Lincoln Gets Smart for Two Seconds

 

This time, I was smart. Well, for two seconds I was smart. I knew the time, the place, the security detail. I had my bribes in place. The works. Marilyn went to the job with another detail assigned by Petra, and as far as Petra was concerned I was out of the loop. Marilyn knew I’d be there, though. I’d always been there, and I was not going to let her have a Maldonado Part Three without me. I hated it, but if she was going to earn this money, she was going to do it under my protection, whether Petra allowed it or not.

But I didn’t need to cold cock good security. That was sloppy, and poor planning on my part. I wouldn’t make the same mistake.

This time, I was in a room two rooms down from the suite, the brothers had set up for their time with Marilyn. I was intercepting the security that Petra had set up. No one knew I was there, but I piggybacked the video signals, and my monitors were seeing and hearing everything her monitors caught.

Petra’s official team for Marilyn was back down to one man. I didn’t know the guy. I watched from a distance as he picked her up and drove her to The Diamond. I didn’t follow. I wanted to be in my location in the hotel before they were so I wouldn’t be spotted and thrown out.

Although I didn’t know this new bodyguard, I had to admit I did trust Petra. She hired the best. It was probably okay. But I was too far gone on worry about Marilyn to leave her to “probably okay.”

I flipped on the monitors and the rooms were empty. The seating area, the kitchen, the master bath; all of it the same as the last time, but this was a new room. And what the cameras picked up in the master bedroom had me furious before she even arrived.

Did Petra get extra? Was Marilyn prepared?

The room was a full-on setup for BDSM. This was no vanilla tag team like she’d experienced before. This was designed to have Marilyn strapped in, hooked up, and at the mercy of whatever Frankie and Dom were into. Pain was the point for this little room, and I was certain this was not Petra approved.

Sure, there were some associates that might take on BDSM, but Leslie Detweiler, nay, Marilyn Fields was NOT one of them. She’d just told me her fear of just a blindfold. And it was justified.

I forced myself to inhale and exhale as white dots of rage threatened to impair my vision. Maybe this room wasn’t for tonight. Maybe some other woman in their Rolodex got this lucky gig.

But I knew it was for her. I knew that’s what Frankie really wanted when he booked her, every time he booked her. He needed this to get off. The rumor mill had this very thing slithering around the edges with Franco. I was sure that overseas. Where the cops were easier to pay off Franco Maldonado was taking his pleasure and pain to a fatal conclusion.

A few minutes later, The Brothers Maldonado escorted Marilyn in. They’d greeted her in the lobby, so they could parade her around the gaming tables and let everyone see their latest acquisition.

The two of them were kissing her, being gentle, from what I could see as they guided her from further into the suite. They explained that they missed her, that they were glad I was fired, that they were going to take good care of her.

She sank sweetly into their attentions, it was difficult for her to stand with two men pawing all over her, braced by one, as the other lavished kisses and caresses on her. I tried not to look at each hand, mouth, grope, and instead stood on guard for whether or not they were planning to strap her into the equipment in the next room.

Marilyn didn’t appear to be seeing or hearing much. She rubbed her hands through their hair, gripped shoulders, arms, and was enveloped in them. Her eyes were mostly closed, as they slowly maneuvered her into the BDSM room. The pace of my heart quickened. She wasn’t seeing her surroundings because they were her surroundings.

It didn’t register with her at first. The room was dark, and up until that moment it probably looked like the other suites she’d been in with them and with Donny.

But as they stripped away her gown, trailing their fingers with licks and bites, I could see her eyes scan the room. In the center was a table with leather buckles and straps, a bar suspended from the ceiling. Marilyn’s eyes began to dart from object to object. Her once-smooth motions with Dom and Frankie turned halting. She never once resisted at any point of any of the experiences I’d observed her in. She was always compliant, aroused, and eager to please at every stage she’d ever encountered with her clients.

That had changed. It was clear she was skittish as she took in the accessories they had at the ready.

I believed I was seeing her hard limit. Being bound and blindfolded was what her uncle did to her. She’d told me that she hated it on our trip. And then there it was.

She pulled back from both of them and they tightened their grip on her. I was a blink away from moving in but she settled herself and eventually got on the table in the center of the room without struggle.

I had promised her I’d be there, but would let her do her job unless she asked for my help. I cursed myself again that she’d never once shared with me a safe word. It hadn’t been an issue because of my hair trigger with her.

Franco grabbed her arm and strapped it in. She started to shrink from his touch, which was so out of character to what she’d displayed up to now. She was having a hard time suppressing her fear. This, of course, made Franco perfectly happy.

She’d gone from submissive to resistant, and I had gone from logic to near rage. Sick Franco loved it this way.

As Franco tightened a belt-style buckle around her wrist, Dom grabbed her other wrist and began to do the same.

They worked their way to her legs.

“I don’t want this. Please don’t tie me up.” It was the first time I’d ever heard her say no. She said it sweetly, hoping they’d be reasonable and listen to her.

“That’s what makes it fun for Franco,” Dom said, as he tugged on her straps. She was now splayed on the table and struggling against the restraints. Not a full-on panic, but she was trying to slide away. Franco walked over and picked something up from a drawer. It was a blindfold.

“Maybe if you can’t see, you’ll relax. But of course, I don’t care either way.” Marilyn thrashed her head back and forth trying to avoid the blindfold.

“No.”

“Keep saying that,” Franco instructed her. And at the last moment, before Franco covered her eyes, she looked up. I’d told her where all the cameras were. She knew that in practically every setup, cameras were mounted in the center of the ceiling.

Marilyn stopped moving and looked up at the camera, at me.

“Lincoln.” It was a whisper as the blindfold went over her eyes.

Rage replaced vision in my eyes as I finally knew her safe word.

It was me.

I knew what I did to Donny Barchek. I knew what I did to the waiter.

I do not know exactly what I did to Franco.

I smashed into the room without much difficulty and through the brothers.

 It’s not that Dom Maldonado was soft or weak. He seemed to be neither. The one good cut I later discovered on my brow line was probably from the punch he landed. But I had a mission. While Dom worked through the pain I doled out to him in the corner of the room, Franco got his.

He wasn’t happy that I wanted to interrupt his torture-Marilyn fantasy. He was fiercer than his brother and more committed to keeping Marilyn it appeared, but no match for me.

I decided I’d had enough of his bullshit when I heard Marilyn yell for me again, still strapped and blindfolded.

Okay, no more punching. I choked him out, and he went down hard.

I went to Marilyn.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m getting you out of this.” As I worked to free Marilyn from the straps, Petra’s security arrived.

She was in my arms, and I was carrying her out of the room of pain as Petra’s hired guard walked in. He had a gun pointed at my face.

“Took you long enough.”

“You’re McCall. Petra warned me you might ruin this job for Marilyn.” This kid was young, he looked tough, but still young, fresh meat for Petra’s ranks.

“Here’s the thing. Was BDSM a part of the contract? Were you told that was the gig?” I calmly asked while Marilyn remained safely in my arms, her head pressed against my shoulder.

“No, but nothing happened,” he replied, “there’s not a scratch on her.”

“Yet. You don’t LET anything happen if you hear a safe word.”

“So your name is her safe word? No offense lady, but that’s fucked up. If you don’t put her down, Lincoln, and let me take her out of here, this could get very messy.”

“It already is.” He still had the gun pointed at my face.

“Lincoln, put me down.” Marilyn was back to herself and took in the situation. Dom and Franco were out cold behind us, and Petra’s trained muscle was in front of us.

“Bret. I’m going with you,” she said.

“What? Do you really think you should be calling the shots in your current state?” Did she just say she was going with Bret? His name was Bret? She looked down to see she was still nude, save a thong.

“Put me down.” I did what she instructed. “And stop with the gun, Bret.” Bret looked as confused as I felt, and he lowered the gun slightly.

Marilyn walked to the spot on the floor where she balled up dress had landed in a heap. She didn’t hide herself or seem unsure. It was the most confident I’d ever seen her. She quickly shimmied into the dress and put her back to me to zip it. I did.

“Lincoln, meet me in an hour. Petra’s office. Bret, let’s go. Lincoln, you need to get out of here too, and fast.” A calm and commanding woman had emerged out of the most unlikely situation. She strode over to Bret and took his hand. His look of victory was grating, but I couldn’t deny it was time to get the hell out of The Diamond.

We had gone our separate ways before Franco and Dom emerged from their siesta, courtesy of Lincoln McCall.

 I spent the hour looking at the rear view of my truck and debating whether I needed a butterfly stitch from the cut over my eye from Dom. I also called in a marker with the maid staff at The Diamond and had them disassemble my equipment. That was going to cost me five grand. The bills were piling up.

I had no idea what Marilyn was playing at, why she wanted to go to Petra’s, but in the end, I did what she wanted. I always did what she wanted.

 

 

 

So there we were, at midnight, sitting in front of calm, but pissed off Petra.

“I am sure you understand you’ve jeopardized Vallin Consulting’s relationship with a very important client, Miss Fields.” Petra aimed her icy stare at Marilyn. Marilyn didn’t blink.

“And the last time I saw you, I warned you to stay away. The next call I make is to the police, Abe.” She aimed at me with her smart blue eyes.

“So be it.” I wouldn’t do anything different, so Petra’s threat didn’t really worry me. I was probably headed for jail without her help, seeing as Donny and the waiter were still missing.

Petra exhaled, seemingly just tired of dealing with me, she was calm and somehow the sternness replaced with was it amusement? I wasn’t sure. She turned back to Marilyn. She swallowed. And Petra Vallin pulled her shit together and yanked a business meeting from the jaws of human drama.

“Marilyn. Believe it or not, you have a new offer on the table. It came in right after you bailed on the brothers. It’s actually a step closer to where I want this company to be. But, as has every job I’ve offered to you, it is up to you.” She looked at me with that last part lest I forget that Petra’s associates were not victims. They were in charge of their destiny, usually.

“I’m listening.” Marilyn tried to match Petra, but it was no use. She was young, and try as she might, her voice was more Betty Boop than Joan Crawford.

“Lorenz Maldonado.”

“Another one?” I blurted.

“Lorenz is the oldest of the brothers. As much as Dom and Franco play like they’re in charge, it is Lorenz that could control the casinos and the hotels, worldwide. He’s the only one as smart as daddy.”

“And as ruthless.” I chimed it.

“Lincoln, shut it,” Petra said.

“So what’s the offer?” Marilyn asked.

“Lorenz has seen you with his brothers. He hates them to have anything nicer than what he has. He’ll offer a million bucks for one week.” Marilyn didn’t react to the huge sum of money on the table. Instead, she sat up, squared her shoulders, and damn didn’t that make her look gorgeous in that dress. She looked like a million bucks at least.

“Here are my terms.” Marilyn’s voice may not have had Petra’s steel, but her eyes did and her spine, well it was strong as Petra’s. Was I seeing something I had missed or something new, forged in the last few hours?

“I don’t do blindfolds. I don’t do BDSM. I don’t do three ways. I do sexy one-on-one, maybe a girl now and then, but that’s it. They’re paying to be with Marilyn Monroe, not Jenna Jamison.”

It was authoritative, definitive, and smart. And Petra noticed.

“Ohh. I like this part of you.” Petra was impressed, and so was I, but I was also really worried: had she hardened? Was she still her? The job changes everyone, and it is just a matter of time.

“Thank you, Petra. And Lincoln is my security.”

“That’s not an option. He’s unreliable. I can’t keep him on in my business.”

“He’s my security or we don’t do million-dollar dates.” The two women locked eyes and engaged in a little test of wills. I knew one thing right then, either one could destroy me. No amount of muscle or pain tolerance could get you through what the eyes, the brains, and dammit the curves, of these women, would put a man through.

Petra blinked.

“Fine. Is that okay with you, Abe? Can you handle being Marilyn’s security, no job interruptions, at least until the police arrest you?”

“I’ll worry about the police.”

“They will not be able to connect you to me, by the way. In case, you’re hoping to drag me into it.”

“I know your tracks are covered Petra. I wouldn’t think you’d do anything less.”

Marilyn interrupted, “If you two are finished threatening each other, I have one more condition.”

“Yes,” Petra asked. The corners of her mouth were threatening to curl into a smile at Marilyn’s new-found voice. Petra respected strength.

“Two million.”

“Two million dollars for your services?” And that did it. A full smile broke out on Petra’s face. Marilyn’s strength was vindication that I was overly protective.

“Yes.”

“That’s a very steep price. I currently do not charge that for any of our associates. I will contact Lorenz, but you may be pricing yourself out of work.” I secretly hoped she was.

“Tell Lorenz that’s the price, period. Marilyn is worth more than Jenna, at least twice as much.” She was driving a hard bargain, and it was spectacular.

Then she broke from negotiations to look at me. “Lincoln, can you wait for me at the truck? There’s a private, well, technical question, pertaining to, well just, can you wait?” It sounded like some female bullshit, and as long as I was back officially in charge of Marilyn’s security I didn’t need to be in on those details.

I didn’t like Marilyn out of my sight, but she’d just gone a long way to proving she could handle herself.

“Sure. Nice working with you, Petra. I’ll take my normal 15 percent fee for this next job.”

“Good day, Abe. And Abe, no more surprises.”

“Sure.”

I left the two of them alone for a moment.

Marilyn emerged a few minutes later and I drove her home. I was in awe of her dealings with a woman I knew to be the toughest negotiator on the planet. Marilyn stayed in bossy mode and ordered me in.

“Come in so I can clean up your eye.”

I sat in her kitchen as she dabbed alcohol on the gash that bled a lot, but didn’t look too bad in the end.

“That stings.”

“Don’t be a baby.”

“Here, I’m going to put a Band-Aid on it. I hope you like flowers. These have flowers on them.”

“Great.” Marilyn was back in her fuzzy robe, the one I’d seen the first time I arrived on her doorstep. She leaned over me, and the view was more than I could take. I loved her softness. Though the last hour or so she displayed tough edge that I’d only seen hints of when she talked about taking care of her dad.

I grabbed her. I didn’t think about it; a man has limits. Mine was her, right then, taking care of my bloody eye in her fuzzy robe.

I pressed my lips on hers and dragged her to my lap. I slid the shoulders of her robe down and exposed her perfect breasts. She kissed me back and it was better than the hundreds of dreams I’d had about it, a thousand times better. Her tongue darted out and mine circled hers.

She was pressed up against me, straddling me. I pulled the softness of her as close as I could.

Her phone rang loud. I don’t know how many times. But it eventually pulled her lips from mine.

“That’s Petra,” she whispered. Fucking Petra, she knew, I swear she knew how to mess with my life lately.

“I have to get it.” Marilyn peeled herself off my lap. I was doing deep breathing not to smash the phone she’d just picked up.

“Wonderful. Yes. Thank you.”

“Well?” I asked.

“Two million. Twenty-four hours.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, Lorenz tomorrow night. She’s emailing you the security details.”

“Great.”

The air between us was charged. I tried not to be angry. This kind of money was unprecedented for her. If I could manage not to lose it and she could put on the best show of her life, she’d be set for her dad.

Part of not murdering Lorenz Maldonado for touching her would be stopping what I’d just started here in her kitchen.

If we were together, if I took her like I wanted, wanted more than any other thing, I wouldn’t be able to let her take the job, I couldn’t. It would be impossible for me. I knew it. So I stood up.

“I better go. I’ve got work to do. That is not enough time to do a proper setup.”

“You always say that. Please don’t go.” I always did what she wanted. I wanted it too, to stay.

“Sorry doll. We’ve got work to do.” I resisted the urge to kiss her again. Down that road were more jealousy and overprotective, counter-productive, bullshit on my part.

“Good night, Lincoln,” I heard her call as I walked out, still hard as hell and wanting her more than I ever had. My dreams were going to be torture if I slept tonight. But I had to get away from her and the way I felt around her.

“Lock your door,” I said, as I climbed into my truck and slammed the door.

I’d start work. That I could do.

As I pulled into the neighborhood to scout Lorenz’s residence, a detail provided by Petra, my phone buzzed again. I hoped it was Marilyn, maybe a good night call?

I did recognize the number, but bad news was at the other end.

“How’s this going to look to the cops?” read the text from the familiar number.

I clicked open the video, and there I was beating the shit out of Franco. I waited for it. It had become a familiar pattern.

Sure enough, my phone vibrated again and there was a second text with a link to a news story.

Billionaire casino heir missing, brother fears murder, read the breaking news headline. Franco’s picture was next to the story.

Fuck. Franco was the latest of guys I didn’t kill turning up missing, with no one but me to blame.