The King and the Courtesan (15 page)

“I never said he was a good person. I doubt he has much of a conscience. He saw an opportunity to make a lot of money and took it, which I’m sure many in Metro would do if they had the means.”

“Who cares if someone else in Metro would do it? The problem is that
he’s
doing it, and
he’s
a psychopath.”

“If you aren’t buying drugs and you don’t sell his secrets, you’re safe from him. I’ve worked for him long enough to know that.”

“You’re his bodyguard, not his hired companion.”

I winced, but Rosa didn’t seem to notice.

“Once you bring sex and love into the equation, you’re in a whole new arena. A bodyguard is one thing. But Ezekiel feels differently about Melissa. He may not be paranoid, but he may get jealous. Never underestimate the dark depths of a man’s jealousy. Men do all kinds of terrible shit to the women they think they own.”

“I’m sure Ezekiel doesn’t think he owns her. Melissa, hasn’t he told you that you can leave at any time?”

This argument sounded very close to winding out of control, so I watched my words carefully. “Yes.”

“See? He has laid down the parameters of the job, and if Melissa doesn’t like them, she can always leave.”

I nodded in agreement, but I wasn’t sure. Ezekiel said I could walk away from that date on the yacht, but he hadn’t mentioned the arrangement since.
Could
I walk away? Even after he’d bought me so many expensive toys? I didn’t like to think about it.

Rosa frowned. “Roger, let’s just say I understand the mindset of violent men a bit more than you do.”

“I understand
Ezekiel
better than you do.”

“Well, from what
I’ve
seen, Melissa is a trinket to him, something pretty to show off to make him feel powerful. Why else would he bring her out here to do
business?
And why would he bring me to take care of her appearance?”

“Can you both stop talking about me like I’m not here? You can all gossip about Ezekiel as much as you like, but I can take care of myself and I don’t need anyone’s protection.” At this, I gave Rosa a pointed look, and she turned away. “Let’s all agree we don’t understand Ezekiel as much as we’d like to and leave it at that.”

“All right,” Roger muttered.

Rosa reached across the table and patted my hand. “Of course, honey.”

I didn’t care for the sympathy I saw in Rosa’s eyes, as if I were some sorry soul in need of rescue. I pulled my hand away as discreetly as possible and smiled in hopes she wouldn’t take offense.

The food came, and while I didn’t consider it worth the price on the menu, it was good enough as long as I ignored all the strangely colored specks in it. Roger looked plenty content to eat what was given to him, but Rosa picked around a lot, looking unsatisfied.

“So, Roger, if you’re her bodyguard, that means she’s in some sort of danger.”

“Not really. Just a precaution. Like…how many planes crash in a year compared to how many fly every day? And yet you always have to listen to those stupid safety talks at the beginning of each one. It’s a precaution.”

“But
why
? So Melissa
is
in danger?”

“Ezekiel’s looking out for her, that’s all. If it would make you happier, he has guards for everything—his garage, his house, his warehouses abroad. Doesn’t mean anyone’s going to attempt to steal his Lantacher—”

“He has a
Lantacher
?” I asked incredulously. Selling a Lantacher sports car could probably buy me a whole apartment complex in Metro, perhaps even two.

“Well, yeah. He rarely drives it. I think he keeps it for special occasions.”

“Damn,” Rosa muttered, shaking her head. “Does anyone really know how much Ezekiel is worth?”

“Never asked him,” Roger said with a smirk. “Though you’re free to, if you’d like.”

“How’d he make it all? I mean,
drugs
, obviously, but how do you even get started in that business?”

“Just how you get started in every other business: you make your way from the bottom to the top,” Roger replied.

“Wonder what he was like at the bottom,” I couldn’t help wondering.

“That seems to be a secret of his, so I doubt his life started out pleasant. Bruce and Garrett have that in common. I know both of them are ex-cons.”

“Lovely. Do you have a violent past, too?” Rosa asked.

Roger shook his head. “My past is none of your business.”

“No ghosts in the closet?”

Roger ran a hand along the nape of his neck, then shrugged. “Eh, maybe a few.”

“That’s why Ezekiel hired us,” I said softly. “For our ghosts.”

* * *

Ezekiel told Roger to stay home that night because he was taking me out. I would have rather spent the night with Roger, watching TV and eating popcorn like slobs, but I didn’t dare admit that. Instead I slipped into the dress provided for me, let Rosa straighten my hair and do my makeup, and showed up at the entrance to the hotel with five minutes to spare. Thanks to a hit I’d taken that afternoon, I felt calm and more confident than usual.

The lights danced across the waxed exterior of the limo, sliding along its skin like droplets of water when it moved. Ezekiel emerged from the backseat, dressed to match his black vehicle, expression and suit both wrinkle-free and flawless. He gave me a small smile.

“Come, Melissa. We have a schedule to keep.”

I took his hand, and he guided me into the limo, which was full of custom leather and dim lighting. Ezekiel sat down beside me, reaching for the champagne with one hand while letting the other rest on my bare thigh.

“Would you like a glass?” he asked, turning that sharp blue gaze on me.

“Yes, please.”

“You look unsure about this excursion.” Ezekiel poured me a glass as the limo rolled away. I couldn’t see Bruce or Garrett in the vicinity, but there was a black barrier keeping the driver a secret from us. They could be in the front seats.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“Is it another fight club?”

“Of course not. This is for
your
entertainment.”

“So it’s not dangerous.”

Ezekiel scoffed. “No, not at all.”

That didn’t help my nerves much, but at least I knew Ezekiel was telling the truth. He hadn’t lied to me yet.

We ended up going to a circus of sorts, but not the kind with bears riding scooters around in a circle. Judging by the dress and breed of those in the audience, this circus was of an artsy variety, mostly contortionists, trapeze performers, and horse trainers. There were no funny clowns, no dogs in tutus, no elephants standing on big balls. Instead the acts consisted of soft classical music and feats of flexibility and athleticism. Most of the contortionists wore little more than tiny pieces of cloth over their genitals; the rest of their bodies were coated in gold glitter and elaborate paintings.

With the elegant lighting, breathtaking costumes, and astonishing talent, I was left in awe throughout the entire performance. I felt Ezekiel watching me a few times, but if I forgot he was there, I enjoyed myself. When the show ended with explosions of sparkles and crashing drums, I jumped to my feet to applaud like everyone else around me.

“I take it you liked it?” Ezekiel asked as we headed for the exit.

“Very much. Thank you.” I blushed, because I wasn’t used to thanking Ezekiel. We had a business arrangement, and neither one was expected to show any gratitude.

Bruce, who had lingered in the shadows all evening, stepped up to Ezekiel and whispered something in his ear. Ezekiel’s eyes flashed, and his amiable expression molded instantly into a fierce scowl.

“
What
?” he growled.

“He leaves tonight. You’d best catch him now.”

Ezekiel muttered something under his breath. He took my arm in a firm grip.

“I’m sorry to spoil the mood of the evening, Melissa, but I have someone I need to catch.”

With that, we headed to the limo at a fast walk, ducking inside moments before the car squealed away to a mystery destination.

“He’ll be expecting you,” Bruce murmured, now sitting across from us in the limo. I stared at him as he yanked a rather large pistol out of his jacket, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

“I know.” Ezekiel’s face was dark, his eyes narrowed, his brow low. I was getting my first look at the drug lord beneath the gentleman’s mask. He’d been cordial and polite until now, and even during sex had been somewhat reserved. But this was another side of him, a violent and focused side.

“What about her?” Bruce motioned toward me, not looking in my direction. As if I weren’t there.

“Call Roger. Have him pick her up at—”

Bruce interrupted him. “We have a tail.”

I twisted around to look, but Ezekiel grabbed my arm in a death grip. I quickly turned back, my heart in my throat. “Oh, really?”

“Can’t let her out now.”

“So that’s the game he’s going to play, hmm?”

Ezekiel crouched, half-standing as he made his way to what looked like a panel of buttons beside the bar. After he typed in a few numbers, the safe clicked and the door swung open. I gulped at the collection of weapons inside. Ezekiel snatched two pistols, one silver and one black, and slipped both under his jacket.

“They’ll disarm you,” Bruce murmured.

Ezekiel also pulled out a knife, its blade encased in a leather slip. He reached down and slid it into his shoe.

“I’ll have to be clever then, won’t I?” Ezekiel shut the door and sank back down. He turned to me. “I apologize for this. I would have liked to return you to the hotel. However, circumstances have forced me to do otherwise. Whatever happens, you stay close to Garrett and Bruce, do you understand?”

I nodded dumbly, really wishing Roger were here. Roger actually seemed to care whether I lived or died. Judging by the indifferent stare Bruce turned toward me, he would sacrifice me to save his own hind end.

I surreptitiously glanced over my shoulder. A pair of headlights blazed behind us, driving too close for comfort.

“Call Roger. Tell him the circumstances. He’ll know what to do.”

Bruce nodded and raised a hand to his earpiece.

“Ezekiel,” I whispered, trying not to shake in fear.

“What is it?”

“What is going on? I—how dangerous—will—”

“Don’t worry.” His eyes met mine in utter seriousness. “You won’t be harmed.”

“But what is all this? What’s going on?”

“I think ignorance is the best way to go about this. Here.” Ezekiel handed me another knife, also fitted with a leather case around the blade and smaller than the one he’d put in his shoe. “Tuck this somewhere and don’t use it unless you absolutely must.”

Gulping, I took the knife. It was heavy and cold in my hand. It reminded me of the time I stabbed a man with a pair of scissors to get him off of me. He’d tried to get a second trick for free. He might have forgone that if he’d predicted I’d shove scissors into his side. I barely made it out alive that night—hence why I wasn’t fond of sharp objects.

Ezekiel touched my face, more gently than I expected. “Melissa, I mean it. I know what I’m doing.”

I tried to trust him.

The limo slowed and turned into an alley. Immediately my hackles rose. Goddess alleys were eerily similar to those in Metro—they contained trash, darkness, graffiti, and probably someone looking to shoot you in the head. When the limo door opened, I nearly threw my arms around Ezekiel in terror. No. Not into the alley. We were safe in the car. We weren’t safe out there.

When I got out, I saw that our tail had pulled in behind us. Two men in black had emerged, pulling on gloves while carrying guns. I backed away, right into a thick chest. Squeaking, I whipped around. Garrett was staring down at me. For some reason, he scared me just as much as the guys across from us did.

Bruce stepped out of the limo, then Ezekiel. Ezekiel looked as if he were meeting old chums at a café, even smiling slightly with utter confidence. He was smaller than his bodyguards, but he was much fiercer, a man without fear or conscience. Blade, with his tattoos, gold-capped teeth, and flying fists, would be a child with a temper next to Ezekiel, who was dressed like a CEO with not a hair out of place.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Ezekiel greeted amiably. “I suppose you’d like to discuss business.”

The men were now pointing guns at us with the ease of those who regularly used them. My stomach crawled up into my throat, and I found it difficult to breathe. I wanted to hold onto something, someone, but no one reached out for me. I felt particularly vulnerable in my six-inch pumps and black mini dress because both would make it hard to bolt if I had to.

“Put down your weapons,” one of the men growled. “You’re surrounded.”

Ezekiel casually turned around, as did I. There was another car rolling down the alley, and someone’s torso poked out of the sunroof, pointing more guns at us.

“It would seem so.” Ezekiel threw his gun down.

“All of them,” another man snapped. “We’ll be frisking you to make sure, so don’t pull anything.”

Ezekiel shrugged and raised his arms. “Search as you like.”

The men were cautious to approach, but Ezekiel was compliant and silent as they frisked him. I tensed when a man grabbed my arm and pushed me against the limo. I let out a small cry at the roughness of his shove, resisting the urge to reach out for Ezekiel’s assistance. Ezekiel just glanced at me over his shoulder, his face as smooth as always. His eyes said something, though, and I believed he was ordering me to calm down. I swallowed another cry and tried not to recoil as the man’s hands skimmed over my body. I couldn’t remember them being this thorough with Ezekiel, and when his hands fell across my boobs, I tried shoving him off of me.

“You sick
creep
,” I growled, and he slapped me. I didn’t cry out, though. I felt like I had to prove something to Ezekiel. If he was going to be a blank-faced hard-ass, then maybe I could attempt my best impression.

“Leave her alone,” Ezekiel said, though his voice was neither urgent nor indignant, as if he were discussing the weather. “Do you really think she has much room to hide something in that dress?”