork on the table and glared at him before Rico grabbed his hand. “She didn’t mean nothing by that,” he said.

Antonio continued to glare at Marie. “I’m only playing,” he said, smiling, and took a step back. He turned around to look for a waiter and noticed Reynaldo and Rodrigo staring at him. A frown covered his face. Reynaldo lifted his glass, smiling at the same time. Antonio charged toward him, knocking a bottle of wine on an adjacent table to the floor, but Fernando and Rico held him back.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” he growled at Reynaldo.

Reynaldo stood and put his palms together as if pleading for calm. “Let’s not do this here. Not in front of our families.”

“He’s right,” Rico whispered in his ear. “You don’t need to do this. What we’re doing is much more important than this stupid thing you two have going on.”

“It’s not stupid to me,” Antonio hissed. “That punk disrespected me.”

“And when you’re in charge of the family, he’ll pay and you know it.”

Antonio raised his hands in a manner that suggested that he wouldn’t cause any more trouble. Staring intently into the eyes of the diners looking at him, he yanked two chairs from an unoccupied table, smashing a wine glass in the process. Marie winced as he placed the chairs at their table. She gave Rico a disapproving look.

Seated between Fernando and Rico, Antonio sighed and motioned for the waiter. “Get me a ’65 Dom Perignon.”

The waiter swallowed and looked at his manager, who stood a few feet away. Upon seeing no movement from the waiter, he raised his voice. “Are you deaf?” He rose to his feet, and Rico quickly did the same.

“I’m afraid we don’t have that bottle in, sir,” the manager said. “We only do them by special order. We have the 1985 if that’ll be okay.”

Antonio nodded. “Yeah, that’ll do.” He sniffed and sat down again. “So what have you found out about this Saddle guy?” he asked Rico.

Rico gestured toward Marie, who was still glaring at him. “Perhaps we should talk about this privately.”

Antonio looked at Marie and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about that. Marie won’t say anything. She loves you too much to do that, doesn’t she?”

Rico leaned closer to Antonio and lowered his voice. “Even still, let’s just do this privately.”

Marie threw her napkin onto the table and rose to her feet. All three men stood as well. “Don’t mind me,” she said, straightening her dress. “I’ve got to use the ladies room anyway.” She stormed off, cutting Rico with her eyes.

“You need to watch that one,” Antonio said as he relaxed into his chair. “You know how—”

“She’s fine,” said Rico, a hint of anger in his eyes. “Anyway, do you want to know or not?”

Antonio gestured for Rico to speak.

“Well, it seems—” He stopped as the waiter brought the bottle of Champagne. He poured four glasses before leaving.

“As I was saying, it seems that Monroe is completely off the case,” Rico said. “The deputy director is pulling all the strings now and it seems like him and this Tom Saddle have history.”

“What kind?” Fernando said.

“Saddle’s ex-wife is Wheeler’s sister.”

Antonio’s eyes widened. “So he’s quite protected. But is he any good? Could he cause problems for the family?”

“I doubt that. He’s only recently come off a nine-month sabbatical after being shot in the line of duty. Our guy also says he had a drug problem.”

Antonio took a sip of Champagne. “I know, I noticed that. Let’s not worry about them then.”

“But what about Tobias? The trail’s gone cold. No one knows where they are, and I’m hearing that your uncle has put Jorge’s people on it.”

“No way. There’s no way he’d go over my head like that. That guy is mine.”

“And Monroe? He knows a lot.”

“Monroe’s fine. He’ll never squeal. He must not be touched.”

Fernando stood upon seeing Marie return, and Antonio and Rico did the same. Just then the waiter arrived with the dessert menu.

“Do you want something?” Rico asked Antonio and Fernando. They shook their heads.

Marie looked through the menu, making approving and disapproving noises, while the waiter stood by.

“Excuse me, waiter,” a woman’s voice said, and he turned toward Reynaldo’s date, who beckoned him with her hand. The waiter nodded but returned his attention to Marie, who was still looking at the menu.

“Excuse me,” the woman repeated in a raised voice. “Can I get some service, please?”

Antonio stood quickly and turned toward Reynaldo. “Do you think you can keep your fucking bitch in check?”

Gasps filled the room.

Reynaldo threw down his napkin and rose. “I’ve had enough of your shit. Just because of who your uncle is, don’t—”

“Oh, don’t you dare mention his name.” He moved in Reynaldo’s direction, Rico and Fernando staying close to him. “You’re only alive because my uncle respects Jorge. I would have—”

Rico squeezed his arm and gave him a disapproving look. “Be careful what you say,” he whispered. “Everyone’s watching you right now. Everything you say could be quoted.”

Antonio straightened his jacket and glared at Reynaldo. Then he reached out, picked up the bottle of Dom Perignon and smashed it on the floor.

“I’ve fucking had enough of this,” Marie said. She picked up her purse and charged out of the restaurant.

Antonio burst into a fit of laughter. Rico shook his head angrily, picked up his blazer, and ran after her.

Thunder and lightning accompanied heavy rain as he stepped outside. He glanced in both directions, seeing people with umbrellas walking on both sides of the street. After spending ten minutes looking for Marie, he walked toward the back of the restaurant, where he saw her sitting on the pavement, her dress drenched and makeup running across her face.

Rico quickly took off his equally wet jacket and rushed toward her. “What’re you doing out here? You’ll catch a cold.” He tried to put the jacket over her shoulders, but she pushed him away and stood up.

“Why are we still living this life? How can you take orders from that man? That mindless thug?”

Rico held her shoulders. “Antonio means well, but you have to understand he’s a passionate man.”

Marie pushed her wet hair aside, smudging more of her makeup. The rain was falling even harder now. “You need to open your eyes where he’s concerned. You’re such a good person. This loyalty you’ve had for him since you were kids will kill you.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” Rico shouted. “I’m in this for life. There’s no getting out. I look after you, don’t I? You have the clothes, the apartment, the car. What more do you want?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I just want you,” she said, their lips almost touching. “I want the guy who used to bathe me all the time, who would whisper sexy things in my ear at random moments. I want the guy who would take me from behind while I’m in the shower. I don’t even remember the last time we fucked.”

She kissed him passionately, her tongue frantically massaging his. He pulled her close and dropped his jacket to the ground.

It had been a week since they arrived at Staten Island, and every day Tobias wished Annabel would just turn around and tell him that they were all ready to leave the country. The sleeping arrangement had pretty much been the same for the past six days, with Annabel sleeping beside him, not showing any emotion or even a hint of physical attraction.

He sometimes even dozed off feeling as if he were in the bed alone. One night he felt her arms around him and her large breasts pushing against his face. He was immediately aroused, but he frowned upon noticing that she was fidgeting in her sleep.

The food was also consistent—takeout Chinese food—with the exception of the night when Annabel had cooked a healthy, protein-heavy meal. He didn’t eat much for breakfast, usually settling for green tea in an attempt to combat the fat he was surely accumulating. Having his face glued to the news channels made it difficult to go for runs. He resorted to exercising in the apartment instead. He tried to do 300 push-ups and sit-ups a day, along with a forty-five minute stint on the cross-trainer in the spare room.

Annabel remained distant. She certainly looked like a different woman in the jogging bottoms and hooded sweatshirts she wore. She also maintained her daily routine of picking newspapers up and bringing them food. Tobias quickly learned that she was a fiercely independent woman capable of looking after herself.

Oddly enough, he felt as if he had a bodyguard watching over him. And even with the entire country after him, he truly believed he couldn’t ask for a better protector than this big-breasted, five-foot-eight brunette with a gorgeous face and blue eyes who could handle a gun like a Navy SEAL.

It was noon on Sunday, April 25, and he had just finished a workout when Annabel walked in looking even more serious than usual, which he wouldn’t have thought possible. She was carrying two transparent bags containing what looked like suits as well as a large paper bag with handles. She put them on the sofa and lit a cigarette. “Get changed,” she said. “We leave today.”

“What’s that?” He examined the suits, a black one that was apparently for him and a dark blue one for her. The paper bag contained an assortment of false facial hair and wigs. “So how come we can leave all of a sudden?”

She went into the bedroom and came out with a large rucksack filled with pistols and assault rifles. She put the sack on the sofa, too. “My guy called. The passports and our other IDs are ready. We’ll go to Panama and lay low for a while.”

“Panama. Why Panama?”

Annabel walked around the apartment, checking behind the bed’s headboard and under the sofa cushions, as if looking for anything of importance that may have been dropped. “Why not Panama? It’s a non-extradition country. We should be fine there until I think of another move.” She headed toward the bedroom once more before turning around. “Can you get the Glock from the bag?”