The cost of vengeance - [29]

“See, Mike,” Bobby said and put his arm around Bull. “It was just like I told you. Skip is the man we should be lookin’ for. Not my man Bull here. He’s always been loyal to us. Right, Bull?”

“Right.”

“All you need to do now is tell us where Skip is hidin’ out, and it will all be over for you,” Bobby said.

“He’s hold up at his lawyer’s house; a chick named Quovadda Cobb. She got a place on the Island in Massapequa, on Leonard drive. I don’t know the address, but it’s a brick house.”

“Thank you,” Bobby said and shot Bull in the head. “Now it’s over for you.”

Chapter Fourteen

Jada West

It was getting late in the evening and I had only two things on my mind. One was always on my mind. That was money. If there was one thing about me, it was that I was all about the money. It was in my blood. But when Mr. Black looks at me with those piercing eyes, it has the same effect as it did the first time. My mind began to drift to thoughts of him staring into my eyes while he was deep inside me, but I caught myself. I had to remind myself that I had important business to discuss with Mr. Black. When my issues were behind me, then I could think about indulging my passion to seduce him.

I picked the phone and dialed a number. “Cuisine, how my I help you?” the woman answered.

“I would like to speak with Mike Black if he’s available.” I said hoping for the best. If he were available, I would arrange to get a suite at the Peninsula Hotel and invite him over for cocktails.

“Mr. Black isn’t in this evening,” she replied. “Is there anybody else that can help you?”

“Unfortunately no, there really isn’t,” I said and hung up the phone. There was only one man that I wanted and nobody else would do. I got up and walked over to the window and wondered why that man doesn’t have a cell phone. Then I remembered that he called me that night to say that he was on his way. I rushed back to the phone and scrolled through the call log until I saw a number that I didn’t recognize. I pressed talk, and once again hoped for the best. As the phone rang, I thought about what I had said to him when he left here that night. “Thank you for agreeing to help me,” I said and kissed Black on the cheek.

“What was that for?”

“Just wanted to see how it felt.”

“And?”

I opened the door. “We’ll talk about that when you tell me what I owe you.”

“Fair enough,” Mr. Black said and walked out of the apartment. What I should have done was put my arms around him and kissed his lips, instead the little peck on the cheek I offered up. Maybe then he’d be calling me, instead of me sitting here trying to hunt him down.

“Hello,” a man finally answered, but it wasn’t Mr. Black.

“Yes, my name is Jada West and I am trying to get in touch with Mike Black,” I began.

“Yes, Ms. West, how are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“My name is Victor. I was the gentlemen that was with Black the other night when he came to your apartment,” he said and I was overjoyed that at least I was on the right track.

“Is Mr. Black available?”

“I’m not with him right now,” Victor said, and just that quickly I went from overjoyed to unhappy. “But I could take a message for him.”

“Would you?”

“No problem.”

“If you would ask Mr. Black to give me a call this evening at his convenience, I would be most appreciative.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Please assure him that everything is fine. I would just like to speak with him,” I said and Victor ended the call promising to deliver my message. After I hung up, I wondered if I should have said that it was important, and that I needed him right way.

Maybe I needed to use a more direct approach on Mr. Black. At each of our previous encounters we flirted with one another, but if I could just tell him to come by so we could have sex.

Just then, the door flew opened and Jenna rushed in. “Jada, oh my God, Jada,” she said and came to where I was sitting. It was obvious that she had been crying.

“Okay, Jenna. Calm down and tell me what’s wrong?”

Jenna sat down on the couch next to me and my first thought was that Oleg Mushnikov was back, or one of his goons had attacked her. I looked at her face and the gown she was wearing, and both still looked as good as they did when she walked out four hours ago-except for the tears.

“He’s dead,” Jenna said.

“Who’s dead?”

“The client,” Jenna said trying to pull herself together.

“The client?” I shouted. “Patrick?” Patrick Owens was one of my better clients. He was a closeted gay man who worked at a company that frowned that on type of lifestyle. So to keep his cover, anytime his company had a function, Patrick would hire one of my ladies to attend the function with him. No sex involved; just to be seen with him. Since it would be an easy night this evening, I sent Jenna.

The event was to be held in the Starlight Roof at the Waldorf Astoria. This legendary Art Deco landmark occupies an entire city block on fashionable Park Avenue. The venue features floor-to-ceiling windows presenting sweeping views of New York City and Park Avenue, eighteen stories below. I selected an Yves Saint Laurent draped silk satin dress that wraps and ties in a soft bow at the waist, with a crossover V neckline, cap sleeves, wide ties at waist, and a draped contour hem; Yves Saint Laurent tribute patent leather platform sandals with buckled T-strap, and an Alexander McQueen whipsnake design with a Swarovski-embellished leather glove clutch for her to wear. Patrick was her first client and now she was sitting there telling me that he was dead.