Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) (12 page)

CHAPTER 24

“I insist. There is no discussion. Please make it clear to her.”

Marta knew it was a mistake, but it appeared there was nothing she could do but to present it. She had to give Mr. Yeung his due. If he was going to hand over a check for almost three million dollars, he was damn sure going to do it in person. The only question was would Mei Ling accept it—in person. It was now a battle of two very strong-willed people.

And why shouldn’t it be? They were brother and sister.

“I will try and make the arrangements.”

“Don’t try. Just do it,” was the response.

“Yes, Mr. Yeung.”

***

“How are you doing?”

Marta was startled by the question and more so by the person asking it. She had virtually no contact with Rik since she had ordered him to obtain more information on Mei Ling and the business relationship between Sonny and Mr. Yeung. As for any type of social interaction—zero. Nada. Nunca.

“Don’t ask.”

“But I am asking. ’Cause I can see you are worried. And because I care.”

That stopped Marta in her tracks. She had assumed the reason Rik had taken an interest in the first place was because she was great in the sack and more than willing to swap spit with him. They always ended back at her place, and God knows, she was not a prude. Whatever he wanted, she gave him in spades. The fact was, she was hornier than he was, and a good night of great sex did wonders for her personality, not to mention one hell of a cardio workout. She was once told it was also good for her complexion.

Rik had the stamina and gusto of a young bull in stud. He had what every woman wants, an insatiable appetite. He was also the most appreciative lover she’d ever had and let her know it.

What else was there?

Nothing. Perhaps I’ve been too hard on him.

Marta smiled as to the play on words.

“Can I buy you a drink tonight? I think I need to unwind.”

Rik’s smile lit up the room. “You bet, boss lady.”

“Forget the Boss Lady. This is strictly two good friends getting together for a drink. Or two.”

“Right.” Rik’s mind was now in overdrive.

“Let’s meet at Pistol Pete’s around six thirty. I’ll buy you a drink and dinner. Then we can decide where we go from there.”

Marta knew damn well what he meant.

“Six thirty it is. Now I’ve got to make a few phone calls. Hopefully to people who are willing to listen and not prejudge.”

Without thinking, she touched her fingers to her lips and then touched Rik’s cheek.

My body is a mass of knots. I feel like the strings on a damn grand piano. I need to release some tension. I need to get laid. Big time.

Just the thought of it made Marta feel better. Much better.

It was only two forty-five, three and a quarter more hours to go. Not to mention drinks and dinner.

Maybe we can order take-out.

Marta laughed at the absurdity of it all. Why was she making such a big deal about sex? It wasn’t as if she were a drowning person in the desert who suddenly thought she spotted a spouting oasis.

Again, the play on words, I must be hornier than I thought.

***

“Are you serious?”

“Mei Ling, there are certain things I do not joke about. A cashier’s check for two point seven million is one of them. But there is a condition.”

“Of course, there always is.”

Mei Ling knew the condition before the words were even out of Marta’s mouth.

“I know. The most generous benefactor in the world wants to present the check to me in person, and that person has to be my brother. Do you really think I believed it was some do-gooder? Xiang is a cunning man. He thinks he can buy me. He can’t. Yes, I will meet with him; we can have tea together and discuss our long-lost parents and how he became so filthy rich. I will then take his money and never speak to him again. Please tell him those are my conditions.”

“You may change your mind, Mei Ling.”

“Yes, and I may begin to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, but I really don’t think so.”

Marta did not reply. She had another phone call to make. Actually, she had several. The phone calls could wait. She needed to feel sexy, fast. A hot bubbly bath, soak in the tub, jasmine-flavored cream on her body and some scandalous underthings would do the trick. She was thinking more than a drink or two, just two old friends getting together. She was thinking hot, steamy, get-down-to-basics sex.

She was thinking,
I’ll-be-too-sore-to-walk-in-the-morning sex.
Marta then added,
I hope.

***

Rik got to Pistol Pete’s a few minutes early, as was his style. He too needed a few minutes to think and consider if and what his relationship with Marta was all about. There were two distinct choices. Either he was a boy toy to be used when she needed him or there were real feelings for him as a man, not an on-demand stud. The real question was, what did he want?

Getting laid was never a big deal to Rik. There was more pussy on the street than he could handle in the next five to ten years. There was also a big difference between quality and quantity.

No question, Marta was quality, with a capital Q.

***

Marta was trying to decide which set of bra and panties she would wear—the sexy, black lace set or the satin turquoise. They both looked outrageous against her mocha-colored skin. Her cell phone interrupted her thoughts. She had no intention of answering it. They would leave a message or call back later. The ID showed it was Mr. Yeung.

This was Mr. Moneybags himself, and she owed him a call. Marta picked up the cell and began to get dressed. The black lace set, she decided. No one could resist that one, not that it was offered very often.

“Good evening, Mr. Yeung, I was just about to call you. Yes, I had a most interesting conversation with Mei Ling.”

She attempted to relay the previous conversation word-for-word, or as best she could remember it. She mentioned Mei Ling would be only too pleased to take his money for a worthy cause, but all it would buy him was a few minutes’ conversation, at best.

Xiang already knew that. He had spent the past few days preparing for it. There was very little he could do but go along with his sister’s agenda.

At least for now.

“Tell me when and where. And who should I make the check payable to?”

Marta was caught speechless.

“I’ll get back to you in the morning. I’m in the middle of getting dressed for an important dinner date.”

“I won’t ask what you are wearing, but I am envious.”

For the second time in less than a minute, Marta did not know what to say.

Why in the hell would he be jealous?

“It’s with one of my associates. Business only, I can assure you.”

Why am I telling him this? It’s none of his damn business. The fact is, I’m dressing so Rik will not be able to resist what I plan on offering him for dessert.

“Perhaps some time we can have dinner together. Strictly social, not business.”

Son of a bitch, the old timer is actually coming on to me.

“That would be very nice, Mr. Yeung. Let’s see what unfolds in the next few days. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”

Marta zipped up her LBD, checked her makeup, brushed back her hair for the hundredth time, and grabbed her car keys. The house had been previously cleaned and prepared for guests. Better make that singular. Guest.

She was having trouble concentrating on Rik. Her mind was on a short, considerably older, Chinese gentleman who was a billionaire and wanted to have a social dinner with her.

Why? Whatever I have, he could buy a dozen of. A hundred of.

CHAPTER 25

Rik was sitting at the bar, waiting.

He purposely arrived a good fifteen minutes early. He had requested a quiet table in the back. A folded twenty to the head waiter did the trick.

Marta looked good enough to eat, to use a trite and overused expression. The LBD—little black dress—left nothing to the imagination. It was if she was poured into it. Rik was not the only one to turn a head as she confidently walked in and spotted him. She gave him a sweet peck on the cheek, merely to show possession and let everyone know she was taken—at least for tonight.

“Sir, your table is ready,” the head waiter said as he led them to a corner table.

Rik had taken the liberty to order Marta her favorite drink, a vodka martini. Shaken, not mixed. Sorta like Bond, James Bond in his classic movies. Dinner had to have been good, neither commented nor complained. There was only one thought on the minds of both—and it was not a subject for polite dinner conversation.

Sex. Not love making, not sweet overtures. Just plain old down and dirty sex. Sweaty, animalistic, all-I-want-is-to-satisfy-myself sex.

Each smiled at the other during dinner, knowing they were thinking the same thing. Marta suggested they skip coffee and dessert. At least for the time being.

She had finally gotten Mr. Yeung out of her mind. She would revisit that thought in the morning—or whenever.

***

Politeness or proper protocol was not the subject for the evening. Marta had barely unlocked the front door when Rik began to grab and paw. Before she could object, which she had no intention of doing, he had unzipped the full length of her dress. She shrugged it off into a small pile on the floor. It would not take long for the pile to grow. By the time they made it to the bedroom, she was wearing the black lace bra and panties. He was wearing only skimpy, black bikini-like shorts.

“Don’t say a word. Fuck me. Now.”

He mounted her like a pent up, caged jungle cat. She wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles. Tight. She bit his neck and scratched his broad back. He grabbed her ass and squeezed. Hard. Aside from guttural sounds, neither said a word. This lasted for a good ten minutes. Then neither could hold back another second.

“I’m coming,” came a low voice from deep within her.

With one final thrust, he answered, “Me too.”

For the next twenty minutes they lay next to each other. Spent. Finally, Rik moved.

“Again?”

“Again.”

Thirty minutes later, they were both sound asleep. No one knew what they were dreaming about or even if they were dreaming, but they both had smiles on their faces.

It was seven thirty and Marta was showering alone when the uncomfortable conversation with Mr. Yeung surfaced again. It bothered her to the point she needed to call him for clarification. She knew damn well she couldn’t just ask why the sudden interest in her as a person, not a hired-gun defense lawyer, so she waited until nine then called Mei Ling to say her proposal had been accepted.

“Thirty minutes of face time with your long-lost brother in return for a donation to your charity in the amount of two million, seven hundred thousand dollars. If, in fact, the meeting lasts thirty minutes, that’s ninety thousand per minute.”

I would talk to Kim Jong II, the leader of North Korea, for that kind of money.

“Agreed. Shall we say noon tomorrow at my office. Just the two of us, one half hour only, and tell him the wire transfer must be completed by then.”

Mei Ling had been prepared and gave Marta the routing instructions.

“Understood. I will drive Mr. Yeung to your office, introduce him to you, as if that is really necessary, and leave. I will be outside ready to drive him back when he leaves.”

You can be damn sure we’re not going in any limo or chauffeur-driven car. I’ll be doing all the driving. I’ll also have plenty of time to ask questions from my captive audience.

The burning sensation between her legs was now long forgotten. That was last night; today was today. Marta had answered at least one question. It was sex, not love. Not even close. Rik was a fantastic lover, and as long as he could be kept on a very short leash, it was a great arrangement.

When I need to be satisfied, I’ll call him. Nothing wrong with that. The last thing I need or want is to be in a relationship. Any relationship. With anyone.

***

Sitting alone in his cubicle, Rik was also thinking.

This is the real thing. I just know it. Why, the things we did last night, she just has to love me. No question I love her and I’m sure she loves me. Maybe I’ll suggest I move some of my clothes over to her place on the weekend. Just some shorts, t-shirts, and toiletries to begin with.

Rik was not ready to propose marriage, at least not yet, but he was sure ready for a committed relationship. He would spend the weekends at her place for a while, maybe a few months, and then give up his own place and move in with her. Who knows, they might end up getting a third place that would be considered “theirs,” not hers.

He would talk to her in the next day or two. The timing had to be right.

***

Marta was now driving a brand new all white BMW 550 sedan. The seats had been custom-ordered, all white leather. It was leased, but no one had to know it. She agreed to pick up Mr. Yeung, against his strong objections, at eleven a.m. He was wearing a traditional all silk cream colored embroidered robe over the same colored slacks. She was purposely wearing a black skirt with an exaggerated slit on one side, black stockings, a red blouse, and a black short jacket. Her hair hung down her shoulders. It was totally professional. And totally sexy.

She needed to see his reaction.

Mei Ling had confirmed her bank had received the wire transfer.

Marta was not about to engage in small talk on the ride to Mei Ling’s office. The tension could be cut with a dull knife. There would be plenty of time to talk on the ride back.

***

You would have thought it was the Chinese New Year. Mei Ling was wearing a red robe and looked very Asian when she answered the door. She stared at the elderly gentleman in front of her. She wanted to hug him, hold him, laugh, and cry and tell him how much she had missed him all these years. Instead, she stood very prim and proper and welcomed Xiang to her office. There was no show of emotion on her part.

Xiang did not know what to say or expect. The last time he had seen his little sister, she had been eight or nine years old, a mere child. He reached forward to give her a sibling-type hug. She instantly pulled back.

“This is a business meeting, Xiang, not a family reunion. Ms. Clarke, if you will please excuse us.”

Marta got the message, loud and clear. “I’ll be waiting outside. No hurry, no hurry at all.”