Casper still has expensive tastes, doesn’t he? Amara Justice Nixon, simply known as A.J to everyone but the government, mused. Smirking, she took in Casper’s opulent office from her position atop his desk.
Everything in this room screamed luxury; from its gigantic size to the marble floor, from the large surveillance screen that showed scenes of the nightclub below to the leather and dark wood furniture that filled it, from the smell of expensive cigars that hung in the air to the grilled floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out into the busy New York streets. But what caught A.J’s eye was the artwork littered around the room.
An untrained person would’ve assumed that the art was pretty but fake. However, A.J had been in this business long enough to know the real deal. And those were real, and extremely expensive.
Her chuckles echoed in the room when she noticed the Miró sculpture seated on ONE of the side-tables in the lounge area. Trust Casper to put a stolen sculpture where anyone could see it. The man had balls on him.
She was about to hop off the desk to get a closer look at the Miró when the doorknob suddenly turned. Instantly alert, she trained her gaze on the door. A second later, the door swung open and Casper walked into the room.
If Casper Henson ever decided to start a skincare line, it would be a success. The man was fifty-seven years old yet looked like he was in his early forties. His smooth, chocolate-toned skin barely showed any wrinkles, and the stylish, slim-fit suit he was wearing showed off his athletic and tall physique. In fact the only clue that he wasn’t as young as he looked was the light streaks of gray in his hair.
Obviously, her time away had had absolutely no effect on him.
Closely following behind Casper were two men; one white, one black. Both men were tall, heavyset and wore dark suits and sunglasses. A.J snorted beneath her breath as she took them in. The two looked liked the supporting cast of a bad gangster movie.
At first, the three men didn’t notice A.J.
Then they did.
All three froze for about a second before the two minions reached for the guns tucked at the waist of their pants. But they were a second too late.
“Uh uh uh,” A.J warned as she pointed her two pistols straight at them. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The minions froze with their hands on the grips of their handguns. Casper, after recovering from the shock of seeing her, was now watching her with uncomfortably intense eyes and a forced smile.
“Guns on the floor and kick them here,” A.J ordered, her gaze unwavering as she watched the three men.
Apparently her order wasn’t clear enough because one of the men pulled out his gun and aimed it at her. One pull of her trigger and a bullet whizzed right towards the man. It hit his gun with a loud bang.
“Ugh!” The man yelled as his gun flew right out of his hand to the floor.
Casper and the other minion jumped away from him in shock. If the room wasn’t soundproof, the gunshot’s echo and the minion’s subsequent howling would’ve surely brought people running into the room.
A.J pulled the trigger again, and another bullet went flying towards the guy. This one went right between his legs, missing his groin by just a few inches, to embed itself into the wall behind him. The sound the man emitted was somewhere between a strangled scream and a squeal. His gaze lowered to his groin then to her. To his groin then back to her.
A.J raised one eyebrow. “Next time I won’t miss.”
This time there was no hesitation. Both minions kicked their guns towards her.
“A.J, A.J, A.J,” Casper finally spoke. His sharp gaze followed her as she hopped off his desk so she could grab the two pistols on the floor. “You’re finally out. What a wonderful surprise.”
A.J tucked her guns into the holsters underneath her jacket then bent to pick the minions’ guns. With quick, expert movements, she unloaded the guns. Their bullets fell noisily to the marble floor. She tossed the now impotent guns back towards the two men’s feet. Then she turned back to Casper.
“Is it really a wonderful surprise?” Her voice ringing with sarcasm, she added, “I noticed that you weren’t at the prison gates waiting for me, Dad.”
“I wanted to come. Really, I did.” Casper shot a furious look at his men, who were now cowering near the wall, before walking towards the lounge area. He settled on the plush armchair then reached for a drawer beneath the coffee table. Pulling the drawer open, he said, “But you know this place, and how busy it can get.”
“I know it’s busy.” A.J’s sneakered feet barely made a sound as she sauntered back to his desk and sat on its edge. “But you could’ve made time for your oldest daughter.”
Casper didn’t say anything. All he did was frown at the now-empty drawer.
“Looking for this?” A.J pulled out a gold-plated pistol from her back and waved it at him.
Casper’s eyes widened when he saw his pistol. That shock was soon replaced by annoyance when A.J unloaded it too then tossed it to the floor with a loud clang.
“I see you haven’t lost your edge,” Casper said, his voice tight with restrained rage, as he sat back in his seat.
“Actually, I had a lot of time to sharpen it.” A.J’s gaze was as icy as her tone as she reminded him, “We had a deal, Dad. And you broke it.”
Casper’s nostrils flared. “I don’t recall any deal.”
“I knew you’d say that.” A.J sighed before pulling a phone from her jacket pocket. “Which is why I kept this.”
She swiped her finger over the screen and skimmed through a couple of files before coming to the one she wanted. When she pressed play on the recording, Casper’s voice came through loud and clear.
“Just take this one for me and I’ll send them five thousand dollars,” Casper cajoled, his tone sugary and pleading.
“Five thousand every month,” A.J’s recorded voice echoed in the room. “Until we’ve given them our whole take for the job.”
“Five thousand. Every month,” he agreed eagerly.
“See.” A.J pressed stop on the recording. Swinging her feet to and fro, she said, “We had a deal.”
“You recorded me?” Casper’s voice shook with anger.
“I recorded you.” A.J nodded. When Casper opened his mouth to speak, she cut in, “And don’t even claim you made the monthly payments. I already know you didn’t.”
His mouth thin with anger, Casper asked, “So what are you here for? To kill me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What would I gain from that?” She tucked her phone back into her pocket. “I’m here for my money. All five hundred thousand dollars of it.”
“I don’t have it,” he retorted.
“Then get it.”
“Trust me, A.J. I want to pay you. I do.” Casper offered her a forced smile. “But I don’t have any cash on me right now, and the way my accounts are set up… Well, it might take a while for me to get that money.”
“Ah! The way your accounts are set up… where have I heard that before?” A.J turned to heave a black, leather art-tube from the bottom of the desk. “Then I suppose you won’t mind if I hold on to this while you look for my money.”
Casper stiffened. “What’s that?”
“I believe it used to hang…” She pointed to a now-empty frame hanging on the far-left wall. “… over there.”
“Is that my…” Casper sucked in a sharp breath and shot to his feet as his gaze swung from the empty frame to the art-tube. “Is that my… my Schiele?”
She smirked. “Yes, I believe it is.”
His eyes were filled with horror as they flew up to meet A.J’s. “You cut my Schiele? My Schiele that’s worth almost two million?”
“Don’t worry. I was very careful.” She patted the art-tube fondly. “And now it’s safely stored.”
His jowls trembling with rage, Casper turned to his minions. “Get my painting.”
Neither of the two moved.
“Now.” Casper barked.
The minions traded looks, then the black one stammered, “B-but Chief, she’s got guns.”
Casper’s top lip curled in a sneer as his blazing eyes settled on A.J. “She won’t shoot you.”
He was right about that. A.J wasn’t the type to shoot people. Besides, she’d only loaded her guns with two bullets each since she was only planning to scare these idiots. But that didn’t mean she’d let them catch her.
While the minions were still debating the riskiness of coming at her, she slung the art-tube over her shoulder by its strap then hopped off the table. Her movements brought the two thugs alive, and they started towards her.
Mr. Black (as she’d now branded the black guy) was the first to throw a punch. With lightning speed, she ducked his fist then grabbed his wrist. Deftly, she twisted. His pained screams rent the air. A.J rolled her eyes. Oh come on! It was just a twisted arm not a gunshot wound.
Mr. White came towards her, his leg lifted in a low kick. Still twisting Mr. Black’s arm, A.J deftly sidestepped Mr. White’s kick. Reeling from the miss, Mr. White stumbled forward. A.J helped him along by kicking him in the back. Hard. He went sprawling to the floor.
Mr. Black tried throwing a punch with his free and uninjured arm. A.J bent low to duck the punch, let his wrist go then punched his stomach. When he staggered backwards, she lifted in a roundhouse kick that met his jaw and sent him tumbling to the ground in a dead faint.
She thought she was done with the two thugs, until a heavy arm suddenly wrapped around her throat, chocking her. Acting on pure instinct, she drove her elbow into the soft belly behind her. With an ‘oomph’, Mr. White let her go. A.J whirled around and when he tried to grab her with both arms, she bent down and grabbed the sides of his suit-jacket. She pulled the fabric up until it covered his head, then while he was blinded, she kicked him twice in the stomach then let him go. He stumbled backwards and fell to the floor with a pained groan.
Both minions were now on the ground, curled up, groaning and showing no signs of coming at her again.
Barely a minute and the fight was over? What were thugs coming to these days?
Shaking her head in disappointment, A.J turned to Casper. “You should get yourself better bodyguards.”
“My men are everywhere,” Casper threatened. “You won’t be able to get out of the club.”
“Won’t I?” She took a step towards him. Casper stood firm, his smirk showing his confidence that she wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.
One of these days! A.J narrowed her eyes as she stared at him for a long drawn out moment. One of these days!
She heaved a long deep breath to cool her temper before taking her phone out of her pocket. She tossed the gadget to the couch nearest to him.
“My number’s there as well as your copy of our verbal contract,” she said. “Call me when you have my money ready.”
Before Casper could get another word in, she spun on her heels and headed to the door. When she opened the door, she found two other minions standing guard a few feet away. Surprise widened their eyes when they saw her emerge from their boss’s office.
When she edged closer to them, one asked, “When did you get in?”
While the other asked, “Who are you?”
“Me?” A.J shrugged. “I’m your boss’s daughter.”
While they were still chewing on that, she slipped between them and started for the stairs. But before she could get to the stairs, Casper’s irate voice rang behind her. “What are you doing, you fools? Get her.”
Fresh adrenalin already pumping within her, A.J started to run.
“CHEERS!” LEE MARWICK, who was standing on a couch, held up his glass. “To several more weeks of the highest ratings in our timeslot, and to making sure Game of Thrones doesn’t steal our thunder with their stupid dragons.”
The twenty or so men and women who made up his main crew lifted their glasses. “Cheers!”
The second floor was high enough from the dance floor that the booming music below was a mere hum in the face of their enthusiastic shouts.
“And to our showrunner-” Sam Vantoch, the head of cinematography, joined Lee atop the couch. He slung his arm over Lee’s shoulder. “- who got us all here despite all our whining, kicking and screaming.”
Sam’s words were met with roaring laughter and cheers.
Though Lee had been in showbiz since he’d graduated high-school, this was the first TV show he was running on his own. When Indira Gates, creator of their sci-fi thriller, American Legends, and its first showrunner, had stepped down, she’d handed the mantle to Lee. Everyone had complained that at twenty-eight, he was too young and green to handle such a big show, but Indira had insisted that Lee was the only one she wanted. He, she believed, was the only one who understood her vision and could be trusted to keep it alive while still delivering good ratings for the network.
As it turned out, Indira was right. Lee had delivered spectacularly. Despite being in its fifth season, the show was breaking all its own records and kicking the asses of competing shows. Even Lee had to admit that he’d done better than he expected.
While the cheers and speeches continued, a grinning Lee stepped off the couch to join his friend, and one of the writers of their show, Fabián Arias, at his table.
“Brilliant speech, brilliant speech,” Fabián teased. “I saw Obama in you.”
“I know right?” Lee grinned. “Did you hear when I said, ‘steal our thunder’? It was inspired.”
“Pure genius, my friend.” Fabián fought to hide his grin. “Pure genius.”
“Leeeeeee,” Jodi Butler, their forty-something costume designer, sidled next to Lee. It was obvious she was already drunk by the glazed look in her eyes and the heavy alcohol-tinged smell that smacked Lee in the face when she leaned closer. “What are you doing? Why don’t you drink more?”
“I’m already drinking.” Lee pointed to his half-full glass. He tried to shift away from her but she slung her arm around his waist to keep him close to her.
“Has anyone ever told you, you have beautiful eyes?” She gazed up at him adoringly. “They’re sooo green and sooo beautiful.”
“That’s what I always tell him,” Fabián piped up.
“Don’t encourage her,” Lee warned.
“I’m just saying.” Fabián’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Your eyes are beautiful. Right, Jodi?”
But Jodi wasn’t interested in Fabián or anything he had to say. She only had eyes for Lee. Soaking him with more of her alcohol-breath, she said, “This place is noisy. Would you like to go to a quieter place?”
“Not really.” Lee pushed her arm off his torso. He tried to shift away from her but Fabián was seated too close to him. When Lee nudged Fabián to move, all his friend did was give him an evil grin and shift the wrong way, forcing Lee closer to Handsy Jodi.
Beneath his breath, Lee muttered, “I’m going to kill you when we get out of here.”
“You can certainly try.” Fabián laughed as he brought his beer-bottle to his lips for a quick gulp.
Jodi grabbed Lee’s arm to yank his attention to her. She whispered loudly, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to a quieter place?”
“I’m sure.”
“Even if I offer to make it worth your while?” She tried to wink at him but it ended up as a weird face contortion that left Lee wincing.
Damn! She would regret this in the morning.
“Stop!” A sudden shout pulled Lee’s attention from Jodi’s antics to the stairs that led up to the third floor.
Just then, a tall, slender, black woman wearing a gray bomber-jacket over a black tee and black jeans and carrying a tube-like bag over one shoulder hurtled down the stairs.
“Stop.” The two men, who came rushing down the stairs behind her, yelled. “Stop.”
But the woman was as swift as a panther and quickly outpaced them as she weaved her way between tables. Unfortunately, the men’s shouts had attracted the attention of the three bouncers manning their floor.
Lee shot to his feet when he saw one of the bouncers step right in the path of the woman. He wasn’t sure whether he stood to protect the woman, to help the bouncer or to better see what was happening. Either way, the woman’s next actions froze him.
In a move that Lee had only seen done by stunt-men and in movies, the woman’s hand shot forward in a slashing motion and hit the bouncer’s throat. The bouncer staggered backwards, clasping his throat. His strangled cry echoed above the shocked gasps of the patrons. Before he could recover, she slipped past him.
When a second bouncer stepped towards her, she pulled the bag off her shoulder and smacked him in the head with it. While the bouncer was distracted by the hit, she drove him backwards with a hard, swift kick to the stomach. Her expression impassive, she slung her bag back on her shoulder.
Moses on a motorcycle! Lee’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He’d never seen a woman fight like that. His colleagues were just as surprised because most mouths were half open as they watched her come closer. The closer she got, the more beautiful Lee realized that she was. Already, she had the model-like, lanky figure going. Add in the dark chocolate smooth skin and almond-shaped eyes and they had a winner. How in the world had a beautiful woman like her become such a deadly fighter?
Along with his awe at her beauty came an odd sense of familiarity. Like he’d seen her before. Had he seen her before? No. No way. There is no way in hell he would’ve forgotten a woman like her.
Just as she was about to pass their table, the third bouncer started towards her. He was a little way ahead of her while the two suited-men who were chasing her initially were behind her. Basically, she was between them.
“Hey, lady, you can stop running now,” One of the suited men yelled out as they approached her with victorious smirks.
“You can’t beat us all,” the bouncer added. “And don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re a woman.”
The woman’s gaze shifted from the suited men to the bouncer then back to the suited men. Then she smiled.
Lee’s heart bumped in his chest. Something about that smile told him that she was about to do something he’d remember for a lifetime. And she did. In a deft move, she vaulted onto their table. He, Fabián, Jodi and the other crew members around the table, reared back in surprise. Before anyone could stop her, she edged closer to the railing and looked down.
Lee already knew what she would see. The dance-floor down, down, down below them.
She turned back to her pursuers and gave them a cheeky salute… then she jumped.
Oh. My. God. From that height?
Was she trying to break a leg, or worse, kill herself? Sharp intakes of breath, ‘ohs’ and ‘shit’ rent the air as everyone, including Lee, moved to the railing. Lee expected to see the woman splattered on the floor below them, but there was no splatter, human or otherwise. However, a second later, he found her. She was hanging from the bottom rail. Smoothly, she used her arms to move across the railing until she got to a pillar and deftly slid down to the first-floor. Then she did the vault, swing and slide thing again to end up on the ground-floor.
Weaving her way past dancers, who knew nothing of the gymnastic feats she’d performed, she headed to the exit. No one stopped her this time.
For a moment, Lee was frozen, unable to believe what he’d just seen. Then instinct took over. He raced away from the table, past her shocked pursuers, and down the stairs. He couldn’t vault over railings or slide down pillars like Miss Beautiful and Dangerous, but, damn it, he used to run track. Within minutes, he was at the club’s exit.
The cold, night air smacked him in the face when he emerged on the street. Panting, he looked left and right, searching for the woman. All he saw was two bouncers groaning on the floor and shocked revelers asking them if they were okay.
She was nowhere to be seen.
“Damn!” Lee cussed. What he wouldn’t have given to have gotten that lady’s number.
Damn!