Indulgence (320 page)

Little Shannon was keeping the boys around the stage busy.
She was down to her panties, her kilt and small white schoolgirl blouse
discarded on the stage. She swung her long legs around the brass pole, turning,
writhing and riding it with her thighs, leaning backwards air-kissing the men
closest to the stage.

Not that Carlos was watching. He hadn’t taken his eyes off
Gina, and it made her skin crawl.

Sam leaned into the side of her head, carefully. “You’ve
drawn the right kind of attention, G-spot.”

Gina’s loathing for the situation flared into anger. “Keep your
fuckin’ distance or I’ll have him call the cops.” She shot a glance to Devon as
if to say, ‘
What were you thinking?’

The reference to calling the cops was supposed to be the
safe signal, but only used in a blown operation. The group got quiet. The bartender
spoke up.

“You boys want something, or are you just gonna ogle the
customers for free?”

“Yeah, I’m not on stage yet,” Mia turned around, leaning
back, to make the most of her lush breasts temptingly exposed by a
mostly-unbuttoned black satin blouse. The boys responded appropriately, giving
Mia the reaction she wanted. Sam whistled as he brushed past Gina, making sure
that they had a thigh-on-thigh experience on his way to snaking an arm around
Mia’s waist.

He thinks he owns me.
She had fallen really hard for
him, and fast. That was the part that hurt the most. She’d thrown caution to
the wind. No questions, just a couple of nibbling kisses, and
wham
, she
couldn’t wait to get naked with him. And because he was a cop, she’d thought
she could trust him.

Mia was cooing and enjoying the attention of four really big
leather-clad guys. Gina noticed the long looks she gave the corner, like giving
the gang the finger. Mia was going to be a big problem when she found out the
guys she was getting cozy with were cops.

Little Shannon was really working her buttock muscles,
shaking them faster than Gina thought was humanly possible. The dancer backed
up closer to the face of one of the front row crowd and Gina felt herself
shudder again. The gentleman had his forefinger rubbing up and down Shannon’s
rear, as he inserted dollar bills in the lacy string that held her panties
together. When the supply of bills dried up, she moved on to the next customer,
revealing a little more each time, letting the customers get a little closer,
touch a little more inappropriately.

Gina wondered what it would feel like to do that onstage for
strange men. Could she do it if it was required? For the good of the mission?
She decided the answer was a definite
no.
What difference would it make
if you debased yourself for a paycheck from the Department or from a bar?

It was still wrong.

Navy SEAL Armando Guzman was surprised his sister, Mia, was
not answering her phone. That meant she’d lied to him again. Her ‘evening at
home with a girlfriend’ meant a trip to a local bar hanging out with the wrong
crowd.

So much for the surprise dinner.
He liked to be
impromptu with Mia, despite the fact that she accused him of spying on her.
Well, yes…that was partially true.

Fredo was his constant companion these days, ever since
Fredo’s best friend, SO Calvin Cooper, had gotten himself involved and married
to a cute little thing from San Diego. Libby had
encouraged
Cooper to
find larger digs, rather than cramming them both into the Babemobile Coop had
lived in down by the beach for the past three years. So they were currently
house-hunting with the help of his team leader’s wife, Christy Lansdowne, who
was the Realtor for all the Team guys these days.

Armando also knew Fredo liked to hang out with him because
the Mexican SEAL had the hots for his sister. At first, this had seemed like a
bad idea, but Mia’s terminal case of bad judgment kept escalating. Even Armando
didn’t think she could go wrong with any one of his Team buddies, but he’d never
let on he felt this way. It was sport, needling Fredo to death at every
opportunity, since Mia would have nothing to do with him. And the more she
rejected him, the harder Fredo tried.

Gotta hand it to him. He’s persistent.
Fredo’s short
stature and powerful arms made him the best on the Team in wrestling. In fact,
Armando couldn’t remember a match the man had ever lost. The Mexican SEAL’s
prominent forehead, ruddy complexion and infamous unibrow did not, however,
make him a favorite of the ladies.

“That’s just not something a man should ever do, have his
eyebrows tweezed,” he’d told Armando that evening when they’d discussed his
lack of love life. Although not as good-looking as some of his buds, Fredo had
a heart the size of the ocean they had to swim in on a daily basis. Armando had
never had a problem attracting women. Girls lined up for him ever since he was
in junior high.

The pair drove to Mia’s house to confirm what Armando
feared. Fredo dove from Armando’s Hummer, ran to the garage at the end of a concrete
driveway, and quickly returned. “Her car’s not in the garage, Armani.”

“Let’s take the groceries in so they don’t get warm,”
Armando said. They’d stopped by the store they called
Whole Wallet
to
get some organic steaks and salad fixings to make a meal he knew she wouldn’t
prepare for herself. Armando halfway hoped Mia had invited her cute friend Gina
over. They’d have some wine, sit out on the patio, and watch the stars come out
on this beautiful spring evening in San Diego.

“Where’s the kid?”

“I’m guessing my mom’s.”

Armando had bought the house for Mia recently. He’d also
helped her fix up the two-bedroom stucco bungalow into a sweet little home for
her and her baby. Mama Guzman had planted flowers that were just now beginning
to bloom. They wouldn’t match the psychedelic colors covering Mama Guzman’s
yard, but, given time, Mia’s house would have a jungle in front of it, or their
mother would die trying.

Buying the house for Mia had given Armando the right to a
key, or so he’d told his Team. He promised never to barge in on her when she
was entertaining, but tonight was different. She’d gone out of her way to say
she wasn’t entertaining a man, and Armando thought some face time with his
tempestuous sister was warranted.

As soon as they stepped into the living room, Armando
smelled pot. “Shit.”

“Whoa. Can’t believe it.” Fredo said, shaking his head.
“That’s a fuckin’ shame.”

“What kind of a mother smokes around her son?” Armando
swore.

“Armani, that girl’s got some demons. Wish she’d choose me.
I’d exorcise those spirits, love them right outta her.”

Fredo got a sock to the arm that made the bottom of his bag
drop out and the salad mix fall to the floor. Luckily the greens remained
encased their plastic bags.

“I know you have the best of intentions, but she’s my
sister, Fredo.” Armando was more worried for his sister’s state of mind than he
liked to show.

“I feel you,” Fredo began. “But while I’m waiting here,
holding my dick and trying to be all proper, she’s doing the down and dirty
with half the scum of San Diego. And the only reason she’s not with Caesar is
that he took that little detour to San Quentin.”

Armando pushed Fredo onto the couch. “That’s enough. Shut
the fuck up or I’ll leave you right here.” It didn’t make sense she’d want to
go back to that dickwad.

Some day you’re gonna tell me, sis. Who hurt you?
If
he could just find out what the problem was, Armando was sure he could cure her
of—whatever. It was unacceptable that any sister of his would be throwing her
life away like this.

“I’ll happily stay here, Armani. You go chase around and
look for her. She’ll come home eventually.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“So ‘splain this to me. You save her life and the life of
her baby. You buy her a fuckin’ great house in a good area, you buy her
furniture, and you help your mama, too. And she disses you like this? I’m
telling you, those demons is not only gettin’ bigger, they’re having babies.
What’s next?”

“What’s next is I’m gonna find her, bring her home, and cook
her a fuckin’ steak. And you’re gonna be a perfect gentleman, hear?”

“Yessir. I get you.”

After storing the perishables, Armando and Fredo stopped by
Fredo’s apartment to pick up his Parks Department four-door beater truck. No
sense exposing Armando’s black Hummer to the neighborhood where they’d probably
find Mia.

Armando slid onto the torn leather bench seat and examined
the contents of the cab behind him. The floor was nearly ankle-high with fast
food wrappers and old milkshake and soda containers.

“Some super sleuth you’d make,” Armando said, holding his
nose. “All anyone would have to do is sort through all your wrappers and
receipts. They could re-create your whereabouts 24/7.”

Fredo rolled his shoulders and jutted out his chin. “Just
because you got an obsessive compulsive disorder for specks of dirt, don’t mean
you have to insult a normal male with normal eating habits.” Fredo didn’t look
back at him.

“That’s not normal,” Armando said with a thumb pointing over
his shoulder.

They rounded a corner and the noise of displaced paper cups,
balled-up bags and wrappers was unmistakable.

Fredo put on the brakes and nearly was rear-ended. “You
wanna walk? You’re usin’ my petrol for your own devious little plan. I’m just
along to make sure you don’t get your ass busted.”

Armando started to open the door and Fredo grabbed his
shoulder. “Get the fuck back in the truck, Armani. I’m just messin’ with you.”

“Okay, then shut the fuck up.” They rode in silence for a
few minutes. Armando was twirling the comment Fredo had made over and over in
his brain. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Obsessive compulsive?” he
demanded.

“No shit, Sherlock. Like you have to put plastic down on the
couch yesterday before I could sit down.”

“That’s because you were working out before you came over.
You were sweaty, man.”

“Yea, well, don’t you get sweaty balling all those coeds on
your couch? You think I mind if I sit my ass down on some teenage cum?”

“They’re not teenagers. You know that.”

Fredo humphed. The silence continued. Then Fredo spoke up.
“I clean my truck on the first of every month, and always before deployment.”

“That’s a very good thing. No telling what could grow in the
back seat in six months unattended. Might have to have a HazMat clearance.”

“That’s Coop’s problem, with all that Kambucha he drinks. I
think it’s disgusting to drink fungus piss.”

“Well, hell’s bells. We finally agree on something.” Armando
smiled at his Mexican friend and found Fredo chuckling as well.

They looked like a couple of guys looking to find some
action as they cruised down across the tracks towards a run-down commercial
district in one of the seedier parts of town. Fredo’s truck was barely still
green, it was so thoroughly covered with rust and scrapes. But everyone on SEAL
Team 3 knew underneath the front seat was a container welded to the frame that
could hold enough firepower to start a war in a small country. Normally there
would be duty bags with special demo equipment and ammunition tossed on the
second seat behind them. Tonight they were traveling light. Anyone who tried to
mess with the box underneath the seat would be met with an electric charge
strong enough to send him to the hospital, courtesy of Fredo’s best friend, SO
Calvin Cooper.

Armando easily spotted Mia’s white Nissan glowing in the
moonlight. He grimaced when he saw it was parked haphazardly, one wheel up on
the curb. A variety of older cars and a few tricked-out, lowered ones with
blackened windows dotted the nearly deserted alleyway. Fredo found a parking
space nearby. A dark cat darted across the street and disappeared on the other
side.

“Bet you bought her that car too, huh?” Fredo said.

Armando ignored him as he looked in the doorways of several
clubs and saw women and an odd assortment of men lingering there. A string of
Harleys that was way too nice for the neighborhood stood to attention right
outside one particular bar. Armando thought if there was any kind of action at
all, his sister would go for the bikers before the bangers.

Fredo continued, “You ever think that, like, maybe Mia
doesn’t want you going around interfering with her life? She’s had that
conversation with you, I know.”

“Did that ever stop
you
?”

Fredo shook his head. “Not the same thing, Armani. I don’t
go check up on whom she’s goin’ out with. But I would, if you gave me—”

“That’s not going to happen, Fredo. Mia’s my
responsibility.”

“Except…what if you’re pushing her away? You can’t lead a
horse to water.”

“Depends on how fucking big the horse is.”

Fredo laughed. Armando felt good having his Team buddy at
his side, and giving him shit was part of the fun. They crossed the street and
walked towards the entrance of Babes.

Guttural saxophone music blared from the pink wash of light
spilling out from the opened doorway of the bar. A big guy with more exposed
tats than bare skin was there to collect their ten bucks.

He saw the pink flash of a girl’s rear end on stage just
before the stage lights went out. The house lights came on, but it didn’t help
much. He eyed the skinny gang members congregated at the stage, noticing that
several of them were weaving and glassy-eyed. At the counter, a bevy of beefy
guys dressed in black were hovering around someone seated there. Armando had a
sickening feeling that someone was his sister.

Fredo stepped in front of him. “Don’t be stupid, Armani. I’m
not into getting the shit kicked out of me tonight.”

Armando noted that every single one of the guys behind Fredo
outweighed him by more than forty pounds. They also were about a foot taller
than Fredo. But Armando would take them on any day with one of his teammates on
hand to back him, regardless of the size or weight difference.