Double-Crossed (2 page)

Setting her eyes on her destination, away from Chastity and the men watching her, she stealthily crossed the room, staying in the shadows between the lighting. Within almost an arm's reach of the door, a figure stepped out in front of her, stopping her dead in her tracks.

“Now why would you be crossing the floor as if you had something to hide?”

Marianne looked up into the distorted ugliness of a face she knew very well. It was Don.

“He called me. I'm going in to see him,” she huffed her response, hoping to give the impression of irritation, but this face always filled her with fear, a fear she trusted she never showed.

“I believe you've lost all your rights and privileges here.” Don's voice dripped sarcasm.

“Did you ever think I had any rights and privileges?”

Don, Joe's bodyguard, had been with Joe for several decades; eight years ago, he'd rescued him from an assassination attempt when Joe peddled drugs in the Cross. The rescue successfully freed Joe, who didn't get a scratch on him, but Don got injured and horribly burnt. Joe organized the best surgeons, and except for one damaged hand permanently in a claw, Don could finally function after a year and a half of rehabilitation. The deep skin damage prevented the grafting from being effective. Don remained forever disfigured, hairless, and filled with a weird kind of rage that he channeled into his work.

Don had hated Marianne from the day Joe lifted her off the boat, but the hatred grew in intensity after his accident. He silently waited for the order to hurt her. Marianne couldn't quite put her finger on the problem. Joe told her Don's homosexual love for him created intense jealousy. Joe felt it best to have that kind of a bodyguard, because only then did he get the sort of loyalty necessary for Joe's lifestyle.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn't be able to accept rights and privileges from anyone at all, let alone Joe, you whore. Let me check you before you go anywhere near him.”

“What? I've never been checked before.”

Don gave a grotesque attempt at a smile, but his eyes spat fire.

“Well, you're not quite in the same category anymore.”

Every unknown person who entered Joe's office underwent this normal procedure that sent chills up the toughest spine. As much as she objected, Marianne knew that she wouldn't be able to escape a full body search after a four-month absence. Marianne turned toward the wall, spreading her legs and her arms as she did so. Her stomach started to churn, and her heart raced. She had to stay calm while this vile creature did what he needed to do to her.

Don stood behind her and ran his hands through her hair. He didn't make a sound. He simply did his job.

She felt his hands all over her tight red top, traveling under her large breasts. The hands moved over her belly and around to her back, snaking down to her behind, running over the mounds of her ass cheeks. He never made a sound from behind her as the hands journeyed. Bringing one hand behind her again, he slid it between the cheeks of her ass as he brought the front hand along the groove of her labia, his two hands meeting at her opening. Neither person spoke, both trying to appear to have control of the situation.

Despite the perverse ugliness of the moment, a creeping sexuality oiled its way into the place where self-loathing could excite a woman. He had virtually felt her up, after all. Strange that a man so sexually disinterested in her could make her feel so bad about herself.

Dropping to his knees, he ran his hands down the outside of her legs, then back up the inside, under her skirt, until he reached her crotch and felt her underwear. Then he lowered his hands.

“You're clean,” he said without emotion.

“What a surprise,” Marianne said. “I wonder, Don; if I didn't know better I'd say you enjoyed that.”

With no possible expression in his face, his eyes brimmed with hate-filled horror.

“Touching you repulses me,” he said flatly.

“Touching me, or touching women?”

“Touching you.” He said the words with a smooth, quiet voice. Marianne supposed she'd better let that one rest.

She tentatively followed Don as he pushed the door open.

“The return of the whore,” he announced to Joe, who sat behind his desk in the middle of the room.

As she heard the words, Marianne glanced across to check the door to the small observation room connected to the office, the one fitted with two-way glass. The door remained firmly closed. It could only mean that someone must be in there, someone interested in the conversation about to take place.

“Marianne.” Joe leaped to his feet and came running around the front of the desk. “My little lamb. Are you okay? Did this big brute hurt you? You know, darling, I need to have him check every stranger. You did run away after all, and that moves you into another category.”

“Yeah, I had that explained to me at the door.”

Marianne dodged to avoid Joe putting his arms around her.

“Hey, watch it. We aren't that anymore.”

“Sure, baby, sure.” Joe pulled his hands away but still stood painfully close. Apparently determined to create intimacy, he lifted his hand again and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. Marianne winced, recoiling from his touch.

A glare of stone moved into Joe's gaze, and he took a step back. Without self-consciousness, he looked at Marianne, up and down, as if she were the prize heifer in a show, the expression in his eyes telling her she'd lost her chance to appeal to his warmth.

“I'm not in the mood for games,” he said as his eyes lingered on her breasts. “I've asked you here for one reason and one reason only.”

He turned and walked behind his desk.

“Sit,” he said to her.

Marianne rotated just in time to see Don move a chair hard into her legs. She sat heavily on it, giving him a scowl as she turned back to face Joe.

“Okay,” she said. “Why all the mystery? What's this about?”

Joe looked hard at her from behind his desk for a long minute, the steel in his eyes eventually dissolving into a twisted smile. Joe wanted something. Something big. The confidence in his cagey attitude told her more than his words. Marianne started to wish she'd never come here.

“I believe, little one, we need to be married.”

* * *

Peter had stepped into the observation room just in time. She'd almost seen him.

Reaching for the intercom mounted on the wall below the mirror, Peter pressed the On button. The small, dark booth flooded with sound from the other room.

Listening to the entire conversation with Joe didn't fill him with confidence. Joe had assured Peter that controlling Marianne would be a breeze. It sure wasn't coming across that way at this point. Joe's clumsiness made him seem like a fool, and Marianne orchestrated that image.

“I think, little one, that we need to be married.”

As soon as the words landed, Peter's eyes turned to the woman sitting in the chair opposite, wondering what she would say in reply. She stared at Joe. Clearly, she couldn't believe he'd asked her this. Joe watched her intently; even that creepy guy, Don, gaped at her. Peter stared, aware all three men hung on her every word at that moment.

“You have got to be joking,” she said with an even voice. Her tone surprised Peter; he looked harder at her. She wasn't shocked, or flattered. She eyed Joe with suspicion. This wasn't the answer Joe said he would receive.
She's smart
, Peter thought as he studied her.
She is smart
.

“Baby! Isn't that what you wanted? You left me because of all the other women. If we're married, then you have me. You would have everything that you want.”

Peter slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead.
Man, this guy is dumb!

“You can't seriously think I would marry you,” he heard Marianne reply. “To be frank, I know that you don't want to marry me. You loved me once, in your own way, but I'm in my thirties now. Older women… How do I say this? They just don't do it for you, Joe. No, there has to be some other reason for you to say this to me. So come on, out with it. What's really going on? Why would you want me to be your wife?”

Her answer impressed Peter. She had Joe's number immediately. Joe had convinced Peter that she'd jump at the possibility of marriage, an arrangement specifically designed to solve their little problem. However, looking at her now, with her long blonde hair and her feisty attitude, Peter couldn't help but be impressed. Her attitude, so on the ball, suddenly made this woman mighty interesting trouble.

“Honey, I miss you, and you taught me a lesson in these last few months. I realize now what I lost.”

Frustrated, Peter turned toward Joe. This was the problem with having a meathead to work with. Joe couldn't even tell when to change tactics. Peter glanced at Marianne, noticing her watch Joe carefully. She stood up and moved toward the desk. Peter couldn't help dropping his sight to her body for a moment. Her form smoldered behind those clothes. Her short frame emphasized the large, swelling breasts and the tiny waist that nipped in tight. Peter realized that in another time, in another place, he would harbor great desire for this woman. An indefinable quality mesmerized him. A delicious combination of a certain sort of innocence and the streetwise knowing that came from deep experience. Peter found himself fascinated.

She leaned over the desk facing Joe, and Peter saw Joe's eyes dart immediately down the top of her shirt.

“Joe, you've got to know by now that this isn't going to work. I'm not going to marry you. So you're just going to have to tell me more, to see if we can work out another way that I might be able to help you.”

Joe openly stared down her top now, and Peter cringed behind the glass. Joe was going to tell her everything, Peter could feel it, and they would lose their trump card. They still had a measure of control over her if they kept her ignorant. She didn't know how much power she had over Joe now. Peter glanced at Don and noticed that, even under the scarring, his red, papery face had gone white. He knew it too. This woman had Joe by the balls, and he would 'fess up any minute.

“I'm being prosecuted by the state for tax evasion, and you were my bookkeeper through the period they're assessing. If you marry me, you can't testify.” There it is. He'd spilled it all.

Peter watched as she stood, turned on her heel, and walked back to the chair. When she sat down, the grin from ear to ear indicated she saw everything clearly.

“Seems I have a bit of power over you right now, doesn't it?”

Don leaped from his chair. He moved over to where she sat and grabbed her hands, holding them tight behind her.

“Just give me the order, boss. Just tell me to do it, and this trouble ain't never coming back into your life.”

Horrified, Peter's fists clenched automatically. If this continued, he'd have to step out of his hiding place and reveal himself.

Joe surprised Peter by seizing immediate control of the situation. He stared into Marianne's eyes from where he sat and spoke in a calm, even voice.

“Let her go, Don. She's not going to hurt us.”

Don removed his grasp and moved back to his seat. During all of this, Marianne had barely flinched.

She's brave; I'll give her that
, Peter thought. Joe spoke again.

“Yes, little one. Currently, you do have power over me. I don't want you to testify. I don't even want them to be able to talk to you.” Joe took a deep breath. “I'm not the fool everyone thinks I am, Marianne.” At that point, he glanced toward Peter behind the mirror. “If you won't marry me, I am willing to offer you complete freedom from me if we can work together to get rid of this little problem. If you work with my defense, they will know what to do.”

Marianne looked astonished. This time, Joe appeared to have it right.

“Really? You'd let me go? Properly? I wouldn't have to wait for your summons? I could live down the road here in the Cross, and you wouldn't try to interfere in my life?”

“I know that's what you really want, little one,” Joe said with a sigh that almost sounded like regret.

“Then I'll do it!” Marianne said on the spot. “I'll work with your defense team, and I'll do everything I can to ensure you don't go to jail.”

Chapter Two

Peter walked out of the small room into Joe's office; Joe grinned from ear to ear.

“See. Told you. No problem with that little one.”

“You must be crazy! How in the hell am I going to ensure she doesn't testify now?”

“She promised.”

“She can be subpoenaed. Do you understand? They can force her to testify. This is a federal case. You're in serious trouble here.”

Joe kept that creepy smile. “I'm not worried. Now that I know she won't be testifying, there is no problem to be had.”

Peter sensed they each spoke a different language. Something that Joe knew, or something that he supposed he knew, was different from the legal knowledge Peter used as his base. He let out a sigh of frustration.

“Joe, if I'm going to be your lawyer, we have to be on the same side. I want all the information. Tell me why you're in such a good mood. Either you don't fully understand what's happening to you, or there is something you have up your sleeve that I don't know. So which is it?”

“Trust me, Peter. You know everything that is important for the case.” His face changed to a more serious look. “I will get out of this. I know how much trouble I'm in; I'm not as stupid as you suppose. I know they won't be able to use Marianne, and I have reasons for this assumption that are beyond anything you know about.” The stupid grin spread slowly across his face again. “You will have to just trust me, Peter.”

Irritated, Peter turned away from Joe and noticed suddenly that the room had significantly changed. Foreboding spread through Peter's body from his belly.

“Where's Don?” Peter demanded.

“Not sure. He must have slipped out.” Joe's face held its stupid grin, and Peter swiftly got a very disturbing realization of what could be going on down the street. He stepped forward and grabbed Joe by the shirt collar.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Joe's demand made it clear he wasn't used to having someone treating him with force. His stare darted down his collar and up into Peter's face in a kind of shock.