Chapter 17
Catalina
The guard shack at the entry of the club’s parking lot was attended by a man who recognized Armando. Lifting the gate, he waved him through. Taking in the outside of the Emerald Club, I tried my best to have an open mind. It wasn’t like the cartel didn’t have the same type of businesses. While I’d heard stories about Wanderlust, I’d never been inside.
Armando parked the SUV, got out, and opened my door.
“Are you going to walk me inside?” I asked.
“Do you want to walk in alone?”
The part of me that Dario claimed had fire wanted to say yes, I can do it. However, in the grand scheme of this situation, the answer was no. I was glad I had my bodyguard at my side especially when a man taller than Armando opened the door. I did a double take. Armando was nearly as tall as Dario, but this man was giant.
“Mrs. Luciano,” Armando said, introducing me.
“Ma’am, it’s a pleasure,” the big guy said in a deep voice. “Mr. Luciano is in his office.”
The sight of an establishment the size of the Emerald Club during the day was eye-opening. It reminded me of walking into a warehouse. The multiple bars, tables, couch groupings, and stages were empty except for workers cleaning, or stocking liquor.
I looked up. The ceiling over the main portion of the building went up three stories with catwalks and large spotlights in the rafters. There was a sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. While I’d never visited a club like this before, I’d seen enough movies to guess that the windows that looked down from the third floor were probably Dario’s office.
“The elevators are over here,” Armando said.
“May we walk up to the second floor?”
He shrugged and led me up the stairs.
“This is the VIP area,” he explained. “Higher shelf liquor, private entertainment, and there’s gambling on this level. Roulette, blackjack, and poker. No slots. The gambling is all with credits. As far as the government knows, no actual money is exchanged.”
“How do the VIP clients obtain the credits?”
Armando smiled. “Yeah, there is that.”
“And I suppose they cash them out.”
“Funny how that works.”
He led me through the different lounges, some separated with red velvet ropes. One had a grand piano near the center. Multiple areas had long stages with poles. Near the elevators to the third floor were multiple hallways resembling those found in a hotel. “Are the private rooms only on the second floor?”
“No. There are twice as many on the first floor.”
“Where are the workers?” I asked.
“Home, I’d expect. Unless there’s a private party, the doors don’t open until four.” Armando flashed a card in front of a sensor and the elevator opened.
We stepped inside.
The back side of the elevator was glass, giving us a view as we rose that overlooked the VIP sections. I turned as the elevator doors opened.
“Catalina,” Rocco said with surprise.
Stopping short, I’d almost collided with Dario’s brother-in-law. “Rocco.” While I barely knew Mia’s husband, there was something about him that made me feel uncomfortable.
He looked at Armando. “I’m going to assume Dario knows she’s here.”
“That would be correct,” my bodyguard said. “And he’s waiting.”
Rocco nodded, waited for us to step out, and he stepped into the elevator. Next, Armando led me to the right and stopped at the first door. He knocked.
“Come in.”
I recognized the voice.
Armando pushed the door inward. Dario stood from behind a big desk, looking as handsome as he did this morning. His suit coat was off, but his shirt was still pressed and crisp. His holster and diamond cuff links were in place.
His gaze met mine, sending a cold shiver through me. Maybe this was his work persona, but I wasn’t getting a warm and fuzzy vibe.
“I’ll let you know when Mrs. Luciano is ready to leave.”
Armando nodded, leaving me behind as he shut the door.
Dario stepped around his desk, each step slow and deliberate.
“Why did you—” I began to ask.
He lifted his hand, inhaled, and leaned against the front edge of his desk. The muscles in the side of his face pulled tight. His fingers blanched as they gripped the solid wood surface on either side of his long legs. Yet his volume and tone were even—too even. “Elizondro Herrera? Your first time to leave our home and you go to the hotel suite rented by Elizondro Herrera?”
Had Armando reported my whereabouts?
I never told him Ana’s name. And then I remembered I’d said it to the man standing guard, the man Armando had been forced to stay with.
“I went to visit Ana. Elizondro wasn’t there. He’s in New York.”
Dario lifted a hand and curled one finger, bidding me to come closer. Steeling my shoulders, I did as he silently asked. He led me around the desk to the side with a view of three large monitors. He moved the mouse, and a grainy picture came into view. “Who is that?”
Leaning forward, I looked closer at the man. “It’s difficult to tell.”
“Give it a try.” His voice was as cold as ice.
The man was without question Latino, large and imposing. My stomach twisted. “Is it Elizondro?”
“Very good.”
I met my husband’s stare. “Ana said he is in New York. She said he had business there. She just wanted to talk.”
“My security brought me this photo this morning,” Dario said. “I don’t know where Herrera is at the moment, but last night, he was here in Emerald Club.” Taking a breath, he took a step toward the windows behind his desk and turned back to face me. “Think about that, Catalina. A cartel drug lord, one who is openly challenging the Roríguez cartel, was in our club last night and then today, my new wife, the woman about to be wife of the KC capo, visits his hotel suite.”
“Dario, I went to see a friend. I don’t know anyone in this city. I was excited to receive her invitation.”
“What did she say? Did she ask questions about the famiglia or about any of our businesses?”
“Of course not,” I replied, my agitation building. “You and I have only been married a short time. I don’t even know your favorite color. I sure as hell don’t know about all of your businesses.”
Setting his jaw, Dario spun his large leather chair around and held it in place. “Have a seat. I want you to think about what was said. You were with her for nearly an hour.”
Instead of sitting, I stood my ground. “Armando reported my activity.” It wasn’t a question.
“I knew where you were from your phone. When I called Armando, he confirmed my suspicions.”
“Your suspicions?” My volume rose. “Armando texted you before we left. You were the one who told me I could go wherever I wanted to go as long as I had Armando or Giovanni.”
He inhaled, his nostrils flaring. “And I’m thankful you listened.” Dario held tight to the chair. “Sit.” He softened his tone. “Please. This is important.”
Releasing a breath, I took the seat.
He stepped back. “Think. What did you discuss?”
His chair was soft and firm at the same time, like the man who sat here.
“Marriage.” I tried to recall Ana’s and my discussion. “The wedding. Children. She’s pregnant with their third child. We discussed New York.”
“The famiglia there?”
“No, the city and crowds.” As I spoke, I recalled part of our conversation. My eyes opened wide as I looked up, catching Dario’s gaze. If I told him what I remembered, was I choosing the famiglia over the cartel?
“I need you to be completely honest.”
I nodded. “She said they—she and Elizondro—attended our wedding as a show of support for Patron. She said some of the cartel officers were questioning Patron’s strength if he had to create the alliance with the famiglia. And if the wedding went poorly, it would reflect poorly on Patron.”
“She told you that Herrera was present to keep the peace?” Dario asked incredulously.
I nodded. “Why was he here—at the club?”
“We’re trying to find out. I’ll have my men check to see if he flew to the East Coast today, but my gut says he’s still in Kansas City.” Dario reached for the arms of the chair and crouching low, penned me in. “Catalina, you could have walked into a trap.”
“Ana’s my friend.”
Shaking his head, Dario exhaled and bent forward, lowering his forehead to my knees. “I told Armando to get you out of the suite.” He looked up, his stare nearly black. “You’d been in there for too long. He was about to enter as you came out on your own. I was afraid they’d take you back to Mexico.”
“I wouldn’t go. I wouldn’t leave you.”
“They wouldn’t have needed your permission, only Herrera’s.”
I reached for Dario’s cheeks. “I’m safe.”
He nodded.
After a moment, Dario stood and offered me his hand. “Let me show you around.”
With my hand in his, I let him tug me to my feet. “Armando gave me a little tour.”
“In here,” he said, leading me through a doorway to a small room with a soft leather couch, a table, a closet, and an attached bathroom, complete with a shower. “I don’t want you to jump to conclusions every time I come home showered or in different clothes.” He opened a closet showing me a subsection of his wardrobe. “My work can get messy.”
A smile came to my lips. “You said you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.”
“I don’t have to. I wanted to.” He led me back to the windows behind his desk and pointed down to two hallways with glass ceilings. “Those lead back to the private rooms for VIP members. Our clientele consists of recognizable individuals. They don’t want to be recorded, so we personally monitor comings and goings. One strike and a customer is out. They pay for sex, not to have a punching bag. Our workers” —he emphasized the term— “are here of their own free will, and they’re well compensated. They have rules that Rocco enforces. I’m not thrilled with all of his techniques. It’s something else that will change when I become capo. We employ dancers, waitresses, bartenders, and prostitutes. Being one doesn’t make each woman the others.”
“I never entered Wanderlust. I don’t know for sure,” I said trying to recall, “but I think Em said that the whores live on-site.”
Dario nodded. “I told you; they’re treated more like sex slaves. From what I’ve learned, many of them are working to pay debts to the cartel, either their own or for someone else who put them up for collateral. Similar to the company store of old, those debts rarely are repaid in full. Interest accrues and the women are charged for room, board, even their uniforms.”
“I didn’t know that.”
How did I not know that?
He ran his finger over my cheek. “I’m not a good man. I oversee illegal operations with an iron fist. In this world, kindness is misconstrued as weakness. Killing is as much a part of this world as living. I chose you because I believed based on your personal knowledge, you could handle the truth of living with a man like me. At the same time, it’s important to me that you know I’m a fair man. Our employees are treated justly.”
I nodded. “I see that.”
“Green,” Dario said with a sliver of a grin.
“Green?”
“My favorite color.”
“Because it’s the color of money?” I asked.
“That may have started it. Now when I think of green, I think of your eyes.”
I reached for Dario’s hand. “I’m sorry about this morning. I never considered I was in danger. Armando was there.”
“I would’ve been furious if you went without him.”
I tilted my head with a grin. “You weren’t furious when I arrived?” He seemed to be.
“I was upset,” he admitted. “Furious is a step above.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Where are you going now?”
“Home.”
“I’ll see you there for dinner. Tonight, it will be at six thirty.”
“Good to know.”
His cheeks rose. “Communication.”
* * *
Dario kept his word.At a little after six, he entered our bedroom, finding me in the closet, dressing for dinner. His body filled the doorframe, and his dark eyes smoldered as he watched me pull up my hosiery. The stockings were the kind that went up to my thigh. While I didn’t always wear hosiery, I’d learned that it makes a dress classier and my legs sexier.
I took my time, slowly pulling the silk nylon up. Once I had both stockings secured, I stood and lowered the skirt of my dress. “You’re home.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Remind me to be home in time for that show every night.”
“It’s hardly a show. You see better shows from the windows of your office.”
Dario took two or three long strides and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling my hips toward his. With his free hand, he traced the side of my face with his long finger. “What are you doing to me, Catalina?”
I opened my eyes wide.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I never thought it would be, and in only a few days, I’m spellbound.”
That was the second time he’d said it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I couldn’t let myself think about the meaning behind his words.
He went on, “Today, I feared that behind the door of that hotel room, you were drugged and ready to be taken out of the country.”
I laid my hand on his shirt, feeling his solid chest and the beating of his heart. “I drank coffee, ate cake, and spoke with a friend. Again, I’m sorry I worried you.” I took a step back. “Did you find out why Elizondro was at Emerald Club last night?”
“He showed off wads of cash and spoke with a few VIP members. One was a member of the Federal Trade Commission. We can’t exactly ask the commissioner what they discussed. I’ve made it clear that Herrera isn’t welcome back, not without an invite from Dante or me, and that’s not about to happen.”
“Does Dante come up to our apartment often?”
A smile came to his lips. “Funny you should mention that. He did before I was married.”
“Don’t let me stop him. Contessa mentioned he used to eat dinner here.”
Dario laughed. “He’s a cheap SOB. He’ll drop a C-note or two on a glass of bourbon but won’t hire his own cook. I’m glad you don’t mind.”
I smiled. “Because he’s coming to dinner tonight.”
“He’s already downstairs giving Contessa hell.” Dario shook his head. “Don’t worry. She loves it.”
With his hand in the small of my back, Dario led me out of our room, downstairs, and into the dining room. The table was set for three. Before we sat, Dario went to the buffet near the far wall and poured a glass of bourbon. His gaze came to me. “Would you like a glass?”
“No, thank you.”
“She’s not a bourbon drinker,” Dante said, coming from the kitchen with a serving platter in his hands. “Pork loin.” He set the platter down. Unlike Dario’s formal attire, Dante was dressed casually in faded blue jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his muscles.
“Who’s the new waiter?” I asked in jest.
Dante pointed at me and spoke to Dario. “I told you she’d be fine with me coming up here.” He turned to me. “You don’t want a single man to die without homecooked meals, do you?”
I clutched my hands to my heart. “I didn’t realize it was that dire one floor down.”
“Oh, you should see my refrigerator. Empty.”
“Stop,” Dario said, lifting his glass and looking at his brother. “She agreed. You won’t starve.”
Dante flashed a grin.
Contessa entered with more serving dishes: mashed potatoes, green beans, salad, and dinner rolls. “Mrs. Luciano, would you like wine with dinner?”
I looked at Dario’s glass of bourbon. “What do you have?”
Dario shook his head. “Contessa, Catalina is a wine connoisseur. Surprise her with one of our dry whites.” He looked at me. “The wine cellar is off the kitchen. Since we’re over forty stories in the air, it’s not a true cellar, but the walls are insulated, and the room is temperature controlled.”
“It takes a chunk of my square footage away,” Dante said. “And I don’t even have a door from my level.”
“Anyway,” Dario said, “you should check it out.”
“I will.” I nodded to Contessa. “Surprise me.”
With a smile, she went back through the swinging door to the kitchen.
Dario was still standing near the decanter. He looked at Dante. “Drink?”
“Nope,” he replied. “I have a few meetings after dinner. Dad wants me to check and see what’s happening with Tony’s shit. We need the trucks especially with the additional product Roríguez promised.”
“The man who was murdered yesterday?” I asked.
Dante stopped mid-motion as he was dishing pieces of pork tenderloin onto his plate. “How did you know about that?”
Biting my lip, I looked at my husband, worried I wasn’t supposed to say anything.
“It wasn’t on the news,” Dario said. “I told her. And don’t bitch; you’re discussing business here without a filter.”
Dante smiled my direction. “I was just making sure we can still talk.”
Remembering what Dario said earlier in the day, I repeated it. “I come with a background of understanding.”
“Yeah,” Dante said, “Rocco said you were at the Emerald Club today. What did you think? It’s better than that hellhole Wanderlust.”
It was my turn to stare.
“No offense,” Dante said. “Maybe with this alliance, we can raise Roríguez’s standards.”
As we ate, I wanted to be offended by Dante’s off-handed comments about the cartel. The truth was that I was impressed by the Emerald Club and the way they conducted some of their business. I just wasn’t sure how I could bring it up in conversation to Uncle Nicolas or Nick. I probably couldn’t. Em was a possibility.
‘Hey, have you thought of treating your whores better?’
The wine Contessa chose was delicious. I had two glasses with dinner and opted to take a third glass with me to the library. Dario and Dante disappeared into Dario’s downstairs office. I’d been exposed to enough of their world during our meal. I was more than happy to retire to the peaceful calm of the library and my laptop.
As I settled on one of the lounge chairs, my phone rang.