Chapter 11
11
C ALLAN
Men have power.
And women have power.
When we all use it, it’s a magnificent thing to watch.
She might not be conscious of it, but it’s in her.
In her eyes and hair and skin.
It’s simmering under the surface, a dragon waiting to spit fire.
A smile sits on my lips all the way to Carmen’s apartment.
I can’t wipe it off as I’m thinking about Mackenzie’s reaction.It’s like I put a spell on her when I pressed my lips to hers.
I’m not gonna lie. It felt amazing.
The way she quivered.
The glowing surprise on her face.
Her humbleness.
My power over her.
Over her mind.
And her body.
Power is my fuel of choice. My philosophy of life.
It drives me and has made me rich and feared by other people. It put women in my bed.
As much as it’s addictive, at times, power is a fickle mistress, and getting high on it can turn into a struggle.
Sometimes, you’ll be surprised by what can trigger you and make you feel like the entire world has bowed to you again.
Mackenzie.
The woman has truly gotten under my skin, and that’s her power.
There’s nothing wrong with playing with her a little.
Help her have wet dreams about me. Make her feel pleasure by simply thinking about me.
Was I hard as fuck when I told her to shave her pretty pussy?You bet I was.I’m not such a charitable person, so, for the most part, my words were self-serving. I could’ve told her more, but I didn’t want to scare her off.
The last few stairs bring me to Carmen’s apartment, and finally, the prospect of chasing down some thugs wipes off my smile.
As much as I hate to push the thought of Mackenzie to the back of my mind and focus on the party, I do just that and pull on a mask of cold indifference.
Hopefully, I look like someone looking for fun.
For sure, I’m searching for a lead on the identity of the man or the woman plotting against me.
Having fun won’t happen here tonight.
It hasn’t happened here since I stumbled onto Carmen’s neighbor that fateful night, and it had nothing to do with Mackenzie.
It would’ve happened anyway.
For all I know, Carmen might be tasked with taking me out.Daniela stole from me. Why wouldn’t Carmen do something just as bad?
So, whoever pulls the strings knows where I am and what I’m up to.
Only their minions are in the dark. Carmen. Her husband. And even Ricardo Alvarez.
Their boss knows I’m partying with these people while searching for what’s been stolen from me.
It’s all done in purpose.
I’m not hiding.
It is a game, isn’t it?
They want to know my next move, while I want to see how long it takes them to become impatient and make mistakes, creating an opportunity for me to strike back.
I stop in front of the door and listen.
It’s a rowdy crowd inside, and I’m surprised no one has called the police.
I slide my coat off, run my fingers through my hair, and push the door open before letting my eyes coast over the guests.
Wearing a red dress and sexy heels, Carmen glances over her shoulder and quickly notices me.
It’s like she has expected me to arrive just about now.
What do I know?
She might have her own informants. I never confirmed with her that I’d be here.
Her eyes flicker with delight.
“Charlie??” she says, all excited.
I thought it was only fitting to use a fake name.
This way, if anyone talked after getting some information about the heist and my real name from their boss––which is rather unlikely––I could follow that lead and find out who was hiding in the shadows.
I went over a long list of people who could’ve devised this ploy to taunt me and send me on a wild goose chase.
Enemies.
Business partners.
Newcomers.
Rookies who didn’t know any better.
Alistair and I checked every name, but nothing fit the context.From a mistake I made to a heist executed rather clumsily by a beautiful woman, to her douchebag lover––Carmen’s husband––and now Carmen, who seems to be in cahoots with all sorts of people, we’ve seen this story changing in so many ways.
Unfolding, unraveling, and offering new leads before eventually remaining a big puzzle that still needs to be solved as much as the necklace needs to be found.
The woman puts her best smile on as she twirls around and inches closer to me, welcoming me with open arms.
Men and women shift their focus to us. I don’t know any of them, as our worlds don’t overlap.
One of the things I learned from my father and the entire reason we have built a business empire was to hide our secret lives. Bury our crimes so deep that no one could guess who we were and what we were doing.
His intentions of pulling us out of a life of crime were honorable and genuine, but his death has proved to us that life isn’t always about what we want.
As much as we’ve tried to keep our family name clean, avoid the long arm of the law, and stay out of any conflicts, we couldn’t prevent every danger from coming our way.
To regular people, we’re still upstanding citizens who pay taxes and make donations to worthwhile causes, but underneath that veneer, dark poison drips.
And some of that poison has brought some unsavory character to our door.
It’s just that I still don’t know who that person is.
“Carmen…” I murmur, half cordial and half cold. “How are things?” I toss at her in a curt voice while she runs an inquiring gaze over my face.
Like any woman who had spent a lot of time in bed with different men, she developed a gift for reading people. Men in particular. She can tell with maximum precision whether I’m bothered by a thought, aroused by the idea of fucking her, or simply eager to get out.
I put a friendly mask on my face as she’s having mixed feelings about me.
Her studying me prolongs while I tilt my chin toward the group of people.
“Who’re they?” I say, and her smile gets a boost of confidence.
She loops her arm through mine and nudges me in their direction.
“I’ll introduce them to you.”
It turns out they’re regular people from work. I didn’t know she had a job. Go figure. Apparently, she works for a transportation company. A big one at that.
I shake hands with an accountant, a lawyer, and a few sales representatives and their wives.
Who knew I’d be stumbling into these kinds of people?
I’m running a big company myself, and while I’m good at it, I can’t say it’s my favorite thing to do.
It’s a necessary evil.
As much as it is boring, it keeps me away from other people’s eyes.
Smiling, I do my best to engage in conversations.
To Carmen, I’m an aspiring actor and a freelance writer. Carmen has never shown much interest in my employment status.
Let’s say there was no time for that.
I served her a pickup line at a bar downtown as soon as I identified her as Thomas’s wife. I knew she was married. That’s how I got to her.
I wanted access to her life and knowledge, and fucking her seemed to be the way.
But despite chatting my ear off, she hasn’t been a valuable source of information. At the same time, I couldn’t clear her of any wrongdoing.
So, here we are, no longer fuck buddies––in my view––yet somewhat connected.
The conversations stall, and Carmen’s focus shifts to other people, so I make myself scarce and leave the group to check the premises.
Her place looks just like Mackenzie’s apartment in terms of layout, with only more furniture and stuff.
The walls have been painted in brighter colors, and the styling accurately reflects what this is.
A place to fuck.
She and her husband have a weird arrangement going on, but who am I to judge?
I enter the second room, her bedroom.
I checked every corner of this apartment the last time I was here. Every drawer. Every box. And every closet.
There’s no way Thomas has brought the necklace home.
Whoever ordered the hit probably got the necklace.
My hope was that they left a clue behind. That some little piece of evidence could take me to the mysterious person behind the operation.
Honestly, I hoped someone had made a mistake. I’m not dealing with brainiacs here or people obsessed with committing the perfect crime.
These are opportunistic crooks who won’t be giving up their hedonistic ways of living. That’s why I’m sure someone has made a mistake.
Her bedroom is empty of people, so I move my eyes over the window sill before I glance outside.
A glimmer of light glows down below.
Holding a drink, I walk to the second window.My men are not gone. They’re just hiding. They’re still watching the street, surveilling the cars, and looking for anything suspicious.
A long sigh leaves my chest.
“Is everything all right?” a voice echoes behind me, and I stifle my first reaction.
Sneaking up on me like this has often gotten people killed.I turn around, smiling and bringing my drink to my lips.
Carmen searches my eyes.
“Are you staying?” she asks simply.
Taking a sip, I ponder the best answer.
“Are you free tonight?” I ask.
Relaxed, she sashays to me.
“As you can see,” she murmurs, closing the space between us and looping her arms around my neck.
Her chest presses into my torso.
I feel the warmth of her touch sliding down past my belt, and my flesh reacts, but my mind goes to another woman.
The one living downstairs.
That’s some weird shit I need to take care of at some point.
I put my drink down and grab her hand.
Smoothly I remove it from my fly.
“I have to be someplace tonight. So it won’t work for me. Besides, your place is crammed with people.”
Tilting her head to the side, she shoots me a taunting smile.
“What about you stop by a little later when you’re done?” She sultrily bites her lip. “You know I usually go to sleep late. I’ll wait for you until you’re done with, uh… whatever has been holding your attention lately.”
Her insinuation comes with a knowing smile.
She gently reminds me that I haven’t fucked her since that tragic night when her husband unexpectedly returned and almost caught us in the act.
She doesn’t mind the other women in this story.
Because she doesn’t want me to be asking about the other men in her life.
Hell, it’s not even my place to ask her about that.
Her husband needs to grill her about the other men in her life.
As I said before… Weird people.
“I’ll see about that,” I say. “Maybe I’ll come back.”
She nods, a sexy grin curving her lips.
“You do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to take care of my guests.”
She spins around––a rehearsed move––and heads to the exit while I pick up my drink and take a swig, sunk in thought.
The moment she disappears through the door, I drag my gaze around the room again, trying to find a spot I might’ve left unchecked.
My chances of finding something in her apartment are slim, but you never know with these people.
I won’t go through her stuff again.
It’s too risky, and besides, I’ve done it once already.
Smoothly I turn to the window and glance outside when a noise wafts through the air from the other end of the street.
I slightly lean forward to get a better view of the road when two sports cars dash toward the building.
Things move quickly as my men step out of the dark, and my burner buzzes in my pocket.
They’re only supposed to use this phone in an emergency, and judging by the cars abruptly pulling to a stop and the individuals rushing out, I feel that this might be it.
“Yeah…” I say quietly, placing my drink down and moving to where I left my coat.
The passengers of the cars already make a beeline for the entrance while the drivers are quick to steer their vehicles away.
“Alvarez and his men are here. They’re probably looking for ‘Charlie’ to ask him some questions. What exit will you use?”
Casually, I sneak out of the room and head to the bathroom, cutting my way through groups of people.
“I’ll get out. Don’t worry,” I say before I end the call, open the exit door, and listen to the noise coming from the stairwell.
The men stomp up the stairs in a frenzy.
Someone must’ve tipped them off.
But why the hell are they after me, when I should be after them?
Because they’re useful idiots, that’s why.
Someone sent them here looking for me.
I guess the time of pretending to be someone else has come to an end.
I sneak out without saying goodbye to my gracious host and take a few steps down before pushing the door to the lower floor open and entering the corridor.
A few seconds pass, and the men, moving up in stern determination, walk past the floor I’m on.
The wise thing for me would be to walk out and get lost, and I’m about to do that when someone barks at the top of the stairs.
“He’s not here,” a man says––Alvarez, most likely, based on the roughness of his voice. “He can’t be too far. There was no time for him to exit the building. Go, go, go,” he instructs his men, and my mind goes to the conversation I just had with that woman.
Knock me over with a feather.
Carmen tipped them off.
If that’s the case, this is a trap.
How long has she known who I was?
I don’t have time to mull over that as I turn around and do the last thing I thought I’d do.