Read Gibson & Clarke (Failed Justice Series Book 2) Online
Authors: Rick Santini
There was not a damn thing he could do, and he knew it. If she wanted to spend her evenings with a man close to twenty-five years older than herself, it was her own business. For now, finding a decent paying job was Rik’s top priority.
Why the hell am I wasting my time doing surveillance on a dead issue? No money in that.
Rik was about to pull from the curb when he spotted the black sedan. He waited. Marta came out, did not bother to look to her left or right, and got in the backseat. She did not look good. She looked, well, she looked anxious.
Rik had no idea why. If anyone would have told him Marta was in need of a fix, he would have told them they were crazy. Marta Clarke, former chief assistant district attorney, was the very last person in the world who would try, let alone become addicted, to drugs of any kind.
Stranger things than that have happened.
***
“Would it be all right if we just skipped dinner?”
Xiang had a feeling this would be coming. He had observed all the telltale signs. He had no intention of turning his date/attorney/guest/arbitrator into a druggie. He had too much invested and far too much to lose. She was the only solid link between Mei Ling and him.
“I think it would be best if we ate first. There is no hurry, and I promise you, the pipe will wait until it is the proper time.”
Marta tired hard to smile. Inside she was beginning to panic. She wanted that damn pipe. No, she needed the pipe.
“Whatever you suggest. It’s not that important. Spending time getting to know you is far more interesting.”
She was lying through her teeth, and they both knew it.
Marta had no idea what she ate. The trays were brought to them; a shy young Chinese girl served them and quietly left. The staff had been given very specific instructions. After the meal had been served, they were not to be disturbed. Clean-up could wait until morning.
Xiang was in no hurry. He enjoyed savoring each morsel. It was one of the few joys available to the old man. It was strange how he thought of himself. When he was with Marta, he felt young and alive and still able to take on the world. When he thought of Mei Ling, his long dead parents, and the brief life he had led in China, he felt very old.
Somehow there must be a compromise. It is up to me to find it.
Marta’s eyes were now pleading.
How much longer do I have to wait?
“Did you enjoy your dinner, my child?”
Xiang was well aware she had eaten practically nothing. She had moved the food around her plate—she had diced and sliced the stir fried vegetables and tender cuts of prime beef, but she had not eaten. Her nerves were strung tighter than the strings on a concert quality harp.
“Yes, it was delicious.”
Xiang rose and led Marta to the library. She followed like a well-trained lap dog waiting for a bone.
“Would you like me to fill the pipe, my child?”
Would a dying man in the middle of the desert like a sip of cool water? Of course, you moron, why do you think I came over here and have been practically salivating, waiting for you to break out the good stuff?
“If you don’t mind.”
Xiang decided to tease her a bit more. He slowly filled the pipe, tamped down the contents, lit it and waited for it to cool. He then took a long, slow toke, held it in his lungs for a good five seconds before letting it out. He did not offer the pipe to Marta, who was now practically beside herself with anticipation.
After what seemed like hours, more like ninety seconds, he offered her the pipe. She grabbed it with the intent of never giving it up. She forced herself to relax and take a long, slow hit and then hold it for at least three or four seconds. The results came faster than she expected. Marta took a second hit, this time holding it for five long seconds before exhaling and handing the pipe back to Yeung.
The transformation was unbelievable. She began to listen to her heart beat. She was sure she could hear Yeung’s heart. Marta began counting her pulse as blood circulated through her veins. She could feel her own skin, really feel the pores that made up her skin. She felt alive and aware and conscious of all her body parts.
Then she felt something totally unexpected. The nerve endings in all three of her orifices began to tingle. It was like a persistent itch that had to be scratched. She knew there was only one way to satisfy her intense cravings.
Marta reached over and kissed Yeung. It was long, slow, filled with desire and passion. It was not what she had expected would happen. Yeung was not surprised. In fact, he had anticipated it. He was positive the servants had all left the house as they had been previously ordered to do.
***
It was becoming an obsession, and Rik knew it. As much as he fought the impulse, he could not help but park his car on the far corner of Marta’s street. He swore he would stay there all night if need be. He had to know. Was she actually sleeping with an old decrepit Chinaman? And why? She had too much pride, too much self-assurance, too much character to sleep with someone because he was a wealthy client. She would rather take assigned cases in City Court representing drunks and pimps than prostitute herself in the name of money.
There has to be more. What the hell can it be?
At 2:10 in the morning, he was woken by someone, something tapping on the right front window. He had obviously fallen asleep. He could not remember when he had dozed off.
The cop was waiting for him to roll down his window.
Rik was about to reach for his wallet and PI license when the officer told him to place both hands on the steering wheel and make no sudden moves.
“Slowly hand me your license and registration and give me a good reason why you are here.”
“I’m a former deputy sheriff, now a PI, and am on surveillance for a client.”
“I know damn well who you are, Mr. Rik Scott. I have seen your smug face in the DA’s office far too often. I also know you quit the sheriff’s office and are now working the other side of the street. How could you?”
Before Rik could tell him he was fired, the patrol officer continued.
“I also know you got shit canned from the lawyer gig and are now spying on Ms. Marta Clarke, the former chief senior assistant D.A. I patrol this neighborhood and have been given specific instructions to keep an eye on you and your car.”
“I can’t afford to get busted. I will lose my credentials. I need a break. Please.”
“I’m not sure why, but all right. If I ever see you parked on this street again, I have orders to bring you in. Get your lucky ass out of here. Now.”
Before pulling from the curb, Rik glanced at Marta’s apartment. All the lights were still out. He had no idea what time she got home—or if she was home at all.
Damn it.
Where am I?
It took less than ten seconds to figure out where she was and what she had done. The soiled bed sheets were a dead giveaway.
Slowly, it all came back to her. Xiang had led her to the bedroom. She seemed to remember him ever so slowly undressing her. She was telling him what to do and how to do it, not that it was really necessary. He appeared to know exactly what he was doing, and doing it well, as she recalled. There was something unique and mystical about his mannerisms. It felt almost like a religious experience. She had felt serene and majestic yet powerless to interfere—though, that had never been her intention.
Marta sat up in the king size bed in the guest room. There was no question she was still in Xiang’s home. The furniture and fixtures had a very definite Asian and most expensive taste. The silk sheets were red satin, the light-weight quilt, a goosedown, pure white. She could see the sun streaming in through the crack in the bottom of the shades. It had to be mid-morning.
Is that possible? Could I have slept all night long and never woke up?
She now recalled they were making love and how she had felt transfixed with the pureness of it—it had been almost euphoric. There was a slight knock on the door. She looked down and realized she was completely nude. She pulled the covers up under her chin and asked who it was.
“Ms. Clarke, I have coffee and croissants. May I bring them in?”
Marta was on the verge of a panic attack. She was in her client’s home, stark naked sometime in the morning, and the maid was bringing her breakfast. She had no idea how to handle the situation. Obviously, she could not hide under the bed and had already acknowledged she was there.
“Yes, of course.”
The maid acted as if there was nothing out of place. A guest had come to dinner the night before, may have had too much to drink or smoke, and was invited to spend the night. Nothing unusual or out of place with that.
While the chambermaid set up a tray on a nearby table, Marta noticed the clothes she wore last night, all of them, were neatly folded in a pile on an adjoining chair. There was also another set of clothes, clearly not hers, next to them. She had no idea whose they were.
The maid spotted her looking at the second pile of clothes. Marta was sure she saw a bra and panties lying on top. “Mr. Yeung has provided you with a change of clothes. He asked if you would join him in the garden when you are available.”
Marta merely nodded. She was astonished.
***
The first call she made was to her office. She explained she had again taken a sleeping pill, had overslept, and was going to the doctor for a quick check up and perhaps a new prescription. She would call in later. Nothing to worry about.
“Please tell Billy I’m fine and perhaps we can meet before hours in the morning to go over strategy regarding the Mei Ling/Xiang Yeung matter. Thanks, Miranda.”
After a long shower and admiring the new perfect size and most expensive sundress and accessories, she was ready to meet her new lover in the garden.
How did he know my bra size? How did he know what type of underwear I like? How did he know yellow was one of my favorite colors, and how could he have possibly known I would be sleeping over and needed a change of clothes?
Marta rarely got embarrassed, but as she entered the garden, her face was clearly flushed. It was not as if she were a virgin or had not had overnights before, but this was not planned. Well, at least the lovemaking part was not. She could not bring herself to think of it as sex. It was a new and higher form of lovemaking. It was not only wonderful and more than satisfying, but she was positive it was addictive.
“I hope you slept well, my child?”
“I did. At least I think I did. I would prefer you call me Marta, not “my child.” It seems so out of place. So unrealistic.”
So criminal.
“Of course, Marta.”
As they ate fresh fruit and drank exotic tasting juices, the subject of the night before never came up. It was as if it were dinner and a movie. Nothing out of the ordinary. Marta was dying to ask a million questions as to how and when and why, and if it was, what he expected and was he pleased. After small talk for another half hour, Xiang mentioned he had business associates coming over later in the afternoon. It would not be a pleasant meeting, as he was in the process of transitioning from an active participant in the import business to one as a former player. He volunteered no further information. Marta had no reason to disbelieve him.
“I have asked my driver to take you wherever you want to go and be available if you need to go elsewhere. He is at your disposal for as long as you need him. Thank you for a very pleasant evening, Marta. I look forward to us spending more time together.”
I just had the fuck of my life. It was an incredible experience, one I will never forget. I had an out-of-body experience and he says, “thank you for a pleasant evening.” Talk about a gross understatement.
Marta said nothing. She rose, kissed Xiang on the forehead, and headed toward the front door where the limo and a small package containing last night’s clothes awaited her.
She was home in a half hour. She had no intention of going to the office. Marta had a lot of thinking and remembering to do. And more than a bit of soul searching.
“How are you feeling today? I see you didn’t oversleep.”
Marta smiled, sipped some fresh brewed coffee, and took a deep breath.
“I broke a cardinal rule yesterday. I have no idea what to do and need your advice.”
Billy Jo was not surprised. In fact, few things ever surprised him. He was a master at reading people. Perhaps that was why he was so successful in his practice.
“Go on. I’m listening.”
He knew whatever Marta had to say would not be easy. For a remarkably self-assured lady and a top attorney, she looked like she had been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar.
Marta took one more sip of coffee to fortify herself and looked Billy square in the eyes.
“I slept with a client last night. To be more specific, Xiang Yeung and I made love.”
Billy had guessed this was the case. The use of words “Xiang Yeung and I made love” surprised him. It was not what he expected. It sounded far too serious. That was not good. That was far from good. That could be disastrous.
“Ordinarily, what you do and who you do it with is none of my business. You are a big girl, and I’m not one to lecture anyone on the physical needs that have to be constantly gratified, but Mr. Yeung is the last person I figured you would have sex with, and the fact he is our biggest client scares the living shit out of me. What happens when you say no? Thanks, but no thanks anymore. What does he do then? Where does he go for legal representation, and what happens to the balance of the retainer, not to mention we have expanded significantly, all due to your Mr. Yeung.”
Marta had not thought of all the ramifications. The fact was, the office had more than doubled in size and personnel, all due to Xiang. All she could think of was the wonders of the pipe and how good it made her feel.
My judgment is no better than a street crack addict. I can’t tell Billy I agreed to try heroin. I can kiss my license goodbye. I can kiss my career goodbye. I can kiss my damn life goodbye. For what? Getting high for a few hours?
“I’m sorry, Billy. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You are one in a million. You’re sharp and perceptive and know the law backwards and forward. Why the hell do you think I picked you? You’re the best of the best. And now this. ‘I’m sorry, Billy,’ just doesn’t cut it. We, I mean you, have to do something about it. Can I assume it was a one-night stand?”
“I don’t think so. I have feelings for him, and I know he has feelings for me.”
Billy sat there, not believing what he was hearing. It made no sense. If she wanted a roll in the sack with Rik, no one would give a rat’s ass. But to tell him she had feelings for him, an international billionaire drug dealer who was Chinese and a good twenty-five years older than her, made no sense. No fuckin’ sense at all.
There has to be more to the story, but what?
“Is there anything else I should know?”
Billy waited for a response. Any response. He wanted, no he needed, to get to what was really going on.
“No. Nothing. We have been spending a great deal of time together on the Mei Ling matter. I have been to his home a few times and find he is a warm, sensitive human being who is totally misunderstood and has a great deal of love to give.”
Billy could not believe what he was hearing. Without thinking, a rare occurrence for him, he shouted back at her, “He’s a fucking drug lord. He’s made millions, probably billions, selling crack cocaine and who knows what else to thousands and thousands of kids whose lives are fucked up forever. He has probably killed more people with heroin than die in auto accidents in Jersey every week. And you’re telling me he’s a warm, sensitive human being. If that’s so, I’m fuckin’ Santa Claus.”
Marta sat there and said nothing. There was nothing to say. Billy Jo was telling the truth. The truth about a man she had just fallen in love with.
With that realization, she got up, said nothing to Billy, who was staring at her with a look of disbelief, and left the room.
My problems are far bigger than I ever imagined.
Marta then thought of Mei Ling and the hundreds of patients she had seen and treated and the utter disdain she had for her own brother.
What the hell am I going to do? I’m in love with a monster.
Billy sat in the room and had no idea what she was thinking or why. There was no question he would have to tell Black Jack and decide what to do. This was far too big to let sit and fester. The very existence of the firm depended on it.
He could hear Marta in her office quietly sobbing. Billy felt bad, but it was her own damn fault.