The Protector (29 page)

“You’re late.” The man’s accent was heavy. “I don’t like people who are late.”

Stefan took a couple of steps into the room, keeping his hands by his sides. There were four other men in the room, armed and ready. He signaled for his man to follow and waited patiently as two of the guards searched them. They took away the few weapons they could find.

“These will be returned to you when the meeting is over,” one of them told him.

Stefan nodded, keeping his eyes on the one sitting at the table, drinking beer. “I’m a busy man. There are many people in town who are in need of my services right now.” He stood where he was, letting the other man decide what he
wanted him to do. He could feel the tension. Someone was in a very bad mood, and from the bottles on the floor, alcohol wasn’t helping rid him of it. “It would have been easier for me if you had made this meeting there instead of here.”

“You brought only one man. You’re either confident or stupid.”

“He’s my interpreter. I’m a middleman in Southeast Asia. Since you’re from the former Yugoslavia, I wasn’t sure whether you could speak English or any of the local dialects well enough and misunderstandings in this region can be deadly.” He purposely did not let Dilaver know where he came from and why he was there.

“So now you’re saying you came here alone. Again, either confident or stupid.”

They studied each other, gauging strengths and weaknesses. Stefan was used to it. Trust wasn’t exactly a strong commodity in this business. When engaging with a potential new associate, especially one new to the territory, one had to figure out quickly whether his word could be trusted. This individual was discovering that, too.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man said, as he opened three bottles of beer. “You have different names. Over in Kosovo, you’re known as Ice. Here, I suppose they don’t think that’s a tough name, what with it being so damn hot and sticky all the time. Ice easily melts, doesn’t give the connotation of how cool you are under fire. Over here,
my
interpreter says they call you Ghost Lightning. That is so…scary.”

The others followed their leader’s snort of laughter. Stefan still hadn’t moved from where he was standing. He was being challenged. What he said next could either make or break whatever deal was in his opponent’s head.

“I’ve also heard a lot about you, Dragan Dilaver,” Stefan said. “You were just an underling KLA thug when I left Europe. You’ve done well since the war.”

Dilaver shrugged. “Sit down. Beer? I’m afraid these
are”—he gestured, looking for the words—“American shit-water. No one around here eats or drinks right.”

Stefan joined Dilaver at the table. His man remained by the door. “He doesn’t drink while he’s working,” he explained to Dilaver easily.

“Good man.” Dilaver took a swig. “I don’t trust any of these slant-eyes anymore, not after what happened. That’s why I chose you.”

Stefan nodded. “I understand the comfort level.”

“You know your way around here. You speak their language.”

“It’s a plus.”

Dilaver took another swig. “My first mistake. I thought an interpreter and I could do this, but I need someone in this area, who knows the ins and outs, who understands whatever the fucking rules are around here.”

“There aren’t any.” Stefan took a drink from his bottle. “The Triads rule these parts. Or at least the second brother.”

“But there’s something going on in town. My man told me there are some big names meeting up. How is it that the Triads allow them there?”

Stefan cocked a brow. “You’re full of questions, Dilaver. Your man told me you have a business deal to discuss with me and I came without any questions. Suppose you tell me why you need me.”

It was the other man’s turn to raise his brows. “Need? That is a weak word.”

Stefan shrugged. “You need me because the Triads are looking for you. That little bit of news is no secret. They have men looking for you everywhere.”

“They reneged on a business deal. Like I said, there are these big names in town, people who deal in Europe. Arithmetic is still the same in this part of the world, isn’t it? Two and two makes the Triads wanting my weapons to do business with the visitors. My question is—why? I took a lot of trouble working out this deal with them, took a long trip to
come here for a vacation, and it’s been hell so far.” Dilaver finished his beer and carelessly threw the empty bottle on the floor. He barked something in Slavic at one of the men. He picked up another bottle. “I’ll make this simple for you. You’re the middleman. Cash. American dollars.”

The man came back with a small briefcase and laid it on the table. He snapped it open. Stefan looked at the greenbacks stacked neatly inside.

“In case you didn’t know, the Triads are in the business of women and drugs. The eldest brother deals with piracy and smuggling. He’s known for international slavery. The Southeast Asian oceans are filled with his thugs.” Stefan gestured at his interpreter with his beer. “Another brother lives in the States. My man here deals with him and reports to me. Same things—gambling, women, drugs. The brother here—the one you were meeting—is small-time. He is regional and has been working to expand his power base.” He was the weakest link and that was why Stefan had chosen to come here. “He allows any activities in his territories as long as you give him coffee money.”

“Coffee money?” Dilaver looked at his interpreter for explanation.

Stefan’s man answered first. “Bribery, payments, rents…permission money. You pay the Triads for the right to do business in their territory.”

The Slavic thug nodded, thoughtfully eyeing the man at the door. “I don’t hear anything about weapons. This brother wanted weapons.”

“Perfect timing,” Stefan said. “He had accepted the coffee money to let a group of arms dealers in town to do business. He can’t have a foothold in the industry unless he has some weapons to move himself. He buys it from you and shows up at the meeting. Like I said, he wants more power. Sibling competition is also common around here.”

“He owes me a big sum of delivery money. I intend to collect it,” Dilaver said, his voice deadly.

“You claim he attacked you.”

“I have lost…enough about what I lost. I’m sure you know the details already. I’m leaving this damn place with a loss.”

“I’ve heard about the incident at the bridge,” Stefan acknowledged. “I deal with arms. I have had no dealings with the Triad drug business so if you want their drugs, I can’t help you.”

“I don’t need you to do that for me. I just need some information in exchange for that cash. My second mistake was to want to start international arms dealing with a slant-eye. I got bored of politics back home and thought a few days with some Asian females…” Dilaver shrugged and drank down his beer. “I suppose it’s the same in any business. A few days of pleasure and make some deals. I obviously dealt with the wrong brother. Maybe I should talk to your man over there. He’s got the right contacts.”

Stefan smiled humorlessly. “Is that what you asked me here for?”

“No. This cash is for you for one thing and one thing only. And, I intend to have enough leftover weapons for you to play middleman for me at this meeting. I can’t go, not with the Triads looking for me and my weapons, but you can.” Dilaver raised his beer bottle.
“Salute.”

Stefan looked at the crisp new cash in the suitcase. “Fifty percent. You keep the weapons till I make the deal. The money will be electronically transferred to a Kosovo account of your choice.”

“Thirty percent. I have already taken a hit.”

“Forty. And the information for the cash.”

“Thirty-five. All I want to know is how to have personal contact with the brother here.”

“You intend to do a double-cross?”

Dilaver set down his bottle. “He tried to get my weapons for free. Someone told me his clan members wear black clothing and the people who attacked us had black clothing on. But I’m interested in meeting this brother. I might even offer him some of my weapons to see how much he is will
ing to pay me. But I also intend to keep a lot of it for my own profit through you. So, are you in or out?”

“Thirty-eight, and I set up the meeting.”

“Done.”

Much later, driving back into town, Stefan turned to his interpreter. “That weapon he showed us—that’s proof that the United States is supplying him too much firepower. He’s using the sales to fund his own businesses.”

“Which is going to make the U.S. look like the bunch of idiots that they are.”

Stefan ignored that statement. Political opinions had nothing to do with his job. “You know what you have to do. I have to go set up this meeting with the Triads. Everything will be happening really quickly.”

“Yes.”

“Be ready for anything. I don’t trust Dilaver.”

“Is there anyone you can trust in this business?”

Stefan cracked a ghostly smile. “It’s a matter of what kind of trust. Do you trust them to not take your life when they feel like it? Never. Do you trust them to deliver what they promise? Most of the times, yes. I always deliver what I promise. Mr. Dilaver will meet with the Triad brother. I didn’t promise that the meeting will go well.”

Jazz glanced at Vivi several times as he drove. She
hadn’t said a word when he asked for the keys. After giving him directions to her address, she had been silent since questioning Rose’s father. He could tell her mind was far away; in fact, he doubted whether she cared if he was going the right direction.

He felt bad for her. He had gone into that gambling den with the cash she’d given him to use as “coffee money,” as she called it, and had done exactly as she had instructed, talking to the head thug and slipping him that envelope. Then, after being pointed the way, he had hauled that son of a bitch out of there without any trouble at all. Everyone had left him alone as Tham yelled and kicked.

Jazz grimly recalled Vivi’s demeanor. This was yet another side of her. As he had tightened his hold on the struggling little man, she had surprised both of them when she suddenly clamped a hand around Tham’s neck. A little telling squeeze and the man had gone limp with fear. Cold and calm, she had told Rose’s father exactly which points of his body she was going to hurt if he didn’t tell her what he had done to his daughter.

He couldn’t understand what the poor bastard said after that. Fear had robbed him of whatever broken English he
had, and the words that poured out were fast and frightened, pleading in tone. And as he watched, Vivi’s face turned pale. She had pursed her lips tightly, reining in her control even as he noted her clenched fist at her side.

“I would have broken his face, Vivi,” he said quietly.

She sighed. Her eyes stared blankly ahead. “What good would it have done? She’s gone and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

The slight catch in her voice tugged at his emotions. She hadn’t been just holding in her anger and frustration. His girl’s heart was broken, and she was trying so hard not to show it. He had never felt so helpless. Nothing he could say was going to help her.

“We’ve reached your place…where do I park?”

“Behind the building. Jazz?” She finally turned, and the pain in her eyes almost did him in. “Can you stay with me tonight? I can get T. to take you back to the compound or get someone to give you a ride. I just can’t—”

“Shhhhh…” He reached out and gently fingered her lips. “
Tais-toi, chouchou
, I’ll stay. The team knows where I am and there’s no lockdown yet.”

She nodded and sat back in her seat again. Jazz looked at her for a moment, then turned back to drive the car to the rear of the building. She got out and waited as he locked up. She then took his hand in hers. He followed quietly, letting her lead him wherever she wanted. He sensed her need to get into her apartment before she allowed herself to fall apart. Rose’s disappearance had really hit her very hard. His Vivi wasn’t one to easily break and she was very close to the edge right now.

Her apartment was small. She didn’t pause to turn on the lights and he didn’t really have time to look around casually anyway, his mind registering just the size, the way the furniture was laid out, the small kitchen to the left, as she pulled him toward the only place he was interested in. She pushed open the door, and the silken darkness reminded him of the
other night in the woods when she was also taking him by the hand like this.

Just the thought of her jumping his bones again had him hard. But he was torn. On the one hand, she needed him now. On the other, he didn’t want to be just comfort sex. He wanted so much more. He could walk with her to that bed over there right now and they would be tangled between the sheets in no time, and he knew she just wanted to go somewhere that would take away the pain she was going through.

That last thought dissolved all hesitation. Vivi in pain was unacceptable. He would figure out a way to get through to her. But right now, she needed him just to be here.

He turned her to him and slowly undid the buttons of her top, using his hands in the dark to give her the reassurance she was seeking. He kissed her softly as he slid her bra off her shoulders. She didn’t move, but her response was wild, almost desperate. Her pants fell to the floor, and, still kissing her, he nudged her toward the bed until she fell backward onto it.

She remained that way as he quickly shucked his clothes. His eyes had gotten used to the dark and he could see her soft outline on the pale sheets. When he came to her, he felt her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him forward.

He touched her and found her dry. She didn’t seem to care, her thighs clamping onto him insistently. She didn’t reach out with her arms or say anything, just silently imploring him.

Jazz shook his head in the dark. Her pain was his, even if she wasn’t going to share it. She wanted the intimacy but not the emotions that went with it, and no, cold comfort wasn’t what he was willing to give.

He leaned forward and gave her another kiss, this time harder, trying to get through. He reached down between her legs again, using his arousal to stimulate her. She shook her head—or tried to—as her hands finally came alive, sliding down his sides and joining his. She wanted him inside. Now.

But she still wasn’t ready. He slipped one finger inside her and she jerked against him in protest. She said something against his lips but he continued kissing her, his tongue tangling with hers. He slid another finger inside her, sliding deep inside and cupping her.

“Nnnnn…” she moaned as he felt the first slide of moisture. Her legs dropped and she tried to twist away.

He worked the moisture out and slid his wet fingers to another area to get more but her hands trapped his, refusing to let him continue. It didn’t matter, he was already familiar enough with her body to know all her erogenous spots. He released her lips and went to kiss her neck, right under her ear. Right there, where her pulse thrummed against his lips. Her head rolled back to allow him access, and as if she suddenly realized what she was doing, she stopped herself and tried to turn the opposite way.

But he already found where he wanted to nibble and he knew he had her from the way her hands couldn’t hold on tightly any longer. He bit a little harder and ran his tongue down the side of her neck. A helpless gurgle escaped her lips, and this time she didn’t stop him as his hand moved higher. He parted her and found her other, more sensitive, spot.

“No…Jazz…I…”

He kissed her neck and whispered in her ear, “Yes,
chouchou.
I know you’re hurt but you can’t lock yourself in. You can’t lock me out and have me use you. Let me love you like you deserve, honey. I’m here for you—all of me.”

She shook her head. “No! I don’t want…” and she moaned even as she tried to get away from his roving fingers. He could feel her wet and ready but she was still fighting herself and him. “Oh God, no, don’t want to feel this…good.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling good.” Jazz nudged against her heat and slid in slowly, using more pressure with his fingers. She might be protesting but her body rewarded him with that silken dampness he wanted. “I can’t give you
what you want, Vivi, not that way. It has to have pleasure, love, lots of pleasure…it comes with the territory. Don’t hold back, please don’t hold back.
Donne-moi tous.
”

She gasped as he went deep. He could feel her squeezing him, the faint contraction inside her starting. Yet she still twisted to get away. She gasped again as he cupped her, moving his hand in tandem with the rhythm of his body. He went for her neck again, nibbling and tenderly sucking her sweet flesh.

“No…”

Her body went limp as he shaped her growing pleasure, using every part of him to push her over. His need for her was almost boiling over and he had to force himself not to move any faster. Just as he was about to lose control, he felt her climax starting even as she pounded against his shoulders.

“No…no…I…don’t want to feel…”

And she went over, her body bucking under his. Only then did Jazz allow himself to go too. She was hot and wet now, her internal muscles milking him as she came. Her arms reached up and wrapped around his body. With a grunt, he gave one final thrust and let her pleasure tip him over. His careful control produced a fierce orgasm, and his whole soul seemed to vibrate with the different layers of pleasure.

He finally pulled out and turned over to lie beside her. They lay quietly, catching their breath. Now and then his body shuddered involuntarily, still reacting to the blast of pleasure minutes before. Vivi moved first. She turned, and so did he. She hid her face against his chest.

“I broke my promise to her, Jazz. I lost her. Oh God, I broke my promise again.”

And she started to weep.

Vivi hadn’t cried in a long time, not like this. Jazz gathered her in his arms, murmuring softly into her hair, and she couldn’t stop the torrent of tears. She had never felt so helpless and hopeless. Rose had depended on her, and she had failed the girl. She hadn’t even been there to return her calls
for help. What could have gone through the kid’s mind when Juliana told her none was coming?

“Don’t blame yourself,
chouchou,
” Jazz said gently, after listening to her half-sobbed explanation.
“C’est pas ta faute.”

“If I had taken care of the situation, found some place for Rose…”

“Listen, sweetheart, it would have been another girl, and you would still be feeling the way you do. Now that you’ve told me about your friend Sia-Sia, I see why this is so important to you. You promised Rose the same thing you promised Sia-Sia, and both times, you feel you have failed them.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t beat up yourself like this,
chouchou.
In between those two promises, you have done many good things, helped out many young girls. I’ve seen the way you work. You’re generous with your time and money, and you give away so much of yourself to others, Vivi. You haven’t failed, not by a long shot.”

He made things sound so simple. All day, she had walked around with a painful knot in her stomach that had gone tighter and tighter. She hadn’t been able to stand it any longer after hearing Rose’s father admit that he had sold his daughter to pay off his gambling debts. The little ray of hope she had held out, that Rose had somehow escaped, had extinguished, and all she could think about was how the young girl must have felt abandoned and what she was going through now. And her own promise to Rose—that she would come back for her—had mocked her like a sharp slap.

She had never had anyone in whom to confide her fears before. Every time she saw a girl like Rose, all the past feelings of hopelessness returned. No one to turn to. No place to go. Jazz was the first man she had ever sought out for help. Before it had always been her own strength, her own wiles against a man’s world. But it hadn’t been enough this time.

“You know what Admiral Madison said about being in a crossfire? That’s how I feel,” she said, her voice hoarse and tired. “I volunteered to help because I felt I could make a
difference. Because I have been there before. Because I thought I could offer solutions. But I find myself fighting the organization. In its quest to solicit funds, some of the people in it also have begun seeing these kids as numbers. Rose called for help and what did that Juliana do? She ignored the human being, thinking only of that magic number on paper to show the media. And you know what? Many people would agree with her, that what she does is more help than someone like me running around crying foul over a few kids left on the wayside. But Jazz, I was one of those kids…I know what it’s like when you’re too old to be considered cute and too young to know right from wrong. It’s so easy to step off the edge and join the kids in tight skirts and low-cut blouses, waving dollar bills men slip down their push-up bras. I can’t bear the idea of Rose…”

She started crying again. She was thinking of Sia-Sia now.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

She looked up in the dark. “What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you end up like them? It’s easy to step off, like you said. Hunger. Pain. Threats from relatives. Yet you chose to run away. And you made it as a person. Why?”

“I…” She paused, unsure of how to answer.

“It isn’t that story about your dad being a warrior god coming down to take you away. It isn’t about you abandoning your friend. You saw an open window into the night and you chose to slip out of it. Your friend didn’t—couldn’t, whatever—but you did, in spite of the fear of being alone out there by yourself. Why, Vivi?” His hand caressed the side of her face, wiping away the fallen tears. “I know you have heard hundreds of times about how brave and strong you were, that you dug yourself out of a hole, or any number of other things. But have you ever thought why
you
didn’t end up being sold?”

“Lucky, I guess,” she told him.

“There’s always a little bit of luck in anything we do, sweetheart. I’m lucky to be alive in the job I do. But it also takes perseverance and choices.” There was a pause. Jazz’s
voice was low, distant. “I grew up very poor,
chouchou.
It was just my maman, and she had eight young mouths to feed. Eight kids, and no man in the family. Like you, there were few options for a woman like her in those days, even in the States. My grandfather did the best he could but he was a rascally old man and didn’t change his ways much. He disappeared a lot, but when he came home, he always took care of whatever repairs the house needed before taking off again. Maman refused to give up. She chose to keep us together, even though it had meant a lot of sacrifices. She did it all herself—one lone woman—and we grew up relatively happy. Poor, but happy. And luck played only a bit part,
chouchou.
It was mostly what she made of life. Like you did. She saw a window and went through it.”

Vivi rubbed her face against Jazz’s rough palm, imagining him as a child. She had this picture of him and all his sisters and brother, happily skipping to school and doing what families do. It was just a fantasy on her part. His background wasn’t that much different from hers. It wasn’t just poverty. It was the way they had both grown up knowing there was more out there than what was being offered. It was that knowledge that had spurred her to escape that night so long ago.