Power (Romantic Suspense) (24 page)

Beautiful.

Although the ocean was dark and murky this deep, the water glowed light blue around the place. Three stingrays swam among thousands of sparkling yellow fish. It was breathtaking to witness. Even more so, with a beautiful woman at my side. A black man with gray dreadlocks played the piano like he made love to a hungry lover. His fingertips glided along the keys with finesse. He caressed them with his eyes closed and his head moving rhythmically to the melody.

Glasses and dishes clinked as servers in blue flowing dresses carried out trays stacked with roasted meats and steaming side dishes filling place with savory and sweet smells. The world marveled over Spectrum’s location, but drooled over their expensive dishes. Mary Jane deserved a taste of the high life. The shopping wouldn’t be enough. Tonight was only going to be the beginning.

I’d ordered three of their signature dishes ahead of time—the lobster frittata made from lobster claws and ten ounces of caviar, the posh pie complete with premium beef cuts, and rock lobsters. Lastly, for dessert, I ordered dark chocolate truffles from France.

Tonight, she was supposed to eat like a queen, not deal with bullshit.

I leaned her way. “I promise, Mary Jane, I’ll make this up to you.”

She blinked and inhaled the aroma swirling around us. “You don’t have to make up anything.”

“But, I will. Just let me deal with them.”

She edged closer to me as if she’d forgotten that they sat in there with us. Her arms began to shake again. I had to calm myself. Had to make sure I kept my temper and not stab every one of them for making Mary Jane nervous
.

If they made me lose her. . .if they had her terrified of me. . .I will fucking kill them and every person that they love.

Things appeared differently when Mary Jane stood next to me. She made everything glow. Walls sparkled around her. Ceilings rose higher. The sky flowed bluer and the air stayed scented with that perfume of hers—vanilla mixed with flowers.

There was nowhere for her to run anyway. I won’t let her go. Does she really understand that about me? Probably not. I’m just understanding that about myself.

Regardless, I got to see my life through Mary Jane’s eyes and her reactions made me nervous.

They ruined tonight.

Although she widened her eyes in amazement at the restaurant’s spectacular view, her arm shook with fear against mine. She was terrified, more than she’d ever been around me. I fucking hated it. At no time was she supposed to be scared. I’d vowed to keep her safe. I ran these streets. My name incited fear. Pumped terror into the coldest man’s blood. I’d planned many things tonight—lavishing her with gifts, romancing her within the sea, and making love to her in my bed until she cried out my name and exploded all over me. But now, as we entered Spectrum’s dining room, my enemies sat in the room and Mary Jane shook in fear.

It’s time for her to see who I really am.

I cleared my throat. The piano player left his musical haze, opened his eyes, and stopped playing. Servers casually glanced over their shoulders and paused. Some still held dishes in mid-air. All conversations ceased. Suddenly, no one had anything to say.

We stood in the doorway—Crusher, Mary Jane, and me. Everyone else stirred. The place stayed silent. Tension thickened in the air. I was glad she couldn’t see my face. She might’ve ran away from me immediately. But everyone else spotted it and every fucking one of them turned away.

It was time to remind everyone of who I was.

“Crusher, get rid of the staff,” I said. “Have them head to the kitchen.”

Worry creased the edges of his eyes, but Crusher did what I ordered. There was nothing to say. When I got like this, it was either help or get out of my fucking way.

I took in the whole room. On my right, Choppa sat at the table and whispered to the Bordello twins as they stood behind him. Whatever he’d said caused the men to scoot closer to him.

Punk ass motherfucker.

He and the twins wore green army fatigues in memory of his brother who’d been in the military. Only in the army for a year, they stationed him in Kabul, Afghanistan. Two weeks later, an explosion set off by a suicide bomber killed nine people, including him. Twenty others had been injured. He was only nineteen years old. While we played this wicked game in the streets, his brother had tried to do the right thing in life by serving his country. Instead, he ended up back home in a casket as Choppa continued to walk the street and sling drugs.

I’d gone to the funeral. Those were the hardest deaths to swallow. Sometimes life could sodomize the soul. What made the wicked survive and the good crumble? Like those poor kids in the playground, unlucky to be having fun next to Domingo and Rasheed.

I continued to scan the room as Crusher guided the small staff into the back.

On my left, Domingo’s brother, Hugo, leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. His clothes appeared wrinkled, which said a lot for the man who’d made a point of being the best dressed gangster in Din City. He and I would compete for fun. Try to grab the best designers and tailors before the other. We might’ve had a closer relationship, if not for the cruelty that always lived in his heart. Hugo liked to cut things so often that blood always stained his fingertips like women wore henna patterns. Tonight was nothing new. The whites of his hands were discolored and red. How long did someone have to play with blood in order for it to tint the skin? I maintained a nice distance between us. When people made me nervous, I killed them. Domingo had asked me not to. That was the only reason why Hugo still breathed.

Today, might be your last day, my friend. Definitely this week.

In the center, Butterfly glared, but she didn’t target her anger at me. She concentrated it all on Mary Jane. A knife visible in her hands. Puerto Rican and Black, she had a rich caramel complexion and long curly hair. Most thought she was the finest woman who ever walked the east coast. Her body was art. Every curve placed in the right spot. And it helped that she was a performance in herself. Each walk was made in the most erotic way. Each bat of her eyes or twist of those painted lips were done so with strategy in mind. Butterfly always got her way with everyone, except one person. Me. That was the thing that I didn’t want to explain to Mary Jane. While I didn’t know what they thought they’d get tonight, I knew why they were there and who’d gotten them together.

Butterfly. What are you plotting? What else do you want from me, chick?

She sat there, covered in roses. Her entire dress made of silk roses sewed together. Beside each rose, exposing flesh in several places. She’d been born with big breasts. When we were kids, I’d been the first person to take them out of their bra and toy with them. I’d been the first to do other things, too, but I’d regretted every damn moment. In the end, Butterfly never learned how to love. She could’ve been an amazing woman. She had the smarts. She could’ve ran the damn country as the first female president. But she was too toxic and dirty inside, so much that I washed my hands even the few times we talked on the phone.

She sat there, looking as beautiful as ever and decorated in exposed flesh and roses. One could see the curve of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. One could make out those long legs and everything else. But that one wasn’t me, as I realized that Mary Jane had her attention locked on my reaction to Butterfly sitting there and looked like she was going to beat the shit out of me.

Well, I’m more scared of Mary Jane right now then all of these motherfuckers with guns. Does she have to look at me like that? This is why women don’t work for me. They’re fucking crazy.

Personally, I’d thought I had an angry face, but Mary Jane surprised me, yet again. She didn’t look happy at all and I wondered if I should call Crusher to come over and stand between us.

Mary Jane asked through clenched teeth, “Why is she looking at me like that?”

I adjusted my tie. “She may be a little jealous.”

“A little? She’s looking at me like I’m standing next to her husband.”

“But I’m not her husband.”

“You better tell her that, before I do.”

It appears that Mary Jane may have a dark side of her own. Should Crusher be protecting her or Butterfly?

“I will tell her that.” I kept my attention on Mary Jane. Not dumb enough to even glance Butterfly’s way again. “Can we just get to the table and make sure that all of the nice gangsters don’t touch you?”

“Okay, but I would like a gun, because the way she’s holding that knife—”

“You’re safe with me.” I undid our arms, slid my hand inch by inch along the curve of her back, placed it on the lush curve of her hip, and pulled her into me. “I’m with you.”

“But—”

“I’m yours.”

“Okay, but—”

“If she’s making you the most uncomfortable, then she’ll be the first to leave.”

She blinked. “Okay.”

The piano man escaped to the kitchen with the rest of the staff. Crusher smiled and nodded as everyone went with no problem. Sadly, his monstrous grin probably didn’t ease their stress as they hurried faster than they needed to.

Crusher shut the kitchen’s back door and walked over to us, while a murderous expression stalked his face. No one was supposed to shoot down here, but I knew everyone had a gun, except Mary Jane.

“Let’s go over to the table.” I took my time leading her over. Choppa and Hugo followed me with their eyes, neither man entirely sure of what they should do next. That told me more than I needed to know. Butterfly had not only gotten them to come here, but she was running the show.

I pulled out a chair across from Butterfly and gestured for Mary Jane to sit down. Crusher brought another chair over to sit it next to my lady.

Butterfly studied Mary Jane. I had to give it to my lady, Mary Jane never backed up or appeared nervous. I don’t know if Fuji and I had been a bad influence on her or if she’d always had a lioness prowling around inside of her. Butterfly’s man stood behind her, scared shitless.

Before I had to deal with business, I needed to make it clear to everyone in that room—from Mary Jane to Butterfly, Choppa and Hugo—that she was mine and meant the most to me.

I won’t let them ruin the entire evening.

In those plush and cushioned chairs, I took Mary Jane in my arms and consumed her lips. How odd it must’ve been for all of them. I had never displayed affection publicly. If I was being real with myself, I never showed affection period. Women had been for a few fun hours and decent conversation on a pillow, before I left them and went to my own room.

Now, here I was sucking on this beautiful woman’s lips and damn near close to ripping the elegant dress off of her body. During our kiss, I had forgotten why I’d even come. I might’ve groaned a little. I might’ve got rock hard in that chair and wanted to fucking take her back into the kitchen, lift her dress up, and take her over the pots of simmering soups. I might’ve groped her like a mad man, cupping her full breasts and pinching the nipples.

“Noah,” she whispered. “Noah.”

Her voice yanked me out of my haze.

She’s got me going crazy. What the hell am I doing?

I cleared my throat. “Sorry.”

Blushing, Mary Jane fixed her dress a little at the top and leaned back in her chair, almost panting.

Butterfly’s voice sliced the air. “You bring your toys to business meetings, now?”

Butterfly gripped the knife harder. Her knuckles looked white. The table shook a little and I knew it was because of the madam’s bad habit. Anytime she got enraged, she tapped her foot steadily as if preparing to charge for someone.

I turned to her. “Say that again?”

This time, she didn’t have as much energy in her comment as she had before, but still she stubbornly repeated it, “You bring your toys to business meetings, now?”

“This is a business meeting?” I unfolded my napkin and placed it on my lap. “Before you answer that, I want you to think about who called that business meeting today. I would like the name of that person, because I didn’t call it, and as far as I remember, I’m the only motherfucker in this room that could call it. So now, I have a problem. I’m now wondering if I should take the time to choke that person until their life is gone, before I eat or after. What do you suggest?”

Fuck. I do talk in long monologues.

Butterfly never let go of the knife, but the anger left her face. “I called the meeting.”

“So then, you’ve called a war.”

“No,” she said.

“That wasn’t a question, Butterfly.”

She tossed me a weak smile. “I don’t want war with you, Noah.”

“Well, I have no idea if you’re going to make it out of here alive. But just in case you do, the next time you refer to my lady as a toy, I’m going to make sure that I burn down every brothel in this city—small to large, rich and poor. Every last one will be set on fire. The city will light up as your money burns away.”

Butterfly’s generous cleavage rose up and down. “Who is she?”

“This is why we don’t work together,” I said. “Like a woman, you allow emotions to rule.”

Mary Jane eyed me with annoyance. “Wait. What? Did you just say that women only rule with emotion?”