Fool's Gold: A Kisses and Crimes Novel (12 page)

I’m a fucking fool.

I’d worried so goddamned much that I’d
lose
her, never truly imagining that she would be
taken
.

BISHOP

The blinking blip on her cell phone sensor puts her smack dab in the middle of Paris’s party center.

One cab and umpteenth blocks later, I stand on the corner of Desperation and Losing my Fucking Mind, staring blankly at the flashing trace from Dani’s cell phone on my iPhone screen.

The blip leads me into a nearby building, packed at the street-level with party-goers in the form of suited men and tight-skirted women.

Clad in a leather jacket, black tee and jeans, I stick out like a sore thumb. Broad-backed bouncers with tiny black earpieces block the path leading to the door.

They escort a pretty woman up the stairs, then another.

The men wait impatiently at the bottom, sulking and soaking in the beauties with their hungry eyes.  I do the same, but I’m not focused on which ass I can get full view of.

I’m concerned about my own.

These doormen have particular tastes.

And tall, dark and dick-swinging doesn’t seem to be it.

I approach the door, gun on hip, knowing that I’ll never get it in the
easy
way. My entrance is going to require some
hard
convincing.

I reach for my wallet.

“How many hundreds would it take for someone with a cock to get in, boys?” I ask in stilted Spanish.

Rien
. The bouncers stand to their full Shrek heights.
Nothing
.

“Come back when you buy a pussy,” the tallest says. He elbows another as they all laugh.

I look up at the doormen, letting the drizzle hit my face as I stare them down.

“A shame for you, guys,” I condescend. “A pussy’s more expensive than a new nose.”

The bald-headed one steps forward—curious. “You’re getting a new nose, cocksucker?”

I climb an additional step. “Nope… You are.”

I strike out, slamming the heel of my hand into the bridge of Bald Man’s nose. I use the other hand to slam Shrek #1’s head into the crumbling baldie, pivoting another step to slam a knee into the groin of mini-Andre the Giant.

The people in line gasp as the pile collapses.

I step over the pile, throwing a pile of cash onto the heap of men before slinking inside, side-stepping as a bevy of beauties giggle their way out of the door and into the line of sight between me and the other bouncers.

The deafening music hits me the moment I enter the front room.

The bass of a hard EDM beat puts a pulse into the room and dancers on the floor gyrate in full view, swinging their hips (and in some cases, dicks) to the DJ-orchestrated rhythm that makes the club feel like it’s breathing.

Blue disco lights illuminate the bar and floor. Glasses clink. Drinks spill. And in the midst of it all, I cut a path into the middle of an organized chaos.

And behind me, the chaos that I created at the door grows louder with every second.

I duck beneath the tray held overhead in a bartender’s shaky grasp.

Heading to the back corner of the club, the consolidation of tits, asses and bare legs becomes overwhelming. In the attempt to surpass the swarm, I subject myself to multiple gropes, lots of ass grinding and one bold cock-grab.

I hit the far side of the dance floor, dipping my head next to a bar leading to a back room. My search for an exit ends when a hand pulls me behind a red velvet rope.

I land unexpectedly on a leather sofa seat.

“Avoiding a girlfriend?” a pretty brunette hisses in my face.

I take my arm back. “No.”

“Oh… Looking for a new one?” she slithers.

“I don’t think so…” I answer in English.

“Oh!” She slides even closer. “You’re American,” she responds in heavily-accented English. “I
loveee
Americans.”

“Yeah, sure…” I glance behind me towards the dance floor. “Me too.”

“You’re a longgg way from the United States, handsome.” She traces a finger across my jaw, rubbing a naked leg against my pants.

She’s inches from my face. I can smell the alcohol off her pretty lips. I can hear the rising commotion of bouncers rumbling at my back.

I sneak a peek over my shoulder.

Bleeding bouncers and their husky comrades scan the crowd. They head towards the back bar and just as they start to pass us, the French brunette kisses me, tangling her tongue with mine as she draws me into make-out session that is neither wanted nor expected.

I swallow my own protest… and play along for the sake of not murdering anyone today.

Her drunken lust meets my dedicated calculation, and the meeting of our open mouths amongst the heavy beat of the party temporarily masks my “wanted” identity. The kiss keeps me from being seen by the hulking bruisers.

I pull away, and the lusty French girl puts her hand on my crotch. All I can think about when she does… is how fast she’d pull back a nub if Dani were actually here.

Which reminds me of what I’m doing in this God-forsaken hump fest in the first place.

I reposition myself in my seat.

“Thanks for the distraction, love,” I say, standing. “But I’ve really gotta go.”

She pulls at my pant leg, preventing my knee from moving.

“What is the hurry, honey? We can have our own little fun.” She winks weakly, her eyelids fluttering from the liquor and the lousy flirting. She flashes a 100 Watt smile in my direction.

I flash my gun in hers.

She takes her hands off.

“I know, I know,” I comment. “Us Americans and our guns… I’d sit this one out if I were you…” I toss a hundred in her lap. “Thanks for the temporary honey, love.”

And then I’m off, gun tucked once again, iPhone bleeping white-blue in the center of the crowded bar.

A moving target, the blip jumps, and all of a suddenly lands in the back of the building. I head towards the exit door.

Watching. Waiting.

Tracking.

And then I stop… because I was wrong.

The blip is not in the back of the building; it’s
behind
it. And when I hit the door, the moving target stops.

It rests to the far side of my screen as if it’s taunting me—teasing me. Enticing me with a blue-colored wink.

It matches my heartbeat.

I hit the double doors to the breezeway outside, and damp air soaks into my clothes and lungs. Back stairs spill out of the still-thumping club and to the street, and when I hit the sidewalk, the smell of cigarette smoke and broken beer bottles assaults me from all sides.

It heightens my senses as I scan the back alley, inspecting faces, passing truant partygoers as I follow the nearby marker.

I draw my gun.

The rain picks up and so does my speed. Under the glow of a flickering overhead light, I head towards the singular spot.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

I’m practically on top of the marker as I advance towards a car parked in the middle of the alley.

I contemplate lighting the car up, putting a spray of bullets into the car of whoever the fuck took Dani.

The only notion that stops me is the thought that she is probably in there with him.

I approach the old black Jaguar from the trunk-side.

One breath is it all it takes.

I throw the back door open… and find Dani’s cell phone sitting in the center of the leather cushion.

Alone
.

Pistol cocked, aiming around the interior of the car, I take a step inside the vehicle.

Fucking empty.

Placing the weapon back on my hip, I reach for Dani’s phone, glancing at its screen. I hesitate as I grapple it in my palm, reading the Note plastered in Sans Serif font on the home page.

The second I finish scanning the text, the feel of cold metal grips around my wrist. With a click, a pull and a zip, the wrist, no longer hanging at my side, attaches itself to the roof of the darkened Jag.

The glint of shiny steel handcuffs winks back at me and, beyond the bracelets, I find the turquoise blank eyes of Dani, staring at me.

I’ve fallen into a trap.

And it’s in a way I never expect…

From the
one
person I least expected.

BISHOP

“I’ve never been a fan of jewelry.”

“Why? You don’t think it looks good on me?”

“It looks good on you,” I say. I rotate my wrist, feeling the weight of the metal handcuff.  I touch its surface. “It just doesn’t look good on me.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Dani declares from the front seat on the driver’s side. “You’ve slapped a pair of ‘pretty bracelets’ on me. I thought it only right that I return the favor.”

“And so you have…” I stare at the back of her reddish blonde hair. “What are you going to do with me, Dani?”

I can see her fist tighten from four feet away. The knuckles turn white as she grips the steering wheel… and the rain outside starts to pour.

“I’m going to do what I should have done a long time ago, Bishop… I’m going to get some fucking answers from you.”

She never looks back, and we keep driving.

We drive out of midtown, towards the edges of the city. The Parisian beams light the way out of the city’s center.

I look back at the disappearing sights behind us.

“Where are you going, kitten?”

She sighs, still cloaked in her black ensemble. Leather jacket, halter top and skirt. Her blonde hair tumbles down the entire length of her back.

I know her lips are red—stained with her glossy lipstick from earlier. I wish I could see them from this view.

“I don’t quite know… but I’m guessing that you don’t either. I just want to get away.”

“Away from what?”

“Witnesses…”

Instinct tells me to reach for the gun that’s no longer there. My free hand is useless at this point. Dani took my gun the second she handcuffed me, and I’m too far to even touch her in the backseat of this oversized sports car.

I’ve never been in this fucking position before.

I sit silently, staring at the back of Dani’s head, preparing myself for whatever’s to come.

I’ve stared death in the face more times than I can fucking count. When you’re a bodyguard for the Mafia, the terms “Willing to catch a bullet in the ass or head” comes standard in the job description.

But this… this fear is new.

I’m not terrified that the woman I’ve sworn to protect has my weapon and may use it against me. I’m terrified that if (or when) the time comes… I’ll have to stop her…

I turn my stare towards the window.

Riding around in circles, triangles and shapes I can’t even name, we eventually come to an abandoned park.

With the dark of night deepening with each hour and the rain falling, there’s almost a bitter dichotomy to the sight of a deserted set of children swings and a jungle gym.

Such an obvious display of innocence… enshrouded under the cover of a dank and dreary night.

The rain never lets up.

And soon, Dani parks.

From the front seat, she tosses a tiny silver key over to me. The one I’d stupidly sat in the apartment. She doesn’t give me a second look.

“Get out of the car.”

“Dani…”

“Get out of the
fucking
car, Bishop.”

I stay silent.

She cocks my pistol, raising it to point.

“I’m not going to tell you again…”

This time, she looks over at me.

Weighing the many choices tap-dancing in my head, I choose the easiest route. I unlock the cuffs, open the door and step out into the now-freezing summer rain.

I lean against the car as Dani climbs out of her own seat.

Legs out, navel exposed, her beautifully built calves stretch out of the car. When she circles toward me, I can’t help but linger over the gorgeous curves of her body.

Her tiny waist. Those full lips. Her delicate hands—gripping around the butt of my gun.

I watch her—observing how it fits into her palms like it was meant to be there.

It is only in that instance… that I realize that she remembers.

Fuck me.

She remembers who she is.

She points my gun at me.

“I don’t know how this usually goes, so I’m going to do it my way.”

Her pretty face is turned into a scowl.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, and you—you are going to tell me what I want to know.”

She steps closer.

“First question: Who… are you?”

Her hands stay steady. The rain does little to disturb her amazing reserve.

If she was pointing the gun at anyone else, I’d be damned proud of her…

I make a decision.

“I’m your husband,” I reply.

The gun shifts.

“Wrong…
answer
.” Dani shoots.

A flash fills the sky for a split second, and the air near my right ear grows hot in an instant. The sound of the shot rings out, and it accompanies the rumble on the tail end of a bout of thunder.

It splits the silence.

I don’t flinch an inch.

Under a sheet of rain, Dani aims an inch over to the left.

“Next time, I’ll shoot a little closer.” She takes another step in her strappy black sandals. “One more time…
who are you
?”

I stare her down, fixing my gaze on her wet and pretty face.

“A friend, Dani. The only friend you’ve fucking got.”

“Guess again.”

Pow!

The heat. The flash.

The bullet whizzing past my head is hotter than the lightning, its flare ten times brighter. I can hear the
zip
it makes as it flies. I can smell the gunpowder in the humid air.

I hold my hands in the air to keep her from shooting any closer.

“
Wait
…” I talk slowly. “Wait... Just… hold on.”

I glance down and find an untied, dangling shoelace. I reach for it. Dani jabs the gun in my direction.

“Just give me a second,” I say aloud. “It’s nothing.” I bend at the waist. “I just want to…”

I grab for it.

I point my spare Beretta at Dani just as she begins to let another round off.

Thank God for my spare strap.

The handle of the pistol is still warm, it’s black encasing shiny and dry from where it was fastened to my bare ankle.

I level it at her chest as I rise to my feet, and Dani’s eyes narrow, never leaving mine—never straying to the gun.

Her expression is unbelievably fierce.

I try to reason with her before we both leave this park with more holes than we came in with.

“Why are you doing this, Dani? This isn’t you….”

“I’m doing this because now I
know
who you are. Because I know who
I am
.”

I stare harder at her face.

“Look at me.” At that, her eyes open wider. “You are
not
your father.”

She grimaces behind the line of sight of my stolen handgun. She shakes her wet head of hair.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Bishop. I am
just
like my father. It just took me a while to figure it out. Tonight—
everything
that happened tonight—only solidified it for me.”

She shakes the barrel towards me.

“I know what’s going on…”

She steadies her chin.

“I
know
that you’re my father’s bodyguard of ten years, that you’ve been
mine
for five…”

She steps in closer.

“And I
know
that you are
the Crow
—the man who tried to kill me.”

***

I’ve seen Wild West stand-offs that were more amicable than this.

Dani’s accusation nearly takes my breath. It hits me square in the fucking gut, making comprehension harder. The rain doesn’t make it any easier.

The steady drumming of the shower against the grass interferes with my scrambled thoughts.

I honestly don’t know what the fuck to say.

“You’ve got this all fucking wrong, Dani.”

“Do I?” she asks.

“Yeah. I’m not the person who shot you. Whoever
did
is still fucking out there somewhere, and we’re wasting time even standing the fuck here talking about it!”

My anger gets the best of me, and Dani’s voice starts to shake.

“
No
… I saw you. I dreamt it. I can put two and two together, you know.”

“Depends on which fucking ‘two’s’ you’re talking about…”

“The dreams,” Dani cuts in. “
My
dreams. Or rather, my memories… You were there. The night of my father’s party. The night I was
shot
. You were fucking there, Bishop.”

Her small voice trembles.

“You shot at me.”

“I raised my gun in your direction.”

“Same difference.”

“No…” I lower my gun by just a centimeter. “Shooting at someone and then shooting at the fucker behind them is
completely
fucking different.”

“How do I know that?” Dani grits out.

“Know what?”

“Know that
that’s
what you were doing?”

“For fuck’s sake, Dani… I can’t prove it to you right this second—when you have the barrel of my goddamned gun pointed at my chest!”

“Well, you’d better find a way… because I’m not going anywhere with you from now on…”

I can’t believe this girl. But then again… yes, I can.

She was always a piece of work. From the moment I met her at her Sweet Sixteen. From the second her father introduced us and we touched hands.

She was a man-eater.

A tough broad.

And the most gorgeous fucking thing on the planet.

It didn’t matter where we came from, how we got there, where we’d go from here.

I’d been a dumb, crazy, lucky son-of-a-bitch all of my life—just like P said—but a piece of me, the piece that wasn’t a fucking idiot, knew the goddamned deal.

I knew that I would never be fully worthy of her.

That smart piece figured that maybe I should just let her end it all right here. Right now.

Dani wasn’t entirely wrong.

Even though I’d been her staunchest protector…
I was also her biggest fucking threat.

I stare down the barrel of “her” gun.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” I throw at her.

“People tried to kill you, Dani. They tried to before, and they’ll try again. And then, you without a memory? You were low-pickings… Ripe for the taking. The old Dani was hardly prepared for this. The new Dani… would’ve been
steam-rolled
by it.”

I shake my head slowly.

“But you’re so fucking stubborn. I never wanted to change you before, but now? I’d give anything if I could strip that pig-headed streak from you. It’s going to get us killed.”

She scoffs, giving a dry laugh.

“
Streak
? This is no ‘streak.’ It’s my fucking lifestyle. You should get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” I admit, surprising myself. “Believe or not… being with you has always been one big surprise. I must be the stupidest… or the sappiest
fuck
… in the entire world because
despite all the bullshit
, I seem to be incapable of leaving you the hell alone.”

My gut tightens at my own words, and Dani starts to lean towards me. A pull at the center of my chest seems to draw me to her, but before we can come any closer, she raises her gun abruptly.

I lose my patience with the bullshit. I lower my own gun.

“
Here
… You still don’t trust me? Take my gun… That’s right. Fucking take it.
Here
… Right here is all the trust you’ll need.”

Dani glances at my outstretched hands, her hands finally starting to shake on the handle of the pistol. Her eyes flick between it and me.

“I don’t need your trust,” she whispers, her voice nearly fading among the sound of the pounding rain. “I just need the truth.”

“And what if I give you both?” I reply. “Would you fucking listen to me then?”

“Not really, no.”

“Then shoot me.”

I toss the gun at her feet, letting it bounce in the mud and grass.

“Point the gun at my head and pull the goddamned trigger.
It’s not going to stop the way I feel about you
.”