Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (9 page)

I laughed as he poured the shimmering pale red liquid into a martini glass. “Really? I never got the sense you loved that dog.”

Bobby looked up at me as he shook the final drops into my glass. He shrugged with one shoulder.

“Your third wife?”

“Yes.”

“Last?”

“You never know,” he said pushing the glass over to me. I sipped off the top millimeter.

“Probably for the best, the divorce, I mean. Pammy and Bobby, you always did sound like a prom queen and king from the 50s.”

He laughed. “I, my dear, graduated high school in the 70s.”

I shrugged and sipped my drink.

Leaning his elbows on the bar and bringing his face closer to mine he continued, “You would have loved the 70s.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, they were wild. Everything went.”

“And that’s what you think I’m into?”

“I know it is.” He leaned back and reaching under the counter pulled out a bottle of Bourbon. “Seems unfair doesn’t it?” he asked.

“What?”

“That men can do whatever they want, sexually, and be considered masculine but a woman does anything to impinge her reputation and she’s a slut.”

I raised my eyebrows wondering if he had my room bugged. “All those wives and lovers but no children?” I asked, changing the subject.

He shook his head. “You’re getting personal this evening,” he said while he filled a crystal tumbler with ice.

“I’m trying to understand you. Mulberry says I should give you a chance.”

“He’s right.”

“Really,” I leaned on the bar and twirled the stem of my glass. “What about you trying to kill me and my friends? Did they have orders to kill Blue as well?”

I looked up at him and he paused from pouring whisky over ice. “I was very angry,” he said and when he looked up from the glass there was a flash in his eyes, a hint of that rage still bubbling beneath. “I realize now it was misplaced. You had not betrayed me.”

When I didn’t respond he put down the bottle and continued. “I am rarely fooled. I didn’t like the feeling. I’m sorry.”

I thought about how I’d fallen for Ana Maria’s bullshit, too. I hadn’t liked the feeling but I didn’t try to kill her. Robert did. And, honestly, I didn’t mind. “What would you have done?” he asked quietly. “I thought you’d killed my friends and kidnapped their child.”

I sipped my drink. “And now you want what from me?”

A bell rang and Bobby looked up. “Dinner is ready,” he said.

The dining room was formal with high backed chairs, a long rectangular table, candles flickering down its center. There were two places set, one at the head and one to its right. Bobby pulled my chair out for me and, as I sat, he pushed it in. Blue went under the table and laid down, resting his chin on my foot. Bobby sat at the head of the table. A maid came in, dressed for the part in a knee length powder blue uniform and apron. Her black hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a tight bun and she smiled at me as she placed my tequila gimlet by my side. After bringing Bobby his whisky, she left the room, closing the door behind her. The walls were cloth I noticed, buffering the sound. “You have a lot of parties in here?” I asked.

Bobby sipped from his drink before answering. “Yes, a fair number. In our business there is quite a bit of entertaining.”

“Our business?” I asked. “You think we’re in the same business?”

He laughed softly and sat back in his chair. “You really think we are so different? That you’re so much more noble than me?” I bit my lip. “I love it when you do that,” he said and leaned forward quickly, his movements suddenly animal like. His smooth speed reminded me how careful I needed to be around this man.

“We’re not alike,” I said, forcing myself not to pull away from him, to meet his eyes.

He smiled slowly, his lips sliding over teeth that gleamed in the soft candlelight. The maid returned and he sat back. She placed salads in front of each of us and then left again. “Would you like to switch to wine?” Bobby asked me.

“No, this is fine.” I picked up my drink and sipped, letting the liquor curl around my mouth, and clenched my jaw. 

“Have you read Machiavelli?” Bobby asked.

I put down my drink and shook my head. “No, but I know the general theme about means and ends.”

“Yes, that the ends justify the means is a tenet of his philosophy but it is more nuanced than that.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a slim paperback book. “I saw this in a used book store the other day and thought of you. I hope you can accept another gift from me.” He placed the thin treatise next to my plate.
The Prince
by Machiavelli. I reached out and touched its worn cover but didn’t answer. He placed his hand over mine and I quickly withdrew it.

“If you think anything is going to happen between us tonight you’re fucking nuts,” I said.

He laughed. “God, I love that about you.”

“You keep talking about things you love about me and I’m going to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” He put his hands up in the air. “I’ll be better.”

“Why don’t we just cut the crap and you tell me what it is you want from me. What are your ends, Maxim?”

“I want you to work with me.”

“With you, who works with you? Is the lady in the maid uniform working with you or
for
you. I don’t work for anyone anymore.”

“Sydney, when I first met you all I wanted was to fuck you.” He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, the whisky held lightly in one of his elegant hands. “But as I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to realize how special you really are.”

“You don’t know me,” I shot back.

He smiled. “Not as well as I’d like to. But well enough that I know I want you on my side. Sydney, I could see you running Fortress Global when I retire.”

My jaw dropped.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“That is entirely insane.”

“Why?”

“I wouldn’t run it like you.”

“No, what would you do differently?” He smiled and sipped from his whisky glass, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “You can’t hide from me and why would you want to? I like what I see, all of it.”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust you.”

“I like that, too. And I’m willing to work for your trust. Don’t make any decisions now. Let’s clear Hugh’s name, you’ll see what kind of an organization we are, what we can do, and you might like it.”

I wanted to accuse him of setting the whole thing up, of dragging me here and using Hugh as a magnet but I held my tongue and turned to my salad instead. “Do you know much about Miami history?” Bobby asked, breaking the silence between us.

“No.”

“It wasn’t founded until 1896…” As he started to share the history of his city, developed by an enterprising railroad tycoon, I thought of Kurt Jessup’s lecture to me on New York right before the bastard attempted to strangle me to death.

“You have a lot in common with Kurt, don’t you?” I asked, interrupting him.

He paused, fork raised in the air, a beet skewered in its tongs. “We were friends and for a long time I thought we wanted the same thing but I was wrong.”

I sneered. “Wrong?”

Bobby put down his fork. “He liked pain, that’s not my game. I like control, often both desires express themselves similarly. You’re more like me, control is what you’re after.”

“I just want to live a quiet life.”

“No, you don’t,” he smiled at me. “Not in the least. You want to control things, you want to make them right, as you see it. So do I.”

“You’re fighting for what’s right?”

“As I see it.”

“You seem more motivated by money and power than good.”

“Who says they have to be mutually exclusive?”

“Laws of nature.”

“Ah, now you want to talk about the laws of nature? Let me ask you this then. Who made the wretched so wretched? God?”

“I don’t believe in God, and if I did, I’d think he was a real prick. If God’s the one fucking with us I’d like to kick him in his nuts.”

He laughed. “I bet you’d get him. But, if not God, who or what is doing it then?”

“Men like you,” I said before I could stop myself.

“You think I’m that powerful?”

“I know you are. You can make people disappear. Look what you’ve done for me.”

“Yes,” he smiled. “Look at what I did for you. I’m glad we can both recognize the favors I’ve bestowed on you.”

The door opened with a swish against the carpeted floor and the maid reentered, clearing our plates. “Wine, please,” Bobby said to her without taking his eyes off me. The flames from the candles flickered, casting shadows across his face, dancing like jesters for his amusement. The woman nodded and left us again.

Bobby leaned forward. “We were talking about the favors I’ve done for you.”

“Favors?” I sat forward matching his posture.

“I suppose I should feel lucky you have not retaliated,” he said.

I didn’t answer but nodded slightly.

His lips slid back into that smile, the one where he looked like a snake and a panther all wrapped up into one venomous dangerous creature. “You’re probably right,” he said. “I should be careful with you.” He licked his lips. “Sydney, I’d like to watch you go for anything, even if it’s my life. Passion suits you.”

My dress suddenly felt too tight, the candles too close, my chair too small. I took several deep breaths, steadying myself. The door opened again and I sat back, smiling at the maid as she placed a plate with lamb chops, scalloped potatoes, and cooked spinach in front of me. “I hope you like lamb,” Bobby said. “Some people have an ethical objection to it.”

Before I could answer, Claude came in. Robert looked up at him and they shared a silent communication. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to take a phone call.”

“You know what?” I said, standing. “That’s fine. I’m gonna go.” Blue came out from under the table, his ears perked, watching me closely.

Robert stood as well, buttoning his suit jacket. “If you must.”

“Yeah, I think it’s best,” I said with a smile.

“Please, keep the car.”

I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off.

“At least until you leave Miami,” he smiled. “Please.” He reached down and picked up the copy of
The Prince.
“Don’t forget this.”

I took it from him. “Fine,” I said, taking a step back, Blue staying close. “I can show myself out.”

He nodded. “As you wish.”

#

I
pulled open the large wooden door, feeling strange without an escort. Like I was sneaking out, leaving without my host’s permission. But there was part of me that knew that was impossible. Bobby could do what he wanted. I was free because that’s how he wanted me. For now.

Blue jumped over my seat and into the passenger side. I pushed the button in the center console, the Audi’s lights lit the drive and its engine turned on with a rumble that suggested power and strength. It filled me with a sense of success, a feeling that somehow I’d made it, and I understood why people bought expensive cars. They weren’t just for show. They were for real.

I hit the gas and my tires squealed as I pulled out of the driveway. The gate was open and I turned back onto the main road, past the park, and right up to the gatehouse. For a moment I wondered if the arm would rise. I slowed down and rolled toward the barrier at an idle. It began to move with a jerk and I pushed the gas, not waiting for the arm to reach its apex before leaving the island behind.

I decided to head back to the hotel because I didn’t know what else to do. The trip was short and I left the Audi where I’d gotten it, sitting in the hotel’s drive. The valet smiled at me knowingly. It had all been arranged. I was special.

Blue and I went up to the room. I took off the dress and walked into the bathroom wearing just my bra, panties, and knife. I took a moment to look in the mirror, to make eye contact, to try to ground myself within myself. ‘I was not like Bobby Maxim’ I wanted to hear back from my reflection. I was different. Better. But the look that came back didn’t make anything clearer. My gray eyes looked dangerous, impervious.

A knock at the door broke my gaze. I grabbed a robe, wrapping myself up in it, as I went to answer.

D
an started talking as soon as I opened the door.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t come here to fight with you.” He looked down at Blue who pushed his muzzle against Dan’s thigh. Looking back at me, his head still bent down, he continued, “I need to tell you something. It’s important and I, I guess it’s still just a little rawer than I thought.” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at me, looking like a boy who’d done wrong.

“Fine,” I said, stepping aside. “Come in.” I pushed the door open wider and he entered.

“Want a drink?” I asked.

“Sure, thanks.”

I went over to the bar and grabbed a mini bottle of Maker’s Mark, tossing it to him. He caught it and unscrewed the cap, the cracking of the plastic matching the tension in the room.

“So what did you need to tell me?” I asked as I watched him take a sip, his lips wrapping around the small opening.

He brought the bottle down and took a breath before answering. “Joyful Justice is happening.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, feeling a chill in my gut.

“Me, some others. We’re doing it with or without you.”

“When was this decided?” I asked, the coldness spreading to my limbs.

“Does it matter when?”

I didn’t answer, my mind reeling. It felt like I’d been sucked out of a plane, the world depressurized, whirling out of control, falling quickly down.

“The point is we want to help with Hugh,” Dan continued. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out folded sheets of paper. Holding them up he said, “I got some info on Robert Maxim if you want to see.”

He unfolded the paper and sat on the couch. Dan patted the seat next to him and smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I didn’t move. “On paper he looks like a pretty good guy,” Dan said, looking down at his notes.

“Wait,” I said, holding out a palm. Dan paused. “When did this happen?”

Dan licked his lips. “When we were in India.”