The Secret Brokers (12 page)

“I’m thinking that maybe I have said too much already,” she admitted while wrapping the tape around his finger. “I should have never told you that.”

Dallas took his right hand and lifted her chin until their eyes met.

“I’m glad you told me,” he whispered to her.

She pushed his hand away. “Dallas, what good would it serve for us to learn anything more about each other if after two weeks all you’ll do is walk away? You said before, I’m just an assignment. I’ve had so many people walk out of my life that I’m tired of making the investment in getting to know anyone anymore.”

Dallas leaned his head closer to hers. “If you let me in, maybe I won’t walk away.” He placed his right hand on the side of her face. “Try just this once, Gwen. Let me in.”

Dallas kissed her tenderly on the lips. She instantly went stiff, but as he tempted her with his mouth, he felt her body relax and then her lips slowly parted. He deepened his kiss to her as he ran his hand up into her silky hair. Dallas was surprised by how much he liked kissing her. He wanted more of her, but he was also afraid of pushing her too hard

Dallas pulled away and took a step back from her. He said nothing, but stared into her eyes, searching for some glimmer of emotion.

Gwen nervously lowered her eyes to the floor. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have some of your stew?” She turned away and headed out the bedroom door.

Dallas sighed and went to the nightstand to get the vodka. As his finger began to throb beneath the bandage, he took another long sip from the bottle. He sat down on the bed and tried to regroup his thoughts. He knew he was getting to her; if he could just get her to crack, then she would open up to him. Frustrated by his progress, Dallas leaned back slightly on the bed. He felt his back hit something hard beneath the sheets. He stood up from the bed, placed the vodka on the nightstand, and pulled back the blue and white bedspread. There, sticking out from underneath her pillow, was a Glock 17 9mm semi-automatic pistol.

Dallas immediately thought of what Lance had told him about Gwen’s dislike for guns.

“That sneaky little…
.
”

He replaced the bedspread and picked up the bottle of vodka from the nightstand. Dallas shook his head and refrained from laughing at his stupidity. She was a lot tougher than he had imagined. It was time to change tactics. From now on he needed to be harder with her, and he could never let up until he got her to break.

***

After dinner, Gwen was helping Dallas in the kitchen. She insisted on washing out the pots and pans that he had used to prepare his stew, claiming she did not want him getting his bandage wet. As Dallas dried the pots and wiped down the counters, he decided to ask about the gun.

“When did you get the Glock?”

Gwen arched her back slightly as she stood from loading the dishwasher. She slowly turned to face him. “Doug gave it to me when I moved out here. He wanted me to have something for protection.”

“Did Doug ever serve in the military or with law enforcement?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Glock 17 is the gun of choice for a lot of law enforcement agencies.”

She shrugged. “So?”

Dallas grinned. “Just seems rather odd that you have a Glock 17 in the house and not some BB gun. I was told you didn’t like guns.”

She leaned over and slammed the door to the dishwasher closed. “Well, a BB gun wouldn’t exactly stop an intruder.”

He threw the towel in his hands on the counter. “What else are you hiding from me, Gwen?”

She rolled her eyes. “Aw, for Christ’s sake. Don’t start that again!” She turned to head out of the kitchen, but he caught her arm, stopping her. She glared at him. “Let me go,” she demanded.

“Are you keeping something from me?” he repeated as he leaned in to her body.

Gwen struggled against his right hand, but Dallas tightened his grip on her arm.

“You’re hurting me!” she shouted.

“I’ll do a lot worse if you don’t start telling me the truth,” he growled at her.

Gwen took her free right arm, drew back her fist, and punched Dallas as hard as she could in the chest.

Dallas reflexively wrapped Gwen in his arms to keep her from being able to move. His face rested inches from hers. “You better start talking, Gwen. Tell me everything I need to know about what is really going on here before one of us gets killed.”

“You son of a bitch,” Gwen hissed. She stomped her foot down on his right instep and Dallas reflexively let her go. She then elbowed him as a hard as she could in the solar plexus.

Caught off guard by the blow, Dallas stepped back, sucking in air, and grabbing at his chest. He bent over, trying to catch his breath.

Gwen stood over his figure. “Don’t ever grab at me like that again!”

But instantly Dallas threw his arms about her and pushed her down to the floor. He held her hands above her head as he straddled her hips, pinning her beneath him.

“Let me up!” she cried as her face turned a pale shade of red.

Dallas leaned over her and placed his mouth next to her ear. “Now are you ready to start talking?”

But as soon as he had lifted his weight from her hips, Gwen kicked her legs upward and caught his head between her thighs. She pulled Dallas off her body and rolled on top of him. She quickly gripped his injured left index finger in her hand and squeezed hard.

“Don’t ever underestimate me, Dallas,” she whispered against his cheek.

Dallas winced as a jolt of pain surged up his arm. She had immediately gone for his most vulnerable spot, his injury. Any well-trained police officer, federal agent, or hired thug knew that to overcome any opponent, you always went for a debilitated or injured body part.

Gwen let go of his finger. Dallas grabbed his sore finger and sucked in a few mouthfuls of air. She removed her body from atop his and sat on the floor next to him.

“Did Doug teach you that move?” Dallas asked.

“No, Ed Pioth taught me. Growing up with two older brothers also helps. They were always teaching me moves I could use to protect myself from men. My father was always worried that a man would…
.
” She sighed as she rubbed her hand across her brow. “I’m not keeping anything from you, Dallas. You know what I know.”

Dallas sat up next to her. “I can’t figure you out, Gwen. One minute you’re soft and vulnerable and the next you’re tossing me around on the floor with moves I haven’t seen used since my days at the FBI.”

“You’re a former FBI agent?” Gwen questioned, her voice peppered with astonishment.

“A long time ago, before I got into private security.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “And you accuse me of keeping things from you?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary to tell you about my past.”

“How can you kiss me and then tell me something like that,” she scoffed.

Dallas eased his body closer to hers. “I was wondering when you were going to bring that up.”

She studied him for a few moments, appearing unsure of what to say next. “Why did you kiss me?” she finally asked.

“Because I wanted to. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t find you attractive.”

Gwen stood up from the floor. “If wrestling
around
with me on the floor is your idea of foreplay, you’ve got a lot to learn about women.”

He looked down at his throbbing finger. The bandage was soaked in blood. “I gave up trying to learn about women a long time ago. With your sex, a man can never win.”

“Well, at least you learned that.” She folded her arms across her chest as she stared down at him on the floor. “What about Nicci Beauvoir? What happened to the two of you?”

Dallas stood up. “Nothing happened. We didn’t work out and she started seeing Caston.”

“And I guess you just let her go.”

Dallas shook his head. “What else could I do? Challenge my opponent to a dual?”

“Maybe then she would have discovered how you really felt about her. I don’t think you ever tell anyone how you really feel.”

“She knew how I felt
,”
he angrily replied.

Gwen uncrossed her arms and took a step toward him. “You gave up too easily.”

Dallas scowled at her. “Drop it, Gwen. That has nothing to do with you.”

“Dallas, it has everything to do with me. If you wouldn’t fight for her, how in the hell do I know you will fight for me? Lesson 101 in women—the moment you give up is the moment she walks away.”

“I said drop it,” he grumbled.

Gwen smiled as she watched him scowling at her. “All right, if you want to learn more about me, I will take you to the source. Tomorrow my father has invited us to brunch at his house in the city. He asked me a lot of questions about you.
He says he wants to meet you.”

“I don’t think heading into New Orleans is a good idea. It’s not safe.”

Gwen shook her head. “Dallas, Ed Pioth is not the kind of man who takes no very well. An invitation from him is a command performance. Besides, with the trial, he has more agents around his house than I have. We’ll be perfectly safe.”

Dallas let out an exasperated sigh and nodded his head. “All right. What time do we need to be there?

“Eleven. We can head out right after we feed and water the horses. And we better be on time. Ed hates it when anyone is late.” She nodded to his bloody finger. “I’ll leave some bandages and tape on your bed so you can change your dressing.” She grinned at him. “Think you can handle that?”
Not waiting for him to reply, Gwen turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Dallas went over to the kitchen sink and pulled out the bottle of vodka from the cabinet beneath it. He unscrewed the cap and took a long sip from the bottle.

“Great,” he whispered as he stared at his throbbing finger. “This is all I need.”

Ed Pioth’s home was located on Prytania Street and Third Street in the heart of the Garden District. The large mansion was in the style of the classic double-gallery house seen frequently in older New Orleans neighborhoods. It had a gabled roof with balconies on the first and second floors that were framed and supported by white Corinthian columns. The stucco exterior was painted a pale gray, and there were arched windows all along the front of the home. The oak front door was decorated with leaded glass, and two brass gas lanterns hung on either side of the door. The long front gardens were decorated with winding flowerbeds filled with blooming red azaleas, jasmine, camellias, and gardenia bushes. Next to the gardens a thick oak with its heavy limbs resting on the ground was covered with Spanish moss.

Dallas checked his watch as he opened the passenger door of his red Mercedes for Gwen.

Gwen stepped from the car and looked over at him. “Nervous?”

“No, just making sure we are on time
,
” he said, shutting the door behind her.

“You should be nervous,” she remarked beside him.

Dallas turned and took in Gwen’s flowing blue silk dress as it clung to her figure. Her eyes seemed bluer against the fabric and her skin appeared creamier. She had left her shoulder length blond hair down, having forgone her usual ponytail. Her silky hair stirred in the light morning breeze.

Dallas stepped to her side and took her elbow. “Why should I be nervous?”

Gwen shrugged as they started down the walkway toward the front door. “Ed Pioth is rather hard to take. He tends to scare people away…usually every guy I ever brought home.” She paused. “Until Doug,” she added.

Dallas explored the façade of the grand home. “And what did Ed think about Doug after he found out he was gay?”

Gwen smiled as she walked beside him. “He always knew…so did my brothers. Probably the reason my father liked him. He figured he could never hurt me.”

Dallas climbed the steps to the front porch with Gwen at his side. “Anything you need to tell me before he meets me?”

“Like what?” Gwen asked, reaching for the doorbell.

“What does he know about me?”

Gwen smiled at him as she pressed her finger to the brass doorbell. “He knows everything, Dallas. He always knows everything.”

An older, muscular man with a full head of gray hair and bright blue eyes answered the door. He stood an inch taller than Dallas and had a wide jaw, small mouth, and a high forehead.

“You’re the bodyguard Carl hired. Good to meet you; I’m Ed Pioth. Everyone calls me Ed,” he announced in a booming voice as he extended his hand to Dallas.

“Ed, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dallas August.” He shook his hand and noted how Ed’s blue eyes keenly evaluated every inch of his face.

“What happened to your finger?” Ed inspected the small white bandage on Dallas’s left index finger.

Dallas looked down at his finger. “Just had an accident. I was chopping up some vegetables in the kitchen.”

Ed gave a raucous laugh. “Why were you chopping up vegetables? That’s a woman’s job.”

Before Dallas could respond, Ed abruptly turned to Gwen. “Beautiful as always, darling.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He then gazed
past
them to the street. “Your minders followed you here, I see.” He nodded to the black Ford parked behind Dallas’s red Mercedes.