stare.
“You’re late,” Nathan Quinn said simply, gently pushing the woman from him and turning toward Sasa.
“Yes,” Sasa replied, “we had to make an important stop along the way.” He didn’t offer an apology. They both knew who had whom by the balls, in spite of the way it seemed.
“I see. But you have it, of course.”
“Of course,” he answered, pulling the DVD from the inside breast pocket of his thin leather blazer. He walked forward and handed the black jewel case to the client, whose large hands made it look like a playing card. The man stared at it for a moment, a wolfish expression taking over his already-intimidating face. A low growl escaped from his throat. And then he turned that look on Sasa, who struggled not to back up toward the door. “Will you stay and watch tonight?”
“No, thank you,” Sasa said, his regretful smile not in the least sincere.
And at that, he seemed to disappear from Quinn’s consciousness. Quinn extended his hand to the woman, and they walked from the study. As they walked past Sasa, he noticed she still had not closed the top of her vampish red Lycra dress. The butler had stood waiting to escort Sasa back, and he did so now, closing the door behind him. Halfway down the stairs, Sasa heard a cheer erupt from the house. Show time.
He lighted a cigarette with his sterling Zippo and walked to his car. He was sweating again; it was too hot for the leather jacket he wore. Boris had managed to extract himself from the vehicle and was leaning against the hood.
“Z’all right?”
Sasa nodded. Boris looked away. Sasa got in his car and waited for Boris to remove his enormous ass from the hood and get in. As soon as he had closed the door, Sasa pulled down the drive fast, his tires squealing as he went.
chapter nine
T he opulent home of Nathan and Jenna Quinn was located on Snug Island, an enclave of exclusive waterfront properties near South Beach, a jewel nestled in giant palms. It was a peaceful and beautiful neighborhood, whispering fronds and wind chimes the only sounds, the scents of saltwater and newly cut grass heavy in the air. The tranquillity and beauty were so striking in contrast to their sometimes gritty and harsh neighborhood at home that Lydia found herself trying to remember for a moment why she and Jeffrey stayed in New York City. She figured their duplex apartment, about a quarter of the size of the grandly opulent homes they passed—if she was being generous in her estimate—had cost about as much. Oh, well, I guess that’s the price you pay to live in the center of the universe, she thought.
It was coming on noon, and Lydia’s stomach was starting to rumble as they pulled up the steep drive edged in stout palms in their rented black Jeep Grand Cherokee. They followed Detective Manuel Ignacio in his maroon Taurus, which looked as if it had seen better days, even though it was well maintained. The same could be said of the detective. A handsome man, who looked to be approaching fifty, he had the slightest hint of blue fatigue under his eyes and just the shadow of stubble on his jaw, though it was early in the day. But he was neatly, if not expensively, dressed in a starched white shirt, navy tie, and charcoal gray suit, only the slightest paunch hanging over his belt. His graying black hair was neatly cut and precisely combed. He had the look of a man who worked hard and did his job well, but the stress of the case was obviously taking its toll. Burnout was right around the corner for this detective.
When the detective had arrived at the precinct that morning just after 8:00 A.M. , carrying a cup of Starbucks coffee and a copy of the Miami Herald , he found Lydia and Jeffrey waiting outside his office. Lydia was used to being treated like an interloper when she tried to insinuate herself into a case. But the detective had seemed glad to see them, greeting them both with an enthusiastic handshake and offering them coffee. He welcomed them
“You’re late,” Nathan Quinn said simply, gently pushing the woman from him and turning toward Sasa.
“Yes,” Sasa replied, “we had to make an important stop along the way.” He didn’t offer an apology. They both knew who had whom by the balls, in spite of the way it seemed.
“I see. But you have it, of course.”
“Of course,” he answered, pulling the DVD from the inside breast pocket of his thin leather blazer. He walked forward and handed the black jewel case to the client, whose large hands made it look like a playing card. The man stared at it for a moment, a wolfish expression taking over his already-intimidating face. A low growl escaped from his throat. And then he turned that look on Sasa, who struggled not to back up toward the door. “Will you stay and watch tonight?”
“No, thank you,” Sasa said, his regretful smile not in the least sincere.
And at that, he seemed to disappear from Quinn’s consciousness. Quinn extended his hand to the woman, and they walked from the study. As they walked past Sasa, he noticed she still had not closed the top of her vampish red Lycra dress. The butler had stood waiting to escort Sasa back, and he did so now, closing the door behind him. Halfway down the stairs, Sasa heard a cheer erupt from the house. Show time.
He lighted a cigarette with his sterling Zippo and walked to his car. He was sweating again; it was too hot for the leather jacket he wore. Boris had managed to extract himself from the vehicle and was leaning against the hood.
“Z’all right?”
Sasa nodded. Boris looked away. Sasa got in his car and waited for Boris to remove his enormous ass from the hood and get in. As soon as he had closed the door, Sasa pulled down the drive fast, his tires squealing as he went.
chapter nine
T he opulent home of Nathan and Jenna Quinn was located on Snug Island, an enclave of exclusive waterfront properties near South Beach, a jewel nestled in giant palms. It was a peaceful and beautiful neighborhood, whispering fronds and wind chimes the only sounds, the scents of saltwater and newly cut grass heavy in the air. The tranquillity and beauty were so striking in contrast to their sometimes gritty and harsh neighborhood at home that Lydia found herself trying to remember for a moment why she and Jeffrey stayed in New York City. She figured their duplex apartment, about a quarter of the size of the grandly opulent homes they passed—if she was being generous in her estimate—had cost about as much. Oh, well, I guess that’s the price you pay to live in the center of the universe, she thought.
It was coming on noon, and Lydia’s stomach was starting to rumble as they pulled up the steep drive edged in stout palms in their rented black Jeep Grand Cherokee. They followed Detective Manuel Ignacio in his maroon Taurus, which looked as if it had seen better days, even though it was well maintained. The same could be said of the detective. A handsome man, who looked to be approaching fifty, he had the slightest hint of blue fatigue under his eyes and just the shadow of stubble on his jaw, though it was early in the day. But he was neatly, if not expensively, dressed in a starched white shirt, navy tie, and charcoal gray suit, only the slightest paunch hanging over his belt. His graying black hair was neatly cut and precisely combed. He had the look of a man who worked hard and did his job well, but the stress of the case was obviously taking its toll. Burnout was right around the corner for this detective.
When the detective had arrived at the precinct that morning just after 8:00 A.M. , carrying a cup of Starbucks coffee and a copy of the Miami Herald , he found Lydia and Jeffrey waiting outside his office. Lydia was used to being treated like an interloper when she tried to insinuate herself into a case. But the detective had seemed glad to see them, greeting them both with an enthusiastic handshake and offering them coffee. He welcomed them
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