Black Girls and Bad Boys: Stealing Loretta (11 page)

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“O
kay, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Whoever was
at the door didn’t seem to understand the concept of patience. They kept on
hammering even as he called out to them. He picked up his gun, then thought
better of it and put it under a sofa cushion.

Foolishly, he opened the door without
looking through the peephole and Gina bowled into his apartment. “What the fuck
happened yesterday?”

“Hello Gina.” Not today. He couldn’t handle
her today.

“What did you do? Bill’s in custody.”

And she had the nerve to come over shouting
the odds? “I’m sorry you had to sleep in an empty bed last night.” He saw her
hand coming towards his face. He didn’t bother trying to stop it. Part of him
felt like he deserved the slap. It landed with a bracing sting. “Feel better
now?”

She sat down on the sofa. She looked
different. Then he realised what it was – she wasn’t wearing any make-up.
“Jesus, you really care about him, don’t you?”

She watched him with red-rimmed eyes. “Not
everyone’s as heartless as you.”

Shit. He’d never asked her where she
thought things were going between them – he’d always just assumed she didn’t
want more than a fling. And now she was getting serious with Bill. He hadn’t
imagined it would hurt.

But that was nothing compared with how she
must be feeling.

He looked away, not knowing what to say
next. When he looked back, she was holding his own gun on him.

“You knocked him out and left him there.
Did you call the police too?”

“Gina, no. You know how it is between me
and him. Especially after you two—”

“Like you care what I do. All you care
about is your own skin. Did you call the cops?” She held the gun in both hands,
but her arms were shaking with the weight. He took a step towards her and she
lifted it higher, pointing the barrel right at his face. “Stay where you are.”

He had no idea if she’d ever shot anyone
before. Not that it really made any difference. It wouldn’t be any consolation
to be her first kill. “Gina, listen to me. Bill was going to double-cross all
of us.”

“Nice try. He loves me.”

Unlike you.
Those
were the words that she didn’t say but that rang out loud and clear. This
wasn’t as much about what had happened to Bill as it was about the way he’d
rejected her.

“He’d never do anything against Daddy. You,
on the other hand...” Her jaw tightened in anger. It was shocking to see just how
much she hated him now.

“I’m sorry, Gina. But I didn’t call the
cops. We took down half a wall to get in there. Anyone who heard us could have
called the authorities.”

Her aim dropped and he took a step forward,
holding up his hands to show her he wasn’t going to try anything. He heard the
bang before he felt the thump in his thigh. The next thing he knew, he was on
the floor trying not to scream from the pain. Turns out the stories he’d heard
about getting shot weren’t exaggerations – it hurt like a bastard.

“Oh my god.” Gina dropped the gun and ran
outside.

“Gina!” She could have at least called for
help first. He lay there and let the agony take over for a while.
Please
don’t let me black out.

How the hell was he going to put plan B
into motion now?

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W
hat on earth was the dress code for an
illegal high-roller poker game? Loretta had no idea. She thought about phoning
Jordan to ask his advice, but she still couldn’t quite believe he was going
along with it. Better to leave him alone than risk him changing his mind.

For that reason, she spent most of Sunday
flicking through her wardrobe wondering if jeans would be too casual or if a
trouser suit would be too much. She was too nervous to start trying things on.
Knowing her luck, she’d find the perfect outfit and then the stress would make
her throw up on it.

A dress seemed the safest bet. Something
not too showy. There were a fair few knee-length ones in the closet. She pulled
out a burgundy number with a neckline just below the collarbone. Feminine
without being vampy.

With that decided, she played a few
practice hands online. She knew she was good – better than she’d let Jordan know
– but it didn’t pay to get over-confident. Games on the computer were
completely different to games round a table, but a few wins settled her down.

Knowing Jordan had an ace up his sleeve was
a big help too. She would have gone ahead anyway, but she felt safer having him
as back up.

The night began at ten, so she pulled out
of her drive at just after eight thirty. Ursino had briefed her about where she
was going, but the word ‘mansion’ didn’t quite capture the enormous pile she
drove up to. Architecture wasn’t something she knew much about, but the white
building was of a size that demanded you started talking about wings and hiring
staff to manage the other staff.

There was some serious money in the air.
And she was going to do her best to get hold of a chunk of it.

She parked up out front in a clear open
spot. It was never a bad idea to be cautious. There was a handful of people
heading up the steps to the door. Apparently arriving on time wasn’t cool –
only four other cars were sitting outside.

Loretta followed the others into the house.
The entrance hall was dominated by a chandelier hanging low from the ceiling.
The wood panels, the stairs, the floor – everything was polished to within an
inch of its life. If the lighting hadn’t been so muted, they would have all
been blinded.

A silver-haired gent in a sharp black suit
was taking coats, but she’d left hers in the car. After the expected
pleasantries, he patted the men down. The women were turned over to a hostess
in a neat black cocktail dress for the same treatment. This was a world away
from her university poker nights.

The early arrivers were directed through to
a room filled with dark coffee tables and wing-backed chairs.

“Drink, madam?” The waiter standing at her
shoulder made her jump. She hadn’t heard him walk up to her.

“What is it?” Alcohol wouldn’t be a good
idea.

“Champagne or orange juice.”

She took a glass of the latter. “Thank
you.” Now what was she supposed to do until things got going? She couldn’t
imagine what would pass for small-talk in this sort of company.

***

J
ordan bit down on his bottom lip as the
doctor examined his leg. Gina had seen fit to call him after she left. She’d
even forwarded an apology.

“You were lucky. It’s gone straight
through. I’ll give you a couple of stitches.”

Lucky wasn’t what he’d call it. “Have you
got any painkillers?”

The doctor gave him a fatherly look. “Stick
to what you’ve got in the bathroom cabinet. Apart from that, all you need is a
few days’ rest.”

He shook his head. “I’ve got things to do.
Tonight.”

“Whatever it is will have to wait. If you
burst those stitches you’re going to be worse off than when you started.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. A tense silence
descended, punctuated by the occasional sharp intake of breath as the man got
to work.

“I know you guys think you know everything,
but trust me on this. Go to bed. Watch TV. Stay off your leg.”

“Yes, Doctor.” But he wasn’t fooling
anybody.

He left without handing out any pills.
Jordan didn’t even get the chance to rifle through his bag when he wasn’t looking.
Fortunately, he had other connections.

Ten minutes and a phone call later saw him
holding a blister pack of the finest pain relief money could buy. He didn’t
take any yet. He’d do as the doctor said for as long as possible, but when
midnight rolled around he’d be knocking back pills and heading out the door.
Loretta wasn’t going to be alone in that hornet’s nest. She was more important
than a few burst stitches.

***

T
he mingling and drinking came to an end
and it was time to sit down at the game tables in the adjoining room. It turned
out mob associates chatted about the weather just like everyone else. Loretta
carried her chips over to one of the less prestigious games and waited for the
seats to fill up.

The first few hands were far from taxing.
She made some small gains without drawing attention to herself. Enough to let
her relax. The play was seductive. She listened to the banter, not getting
involved herself. It was obvious who shared history from the way they pushed
each other’s buttons. Her strategy was to be as inscrutable as possible and
throw out the odd false tell to muddy the waters. It worked well enough to get
her onto the next tier of tables.

She was building up a very nice collection
of chips. It was too early to start thinking she was even halfway home, but the
signs were encouraging. Her next few hands added to an already generous stack
of winnings.

As the columns of chips grew in front of
her, it got harder to stay detached. There was really a chance this might work.
Jordan could be free to live an honest life.

They could be together. Properly.

If that was what he wanted.

She played on, taking smaller risks as her
winnings piled up.

“Excuse me madam, would you come with me?”

She looked behind her at the tap on her
shoulder. A very large man with a shaved head and one of those black suits that
marked him out as part of the security team waited for her to leave the table.
“Is there a problem?” She sounded a lot calmer than she felt. Jordan’s words
rang in her ears.
They’ll eat you alive.
She’d been thinking of the
other players, but it could equally apply to the people in charge.

“If you’ll come with me?”

Pushing her chair away from the table, she
stood up and reached for her chips.

“You can leave those here.”

That was when she really started to worry.
She’d won a good five times what she’d come with and he was telling her to
leave it all on the table? It didn’t bode well at all.

There was nothing she could do but follow
him out of the room. Her mind ran at double speed. Had Jordan arrived yet? Was
this part of his plan B?

They went back through to the entrance hall
and out along a corridor on the opposite side. It was quieter in this part of
the house. The peace did nothing to dispel her worry. “Have I done something
wrong?”

“Through here, madam.” He opened a door and
stood aside.

She looked at him, hoping for some
indication of what was going on. He gave nothing away. She had no option but to
step inside.

***

T
he most useful thing about shady outfits
like the one running the poker game was the abundance of disgruntled employees.
Jordan was a friendly guy with a lot of contacts in a lot of places. It wasn’t
too hard for him to find an in at the poker mansion. There was no other way for
him to make a discreet entrance. He definitely wasn’t in any state to go
climbing through windows, even if he’d somehow managed to track down a gap in
the security.

He was ushered in under cover of darkness
and pulled on his trusty balaclava. Ever since that day in the bank, he hadn’t
been able to put it on without thinking of his first kiss with Loretta. He
hoped it would bring him luck.

Following the directions he’d been given,
he limped down the corridor towards the game room as quickly as he could.
Outside the door, he took a breath and blew it out. The hole in his leg was
already catching fire again. After dry-swallowing a couple more pills, he
opened the door a crack and waited for someone suitable to walk by. It wasn’t
long before a woman with an elaborate hairdo and a very short skirt wandered
past.

He threw open the door, grabbed her and dug
his gun into her side. “Keep your mouth shut and you won’t get hurt.” She
gasped, but stayed quiet.

The painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet and
the throbbing from his leg was bringing up prickles of sweat under his mask. He
focused on the gun in his hand and pretended there was nothing wrong. The armed
robber couldn’t have a limp – it would be too easy for someone to put two and
two together.

Once he’d mastered the pain as much as
possible, he pulled his poor hostage down the corridor. He didn’t have time to
hang around and let someone stumble across what he was doing. The cashier was
supposed to be a couple of doors along. He burst in, taking advantage of the
element of surprise. The girl at the desk jumped and began to reach behind her.
The muscle standing in the corner did something similar.

Jordan put the gun to the woman’s temple.
It made him feel like scum, but there was no other way forward. “Hands where I
can see them,” he shouted.

The girl jumped again and did as she was
told. The guy was slower to act, but once he’d looked from Jordan to the woman
with the gun at her head, he decided to play along.

“Fill this.” He threw a bag on the table.
The girl took it and looked at her back-up.

“Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

She turned her eyes to the front.

“Fill the bag.”

Slowly at first, she started to load
bundles of cash into the bag.

This had to go smoothly. Running away was a
luxury that wasn’t available to him.

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“L
orraine, isn’t it?” The woman sitting in
the black leather chair crossed her legs in a way that struck Loretta as very
staged. Loretta nodded. This wasn’t a place for real names.

“How do you like my house?”

So this was the infamous Marcie Harmon. She
was just as petite as they said. Loretta could easily believe she was the
owner. Her short red dress looked as though it had cost some serious money and
she didn’t have a long dark hair out of place. And of course, there was the
requisite bulky bodyguard standing behind her left shoulder. “It’s beautiful.”
Where was she going with this?

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

“This is my first time.”
And last.

“I’m afraid there’s been an accusation of
cheating.”

Loretta’s heart raced. “I wasn’t cheating.”

“I’m afraid the dealer has corroborated
your accuser’s account of events.”

“What accuser? What am I supposed to have
done?” How could anyone corroborate anything when she hadn’t even been
cheating?

“I’m sure you appreciate this is a very
serious matter.”

“But I haven’t done anything!” She tried to
stay calm, to avoid inflaming the situation, but it was proving tricky to pull
off. The winnings she’d accumulated seemed so far out of reach. It was
completely unfair.

Loretta stopped herself from following that
train of thought too far – she should be more concerned about her safety. If
this woman suspected her of cheating in her poker game she hadn’t called her in
there for a cosy chat.

“What do you think I should do with you?”

“I wasn’t cheating. You can’t have any
proof, because it didn’t happen.”

Marcie glanced at her hired help. She gave
no special signal that Loretta was able to recognise, but the look raised him
from his spot in the corner. He moved silently and took up position beside
Loretta. Close enough to bring up a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

“In my line of business, I have to be very
careful when it comes to cheating.” She pulled open a desk drawer and brought
out a short, fat knife with a wicked serrated edge.

The goon grabbed Loretta’s wrist and
slammed her hand down on the table. She held a tight fist, but he unfurled each
finger one at a time and leaned down on the back of her hand. He used so much
force she was too worried he’d break something to try pulling away.

“This was my father’s.” Marcie dragged the
blade across the pad of her thumb and had to suck the wound when she drew
blood. “He used to take me hunting. He gave this to me when I killed my first
deer.”

The display could have come straight out of
a gangster film, but it had the desired effect – Loretta was struggling to keep
control of her bladder.

“Did you know that most gambling houses
won’t let you in if you have a finger missing?”

Loretta stared at her, fighting for breath.
“Please. I didn’t do anything.” She could already imagine the cold metal biting
into her flesh. “Please.”

“It’s quite common for cheaters to lose a
finger when they get caught, so most houses don’t like to take the risk on
someone without a full ten digits.” She got to her feet and dangled the knife
by its handle. “Not very fair on those who lost their fingers for some other
reason.” Placing the tip of the blade on the table, she trailed it across the
desk towards Loretta’s hand. “Sorry, I shouldn’t toy with you.” She lifted the
knife and shifted its grip in her palm. “I keep it very sharp so it should be a
good clean cut.”

Loretta closed her eyes, screwing them
tight shut. She couldn’t look.

Someone knocked at the door.

Loretta opened her eyes.

Irritation crossed Marcie’s face for the
briefest of moments, then she composed herself. “Yes?”

The door swung in and Jordan walked through
it wearing a dinner suit complete with black bow tie. Loretta’s eyes went to
the natty black walking stick he leaned on. He was limping. Why was he limping?

“Excuse me ladies, but I think you’ve both
been the victims of a thief.”

The bodyguard let go of Loretta, positioned
himself within striking distance of Jordan and made sure that everybody could
see his hand was now resting just inside his jacket.

Jordan took another step into the room and
closed the door. He held up his hands to signal he was unarmed. It wasn’t all
that easy to walk naturally with thousands of pounds taped to his body, but he
thought he was doing a pretty good job. And the limp hid a multitude of sins.

By the look of the blade Marcie was
holding, he’d got there just in time. He took advantage of the shocked silence
and carried on. “You’ve had reports that this lady’s been cheating, right?”

“Who the hell are you?” Marcie pointed at
him with the knife, her face rapidly approaching the colour of her dress. She
was a good four inches shorter than anyone in the room, but the anger that came
off her in waves made her more intimidating than her hired muscle.

“My name is Jordan Bernardino. I work for
Vito Ursino.”

“I don’t think he’ll be happy to hear you
disturbed me in my private office.” She threw the knife down on the table.

“I apologise for that. My intention wasn’t
to show you any disrespect. But I got the impression you were about to do
something hasty.”

Loretta stared at him. He could feel the
heat in her gaze, but he didn’t want to start Marcie thinking by looking back
at her. His leg was on fire again. It took all his concentration to keep
talking without gritting his teeth.

“Hasty?” She was a little less red in the
face, but she didn’t sound any happier.

“This young woman hasn’t been cheating.”

“Why should I take your word for that?”

He flashed a confident look at Loretta.
Could he really get away with this?

“Because one of your employees is about to
knock on your door to tell you there’s been a robbery. This story about the
cheating was just a diversion.”

The bodyguard put his hand to his ear,
listening to the voice in his earpiece. “The cashier’s just been robbed.”

He didn’t risk a glance at Loretta, he just
hoped she was putting her poker face to good use. Right about then, he would
have traded every penny he’d just stolen for the use of a chair. The stick was
a help, but he was leaning on it so hard it made his arm ache.

“Stay here.” Marcie made for the door.

Her caveman hung around to make sure they
did as they were told.

Loretta gave Jordan a lingering look full
of questions. As long as nobody thought to search him, he’d have plenty of time
to answer them all later. “Having a good night at the tables?” He couldn’t
quite hold down the grin that wanted to take over his face. It must have been
one part hysteria to two parts relief with a dash of chemically-induced
insanity.

She stared at him some more. “Pretty good.”

The bodyguard still had a grip on his gun.

Jordan was about to try talking his way out
of there when the door opened and Marcie Harmon walked back in.

“Can we go now?” It was a long shot, but
nobody ever got anywhere without trying.

She walked around the desk and settled
herself back in her chair. “How is it that you know so much about tonight’s
robbery, Mr...?”

There was no way she’d got to where she was
without being able to remember someone’s name first time, but he humoured her.
“Bernardino. I heard a few things.”

“Did you now? How do I know
you
didn’t steal the money?” As she stared him down, she looked more amused than
anything. She was probably hoping it was him. It would liven up her evening.

He limped forward and brandished his cane.
“I’m not at my cashier-robbing prime at the moment. And if I was the thief, why
would I come walking into your office and draw attention to myself?” He wobbled
and quickly put the stick back to the floor.

Marcie looked at Loretta. He didn’t do the
same.

“Perhaps you wanted to get your accomplice
off the hook. The limp could be an act.” She let the suggestion hang in the air
for a while. “Search him.”

Jordan bit back the impulse to protest – it
wouldn’t help.

“Wait,” Loretta piped up.

The muscle kept on going, but Marcie held
up her hand and he stopped.

“Who accused me of cheating?”

“I can’t disclose that information.”

“Fine, but think about it – isn’t that more
suspicious than anything I’ve done?”

Marcie cast her eye over them both,
weighing things over in her mind.

They were almost there. When he’d first
walked in, the threat of violence had been thick in the air. Now there was
little more than a low hum of menace. Marcie was getting tired of the
interruption to her evening. If what he’d heard about her was true, she’d be
itching to crack open a bottle and put the night to bed.

As if on cue, the throbbing pain of his
wound went up another fifty notches. He was sure he could feel blood trickling
down his leg. When reached in his pocket for a handkerchief, the bodyguard drew
his gun.

“Easy, easy.” He dabbed at his trousers and
the handkerchief came away red. He didn’t dare look over to see Loretta’s
reaction.

Marcie pulled a face at the bloody display.
“That looks nasty. Do you want someone to take a look at it?”

Not likely. He had a good few thousand
taped up under those trousers. “No. I’ll be fine.” He held the handkerchief
against his leg.

The combination of juggling the
handkerchief with his cane and trying to stay upright led to their inevitable
conclusion and Jordan tumbled over in a heap.

Loretta took a step towards him, then
stopped herself.

Jordan tried to get up, but the pain got
the better of him. As he was pulling himself into a sitting position, Marcie
came around the desk with her knife.

She got down on her knees beside him, all
amusement gone from her face. “You’d better not have got blood on my carpet.”
She brought the knife closer to his leg and he braced himself for a blow.

Marcie grabbed hold of the bottom of his
trouser leg and cut the fabric away from his skin.

He held still and she tore his trousers all
the way up to his thigh.

Thank god he hadn’t strapped any money to
his bad leg.

“That dressing’s soaked through.” She
nodded to her man and he fetched a first aid kit from a cupboard. “So you
weren’t faking, then,” she said as she pulled away the sodden pad and started
to clean him up. It was obviously a gunshot wound, but she didn’t comment on
it. “I’m surprised you could walk on that.” She looked him right in the eye and
he met her gaze. There was an iron toughness to her that was at least as
intimidating as Ursino.

“Me too.”

She wiped away the blood and put a clean
dressing on. “You’ll need more stitches.”

“I know.” He tried to stand and she helped
him up.

Marcie turned to Loretta. “I don’t know
what you did to get him in here with an injury like that.”

Loretta looked at the floor.

“Mr Bernardino, you’d better get out of
here while you can still limp.”

Jordan turned to leave. Loretta did too.

“Lorraine, wait a moment.”

He made his way out of the door with his
heart trying to climb out his body through his mouth. He couldn’t stay. They
weren’t supposed to know each other – though he suspected Marcie had seen
through that. He’d have to trust Loretta to handle herself.