Rose of Betrayal (27 page)

A guise of a smile
raised the corners of Brad's mouth, “I'm fine, sweetheart.
 
You are such a worrier, Maggie.
 
Now go on before I fire you.”

Maggie's hands shot
to her hips.
 
Giving Brad her naughty
child look, “You've fired me a hundred times before.”

Brad's smile widened,
“I believe it’s been two hundred and yet, you're still here.”

“Someone has to keep
you in line.”

“Yes mame and I know
you are the only one who can.
  
Now, get
to work before I'm tempted to give you another raise.”

CHAPTER 24

           
The
office door slamming caused Susan to flinch.
 
Raising her head, she was incognizant of parting lips and the pen
toppling from her fingers.
 
Descending
upon her filling her field of vision were four men cloaked in identical dark
gray pin stripped suits, their ties, hats and full-length overcoats,
black.
  
Their hands shoved into the
wells of their pockets and, considering it was a gloomy day in November, she
wondered why they wore sunglasses.
   
When they stopped in front of her, she did not recognize any of
them.
  
The only other conclusion they
were Sommer’s board members.
 

A glance beyond them said it was
eight fifty five A.M.

           
Unconsciously,
she rolled backward in her caster chair as the tall, ponderous man, with a
cigar dangling from his mouth moved closer to the desk.
 
Though he had removed his sunglasses, she
could barely see his eyes due to the shadow cast by the brim of his hat.
 

“We're here to see Mr. Sommer’s.”

 
Susan sat immobile, hypnotized as moments
escaped.

“Did you hear me,” he snapped.

His snarl made her eyelids
flicker.
 
Timidly she replied, “Yes, sir,
sorry, sir.
 
Who may I say is here?”

           
Dragging
hard on his cigar, leaning over her desk he purposely puffed smoke in her face,
“His board members.”
  
Turning toward his
companions his chuckle made them join in the merriment as if his humor was
their cue.
 
The moment he ceased, like
puppets, they did as well.

           
“Listen,
sweetness, there is no need to announce us.
 
You sit right there, powder your little nose and keep your pussy
warm.
 
We will let ourselves in.”
  
Giving a wink, he crossed the room and
brazenly opened Sommer’s office door. “It's about time you sent for us. It's
been a hell of a long time, old friend.
 
How the fuck, are you?”
 

Winking at Susan, like baby ducks
mimicking their mother, the men fell in line and entered Howard's office.
 
The last one closed the door with a loud
thud.
 

           
Chills
coated Susan's skin.
 
They all resembled
mobsters in a movie, fighting the dreadful feeling of impending doom inducing
stomach spasms she wondered if it was merely a figment of her imagination, or,
was it?
 
Curiosity, one of her
shortcomings, moved trembling fingers to the switch of the intercom hoping
Howard would not notice the tiny blinking light.
 

Meeting his visitors
half way, Howard exclaimed, “Fazone, it has been too long, my dear
friend.”
 
Shaking hands they kissed,
first one cheek then the other.
 
Returning to his plush leather chair Howard demanded, “Sit, gentlemen,
make yourself comfortable.”

           
Fazone
positioned himself in a chair in front of Howard's desk, his associates
surrounding him.
 
Smiling fiendishly,
“Howard, do you remember Hank, Henry, and Harry?”

“Christ yes.
 
How could I forget?”

The foursome exchanged nods and
grins.

Withdrawing a cigar from his pocket,
Fazone handed it to Howard.
 
“For old
times’ sake.”
 
There was a long pause
before adding, “So what's up?
 
Got
another job for us?”

           
Leaning
back in his chair, Howard removed the wrapping from the Cheroot, lit it, and
sucked the end until a gray cloud swirled above his head.
 
“I have a deal that might go up in
smoke.
 
If it does, my business goes with
it.
 
Naturally, I am not about to let
that happen.
 
Toying with the cigar with
his chunky fingers, he continued, “A couple of young, punk exec's think they
have me by the balls.
 
They think they're
better than me, smarter.”

“You want me to knock
em
off, boss?”

           
Howard's
eyes twinkled with roguery.
 
“It's a strong
possibility, but first, I want them by their nuts.
  
I want to see them squirm.
 
It will be easy to convince the one handling
the deal to cough up.
 
He’s weak and has
the most to lose.
 
His partner, well,
that is another story.
 
He's a cocky son
of a bitch who hasn't learned to respect his elders.”
 

“What's in it for me, friend,” Fazone
queried.

Reaching into a drawer, Howard
retrieved a thick envelope and tossed it to his guest.

Opening it, amazement
glittering in hawk like eyes, Fazone fanned the cluster of greenbacks with his
thumb.
 
“You name it and you've got it.”

“I thought so,”
Howard beamed. “I want them watched, every move they make, every person they
know, what they eat and when, who they're screwing, each time they shit.
 
Got it?”

Tipping his hat,
Fazone stood, “What’s their names, and when do we start?”

           
“Right now.
 
All the information is in the envelope.
 
I do not want you coming here again.
 
We can't trust anyone, especially the
bleached blonde bitch out front.
 
She's a
typical nosey broad.
 
Call me late in the
evening at home only if it's an emergency.
 
Use the name
Rydell
.”

Firming up the deal
with a handshake, “Whatever you say, boss.
 
By the way, does that filly out there give a good ride?”

“She's a tight piece
of ass, if that's what you mean.
 
You do
right by me and I'll let you try her out.”
 
Both cackled in unison.

           
Heading for the door his puppets in
his wake, Fazone tossed words over his shoulder, “I'm looking forward to
it.
 
Glad to hear you haven't lost your
touch, my friend.
 
Be sure to keep her
warm for me.”
  

           
Quivering caused Susan's thoughts to
collide, that bastard, bleach blonde bitch, huh, so, Sommer’s thinks he owns
me, does he. Thinks he'll pass me around to his thuds.
 
Well, blonde-haired woman doesn't always mean
dumb.
 

           
Goose bumps covered her skin.
 
Would Sommer’s really have someone
killed?
 
Though terrified by the thought,
she realized she was in an excellent position to find out Howard's prey in time
to warn them.
 
Pay back was a bitch.
 
Clicking the intercom switch off, she
solidified just as the door opened to expel the male group advancing toward
her.

Flicking the brim of
his hat as he paraded to the door, Fazone said, “I'll be back, dumpling.
 
You and I are going for a little ride,
baby.”
 
Wide lips blew Susan a parting
kiss.

           
Wearing an evil grin, the last man
with the pock marked face waltzing past Susan slammed his fist on her metal
desk.
 
“And I'm opting for seconds.”

Revolted, Susan
cowered.

Sommer’s now stood in
his office door way. “Get in here now, sweet cakes.
 
You will not need your pad and pen.”

Obediently she
entered.
 
As she sauntered passed him his
fingers painfully squeezed her buttocks. “What time is my next
appointment?”
 

Thinking quickly, she
shook off her fear and smiled sweetly, “In fifteen minutes, Howard darling.”

“That's plenty of
time,” he snorted closing the door and fastening the lock.

           
Composing herself would be of prime
importance if she were to retain her job long enough to compile evidence
against this bastard and his goons.
  
Until then, she would let him use her body, acquire sufficient money for
a nest egg, then make him pay dearly for his abusiveness.
 
She only prayed it would not take long.
  

CHAPTER 25

“NOVEMBER, 2010”

           
 
Keller was a prominent client Brad dealt with
effectively numerous times over the years, their business partnership fruitful
to the tune of millions in both bank accounts.
 
Though Brad detested black tie affairs, Keller would expect him to
attend his gala as he dutifully had every year.
 
Besides, Keller was not just a business associate but also, a dear
friend.

           
Reluctantly,
Brad agreed to present Keller with the Sommer’s proposal.
 
An added enticement, it offered the
opportunity to spend time at his sprawling home in Southampton five miles from
Keller's mansion.

           
Clouds
obscured the sun.
 
Mist dampened the
air.
 
On a one hundred percent
certifiable gloomy day in May, five years previous, Brad sporadically dashed
from his office.
 
He had an overpowering
craving to get away from the burdening pressures of a booming business, and the
shackles of New York City.
 
Where he
would wind up was immaterial.

           
On
an unfamiliar road in Southampton, a baby rabbit barely missed death beneath
the black legs of a red monster squealing to a halt just in time.
  
Charging across a carpet of rich, green
grass the rabbit paused in front of a sizable For Sale sign as if sneering
back.
  
The sky had become lucid causing
slanting threads of sun to filter through the leaves of scattered, mature,
well-groomed trees casting alluring shadows on a structure in the
background.
  
Curious, Brad turned onto
the curved, narrow driveway ending at the portal of a breathtaking contemporary
cedar two- story house.
         

           
Fate
sent him there, he believed, while examining the luxuriant property.
 
Birds chirped a welcoming tune as he
circuited the grounds, feet sinking into a well-manicured thick carpet of
grass.
 
An enormous deck stretching the
length of the building circled to the rear of the dwelling.
 

           
In
a corner was a Gazebo over-looking a sizeable fabricated pond, in the center a
fountain spurting its babbling song.
 
Circumscribing the pond were meticulously pruned evergreens, numerous
ornamental trees, rose bushes and tilled beds of soil hoping for summer
flowers.
  
Two benches awaited visitors
who might take the notion to pause and enjoy the work of art.
  

           
 
The back of the house totally constructed of
glass drew Brad’s attention.
  
Like a
prowler, he climbed the stairs hoping to scrutinize the interior.
 
Inside were sparkling oak floors, a spiral
staircase, an open balcony presumably leading to bedrooms, and an enormous
stone fireplace taking center stage in a substantial living area.
 
Cedar cathedral ceilings had skylights in all
the exemplary places.
 
The architect
designed an open floor plan allowing rooms to flow into one another, void of
unnecessary partitions that would hinder the extravagant panorama.