Chapter Ten

 

When I step into the hall, Miguel does his best, but can't stop the grin from spreading across his face. Jack, my other bodyguard, stands there stone-faced, looking straight ahead, refusing to look me in the eye. Obviously, the VIP room isn't as soundproofed as I thought and they could hear Shelby losing it.

Miguel clears his throat, still trying to stifle his grin. “Heading home, boss?”

I shake my head. “Down to the bar, actually.”

“You know they have waitresses that'll bring you your drinks,” he says. “All you have to do –”

“Actually, I want to stretch my legs a bit,” I say.

He nods. “Right behind you then.”

I shake my head. “I'm fine,” I say. “Crowded public place. Just hang out here. In fact, why don't you both go have a drink. Dance a little. Find a woman. Have a little fun.”

“I'm married, sir,” Jack says.

“Right,” I reply. “You're not, Miguel.”

He shrugs. “We're both on duty, boss,” he says. “If it's all the same to you, we'll keep working.”

I nod and give him a smile. “You're a good man, Miguel.”

I turn and head downstairs, Miguel right behind me. Shelby's question sticks with me though. Why do I still feel the need to have bodyguards? It's not like I have people gunning for me like my father did. I'm actively divesting from his criminal enterprises and I don't face the same sort of dangers he did. Especially, now that I'm not in New York.

A lot of it really is just old habits. My father always had a security detail and I suppose, I just kind of picked it up and carried on the tradition.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I find my way to a patio in the rear of the club. Stepping outside, I let the cool night air wash over me. The inside of the club is hot and stuffy, so the fresh air is a relief. There are a dozen people or so milling about on the patio, taking a break from the club to have a smoke and a drink.

Taking a pack of cigarettes out of my jacket pocket, I slide one out and pop it into my mouth. I offer one to Miguel, who declines. I light it up and take a deep drag, exhaling a thick plume of smoke and watch it drift into the darkened sky above.

“Son of a bitch,” I hear a man exclaim. “I can't believe my eyes.”

I look around and see a short, portly man with gray hair, slicked back and pulled into a ponytail coming my way and I groan, realizing who it is – Max Irving. And then I realize why I keep a security detail – to keep guys like him away from me.

He's wearing a well-tailored suit, but even the fancy clothes can't mask the greasiness of the man. He just looks like a stereotypical greasy, used car salesman with a horrible spray tan that turned his skin a shade of orange just this side of Cheetos.

Why you'd fake tan in a place like Southern California, with all its beaches, is beyond me.

And when he gets closer, the combination of way too much cheap cologne and body odor is so pungent, I have to hold my breath for a moment. I put my hand over my mouth and take a step backward, hoping to get outside of his smell radius – or that he gets the hint and stays a decent distance away from me.

Miguel, a look of appalled disgust on his own face, steps in between us and Max looks at him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. When Max tries to go around him, Miguel moves with him, saying nothing, but unwilling to let him get too close to me.

“What the fuck man?” Max almost shouts.

Miguel says nothing and simply opens up his jacket – presumably letting Max see the weapon he's carrying. Max looks unimpressed and opens his own coat, letting Miguel see the piece he's carrying. Miguel smirks at him and shakes his head.

“I guess it all comes down to reflexes then, chief,” he says, looking the man up and down. “Who do you think's quicker, hoss?'

The man sighs, his irritation obviously growing. “You gonna call off your attack dog or what, Rossi?”

I chuckle and put my hand on Miguel's shoulder. “It's okay, Miguel,” I say. “Thank you.”

Miguel nods but doesn't take his eyes off the man. He takes a few steps back, his gaze still fixed on the walking Cheeto. Miguel is good at what he does. Excellent, really. He has a nose for trouble and seems able to sniff it out in a heartbeat. He keeps a careful eye on the man, his hand subtly remaining near the holster beneath his jacket.

“Roberto Rossi,” he says, holding out his hand. “Max –”

“I know who you are,” I say and look down at his hand, unwilling to shake it.

He looks at me and then his hand pointedly, and I simply stare back at him. Eventually, he gets the hint and lowers his hand, clearly put out by my refusal to shake. But, I have no reason or desire to. Max is a disgusting piece of human garbage who is beneath me.

Max Irving did a lot of business with my dad back in New York. He's a hustler who traffics weapons, drugs – and women. I'd heard he came out to LA to get himself into the porn business. Which isn't surprising. Perfectly legal, of course, but also perfectly sleazy.

Which, if there is one word that accurately describes Max Irving, sleazy is it.

“Anyway,” he says, trying to chuckle his way through the awkwardness. “Imagine running into you here. I thought I'd heard you moved your operation out here to the City of Angels.”

“Let's cut through the bullshit. What do you want, Max?” I ask.

He clears his throat, appearing to be doing his best to keep his annoyance under wraps and his temper in check. He's a man who isn't used to being so blatantly disrespected, apparently. But, I have no reason to respect him. And even less of a reason to continue talking to him any longer than the protocols of civility require.

“Well, before I left New York, I enjoyed a good working relationship with your father,” he says. “And when I saw you standing there, I thought it was serendipitous indeed. See, I'm hoping to renew those business ties with your family, and –”

“My father is dead,” I say. “And I'm in charge of the operation now.”

“I understand and I'm sorry to hear that, of course,” he says, his voice smooth. “But, I think that we can come to a mutually beneficial –”

“I doubt it,” I say. “I'm doing things differently, Max. I'm divesting –”

“I'd heard that too, of course,” he says. “But I was hoping -”

It's then that I notice the couple standing against the rail behind him. I'm good with faces and recognize the guy – Landon Hall. Small time hustler who's into the family for sixty grand. I remember being there when he took the loan out. And as far as I know, he hasn't paid it back yet.

I don't recognize the girl though. Five-feet-eight or nine, long strawberry blonde hair, bright blue eyes the color of the Caribbean Sea, full hips, full breasts, and curves in all the right places. She looks young, wholesome. She's got a definite girl-next-door vibe about her that's sexy as hell.

Which makes me wonder – why in the hell is she hanging out with maggots like Max and Landon?

“Who's the girl?” I ask, pointing at her.

Max turns and looks to where I'm pointing, and then turns back to me. “She's unimportant,” he says. “Anyway, as I was saying –”

“Who is she?” I ask again, staring into Max's eyes.

He sighs. “Harper – something or other,” he says. “She's one of my new acquisitions –”

“Acquisitions?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

“Yes,” he says. “She's going to work for me.”

“Does she know that?” I ask. “She doesn't seem like the type who'd work in your shitbag porns. And why is she with Landon Hall?”

“You'd have to ask her,” Max says. “Now, if we can get back to what we were discussing –”

I can tell by the way he's talking and acting that there is something Max isn't telling me. Something he's hiding. He's just being too – cagey.

“We weren't discussing anything,” I say. “You were just standing there flapping your lips.”

I'm not going to get any answers from Max, so I decide to go get them straight from the horse's mouth. Leaving Max standing there gaping at me, I walk toward Landon and the girl.

“Keep that scumbag away from us,” I say to Miguel as I pass them.

Judging by the howls of protest and outrage behind me, Miguel is doing a good job of keeping Max at bay. Like I said, he's damn good at his job. As I approach Landon I see his eyes grow wide – like dinner plate wide. He pales, losing all color in his face, and I can see his eyes darting all around as if he's looking for a place to run. The girl looks at me, cocks her head, and gives me a wide, sweet smile.

Up close, she's absolutely stunning. She definitely has an air of innocence about her that seems way out of place in the company she's keeping. And that girl-next-door charm I saw from the other side of the patio is even stronger up close.

“Well hi,” the girl says, her Southern accent dripping like honey off her tongue.

“Evening,” I say to her and then turn my attention to Landon. “Mr. Hall, nice to see you again.”

“Rob – Mr. Rossi. Hi,” he says, his voice quavering. “W – what are you doing here?”

The girl turns a curious eye to him, a questioning, confused look on her face. And it hits me – she has no idea what's going on. She has no idea who Landon is – not really. And she has no idea what's happening to her. Or at least, what was going to happen to her.

But, as I stare daggers into Landon and see the near panic on his face, I get the idea that what he and Max are up to isn't good – for her.

“I think the better question is, what are you doing here?” I ask, my tone telling him I know what he's doing.

“Look, Mr. Rossi,” he says. “It was signed off on, and –”

I turn to the girl and give her a smile. “Excuse me, miss, I –”

“Harper,” she says, her smile brighter than the stars above. “Harper Wilkins.”

“Very nice to meet you, Harper,” I say. “Please, call me Rob.”

“Nice to meet you too, Rob,” she says.

“I wonder if you'd be good enough to give me a moment alone with Landon?” I ask. “He and I need to have a conversation.”

“Of course,” she says. “Very nice to meet you. I really hope we can talk again later.”

“I'd like nothing more,” I say.

She takes her drink and walks across the patio, looking around at everything with a wide-eyed wonder about her. I'm not sure who she thinks I am or what Landon and Max have told her, but it's obvious to me that she has zero clue what the real story is.

“Sweet girl,” I say.

Landon nods but says nothing, refusing to meet my eyes.

“Correct me if I'm wrong,” I say. “But aren't you still in debt to me for sixty grand?”

The man finally looks up at me, a defiant gleam in his eyes. “Not anymore,” he says. “I worked out a deal with Marco and –”

“What deal?” I ask.

He sighs. “Harper is going to work for Max,” he says. “Marco signed off on it though, and –”

“She's going to work for Max?” I ask. “Does Harper know this?”

“Sorta,” he says.

He looks away, unable to meet my eyes and I feel my temper rising. That infamous Rossi temper – one of the less charming traits I inherited from my dad – has gotten me into trouble on more than a few occasions. I do my best to control it. To keep it reined in. But sometimes, it gets the best of me.

And I feel like unless Landon starts giving me some answers, I'm going to have a real hard time keeping myself from exploding on him.

“What's your play here, Landon?” I ask, my voice cold. “Layout this deal for me, front to back. Now.”

Landon sighs and explains how Marco offered him a hundred grand in exchange for Harper going to work for Max. And when he's done, it's all I can do to not kick his ass right then and there. The idea of this piece of shit selling that girl into the porn business – it infuriates me.

“Look, Mr. Rossi, I don't want to do this,” he says. “I never did. I like the kid and think she's got real chops. I think she can make it in the music business. But Marco was threatening to kill me if I didn't take his offer. I know I owe you a lot of money, but I don't have it. And Marco said this was my only way out of it.”

I look over at the girl, Harper, and see her talking to a couple of guys. She's smiling and laughing, her personality brighter than the sun. There's something almost magnetic about the girl and I can't take my eyes off her. That this piece of garbage would be willing to do something so incredibly horrible to her – anger isn't even the right word for it.

And Marco. At one time, he'd been my favorite uncle. Always doting on me. Always there to listen to me, to offer his advice. Once upon a time, I'd thought the world of him. Marco could do no wrong and he filled in a lot of the gaps in my relationship with my dad. It was Marco who took me tuxedo shopping for my prom. It was Marco who took me out for my first beer to have a man-to-man talk when I went through my first broken heart. Marco was always there for me, no questions asked.

But after my dad died, things began to change with him. He made it clear that he felt he should be the one taking over the family business – not me. And he made it equally clear that he did not approve of the changes I'm making. He doesn't agree with the decision I made to take the Rossi family legit. Vehemently.

I tried to convince myself that everything would be okay. That he would see the wisdom in doing what I'm doing and that he'd eventually come around. I'd even left him behind in New York to start closing down business there. He's supposed to collect all the old debts, shut down the prostitution rings, the drug runners – every criminal enterprise my father was running, he was supposed to shut down.

Apparently though, he's still brokering deals and is venturing into new territory – human sex trafficking. That was a line not even my father would cross – and my father was an international arms dealer, which should tell you something right there.

“Yeah, that deal is dead,” I say. “Just forget about that shit right now.”

The look on his face is one of relief mixed with apprehension. I can see that in his own way, he cares for the girl. Apparently, not enough to say no to selling her to a scumbag like Max Irving though.

“What about my debt?” he asks.

“Oh, you still owe me sixty grand,” I say. “But, you're going to have to find another way to get it. Marco does not have my approval to cut deals – especially deals like that. I'd never sign off on something like that.”

“I don't know how I'm going to get you the money, Mr. Rossi.”

“Not my problem,” I say. “Figure it out.”

I turn and nod to Miguel, letting him know that he can let Max through. He nods and steps aside, letting the portly man waddle by – and follows close behind him. When Max, red-faced and looking angry steps up beside Landon, Miguel takes his position by my side, an amused smirk on his face.

Max huffs and puffs at me. “I don't appreciate you –”

“Shut up,” I say as I turn and stare daggers through the man. “This is what's going to happen. Your little deal with Marco is dead. You will not be subjecting that girl to – you. Or the degrading shit you do –”

“No, uh-uh,” Max cuts me off. “I've got a deal in place with Marco and –”

I step close and loom over the shorter man. The rage, dark and abiding, wells up within me and I fight the urge to throttle him. Perhaps intuiting what I'm feeling, Miguel steps closer, unobtrusively putting a hand on my back as if to ground me. Pull me back to reality.

I take a deep breath and then take a step back, giving Miguel a slight nod of thanks for helping me off that ledge.

“Marco doesn't make the decisions for the Rossi family,” I say, my voice colder than an Arctic wind. “I do. Therefore, since I did not sign off on this deal, it doesn't happen.”

“Yeah, but –”

“It doesn't happen,” I say again, my tone colder than before.

Max takes a step back and looks positively apoplectic. But, he wisely keeps his mouth shut. He looks at Landon and I can see the wheels turning in his head. Max isn't half as smart as he thinks he is. He figures that once they leave here, they'll just do what they want anyway.

Yeah, time to disabuse them of that notion.

“And here's the other thing,” I say. “I'm going to hang on to Harper – as collateral. She's going to stay with me until –”

“The hell she is,” Landon snaps. “She stays with me.”

I wheel around and stare him in the eye, daring him to challenge me.

“Landon, I've been dealing with people like you most of my life,” I say. “I know what you're thinking. And just to ensure you keep things on the level with me, I'm going to insist that Harper stays as my guest.”

“Your father would be outraged by how you do business,” Max says.

“Well, it's a good thing he's dead then, isn't it?” I say. “And by the way, we're done here. You can go now.”

“You don't tell me what –”

I give Miguel a nod and he escorts a fuming Max off the patio. Harper watches him go with a confused expression on her face. And when she turns back to us, she gives Landon a questioning look. He gives her a slight shake of the head and motions for her to stay put.

“Look,” I say. “I can see that you care about the girl – in your own warped way. And you're stuck between a rock and a hard place. I get it. But I have a business to operate.”

Landon sighs. “She's never going to agree to this.”

“She will,” I say. “Because you're going to help me. You're going to tell her that she's going to stay with me while you handle your business.”

“And if I don't?”

“If you don't, then I'm going to tell her exactly what your plans for her were,” I say. “And how do you think that'll go?”

“You're a real prick, you know that?”

“Says the guy about to sell a girl into a sex trafficking ring,” I say and laugh. “I'll tell you what though. I'm feeling a little magnanimous tonight. You get this square with her, I'll knock ten grand off your debt. Fair?”

He sighs. “Fine. Not like I have a lot of options here.”

“No, you really don't.”

“And when I get you your fifty grand, you'll just let the two of us go?” he asks.

“You keep this all above board and handle your business, then yeah,” I say. “You have my word. But let me say this. If you pay your debt and the two of you go on your merry way, if I hear that you sold her off to Max or anybody like him – and believe me, I will hear – I will cut your fucking heart out. I may be doing business differently, but I'm still a Rossi. Do you understand me?”

He looks from me to the girl and back to me again. I can see the tension in his face and the resignation in his eyes. He knows he has no alternatives.

“Yeah, I got you,” he says. “But, one more thing.”

“You're really not in a position to make demands, Landon.”

“I know,” he says. “I just – I'm asking you to do me a solid.”

“What?”

“Just – please don't tell her about Max and that whole deal.”

I look over at the girl who's staring at us with an expression of concern on her face. She has no idea what's happening and I feel bad for her. I feel bad that she got herself so mixed up with a couple of shitbags like these two.

“Who did she think Max was?” I ask.

I see color flare in Landon's face. At least he has the decency to feel shame for what he was going to do. I didn't think he had it in him.

“She thought he was a record producer,” he says, sounding miserable. “She's a singer and thought he worked for a major label. Was gonna be able to take her career to the next level.”

I look at him, stunned by his admission. Not that I should be – I'm dealing with disgusting people. Yet another reason I'm glad to be bringing my father's business dealings to a close.

“Unbelievable,” I say. “You really are a piece of shit.”

“Look, man,” he snaps. “I'm not proud of it. When you're in a fucked up position, you do some fucked up shit.”

“Apparently,” I say.

“You don't know what it's like, rich boy,” he rounds on me and growls. “You don't know what it's like to have to hustle all day, every day. So, don't you even fuckin' stand there and judge me.”

“You're right,” I say. “I don't know what it's like. But I do know how fucking wrong it is to sell another human being into the kind of sleazy shit Max runs. What kind of person does that? How can you even stand there and call yourself a man?”

Landon doesn't answer – there's really nothing he can say to that. He casts his eyes to the ground and looks like a whipped dog. Harper, her patience expended, walks over to us. She gives me an awkward half smile and then looks at Landon, putting a gentle hand on his arm.

“Everything okay?” she asks softly.

Landon clears his throat and looks at me for a moment before putting on a smile and his street salesman face.

“Yeah, everything's great,” he says. “We have a slight change of plans though.”