pulled him to the sink, held a hand cloth under cold water and dabbed at the gash on the side of his head with a shaking hand. “Garrin, what in the world happened?”
“I'm all right, Alicia,” he answered, taking the cloth from her hand. “Don't fuss over me. I need a shower, badly. Then we can talk.”
She backed away. “Certainly. Of course. I ... I'll wait for you on the patio. I'm just ... so glad you're home.”
He could sense she was offended and hurt. “I didn't mean to be curt, kitten. I'm just ... well, it's been a rotten day.” He brushed her cheek with his hand. “Get me a brandy, will you?”
She turned to go, wiping her cheek.
He grabbed her wrist. “Alicia, you're crying.” It gave him an odd pleasure to see it.
“I was worried,” she explained, flushing. “But you're home now. Everything's all right.”
“Yes.”
“I'll get the brandy. Don't keep me waiting too long.”
He smiled at her, a dark ember lighting within that he had not felt for a very long time. “No, pet. Not long.”
He watched her leave the room, her negligee gossamer about her body as she moved, her long hair shining like an ebony mane down her back. “Beautiful woman,” he whispered as a tapestry of memories of her flooded into his brain. “And I own her, body and soul.”
Garrin Cross ducked gingerly into the shower and began to scrub everywhere, eagerly washing away the grime and filthy smell of garbage and blood. He had just lathered his hair and was letting the hot water rinse the suds down his back when he heard the bathroom door open a crack and a man's voice call out through the steam.
“I can't believe you went by yourself this morning, Boss. That was very, very foolish. How did it go?”
Cross turned off the water. “Hand me a towel and I'll tell you.”
The man obliged and stood waiting outside as Cross toweled off. A few moments later, Cross emerged, wearing a white terry cloth robe, slicking back his dark hair with a silver comb. His eyes, in one quick sweep, took in the tall, blond Swede standing by the door with every bulging muscle in his great arms taught, his jaw set like iron. He remembered this man as soon as he laid eyes on him. Erik Holst, his bodyguard.
“He tried to kill me, Erik.”
“Chang?”
Cross nodded and turned sideways to a gilded mirror above an ornate, ash wood dressing table. He pushed back his hair, revealing a bruised gash.
“Pretty, isn't it?”
“You shouldn't have gone without me,” the Swede said, his accent thick with disapproval.
“I thought everything was set,” Cross explained, the recollection of events re-forming faster on command now, playing one by one in his mind. “I thought everything would be okay. Chang called at six a.m., gave me an address, and said to come alone or the deal was off. He wanted to meet within the hour. At first, I hesitated, but then I figured too much was at stake for him to do anything to mess it up. When I got there, nobody was around. Then I looked over and saw him waiting by some buildings, so I got out and walked over there....”
“Hell's hounds, Boss. Don't you recognize a set up when you see one?” the Swede growled.
“I'm not a total idiot, Erik. I wasn't unarmed. I thought I could handle it. As I got closer, I could see it was Chang. He smiled and held out his hand to shake and I reached out to take it. Right then, as he held on to my hand, one of his cutthroats came up from behind and hit me over the head. I vaguely remember somebody throwing a plastic bag over my face and I struggled to breathe. They held me down on the ground until everything went black.”
The Swede looked shocked. Frowning, he bent forward to look into Cross’ face. “You say they covered your head with a plastic bag?”
“That's right.”
“Then how are you still alive?”
Cross rubbed his face with his palm and grinned. “That's a good question, my friend. I’m thinking he removed the bag to look at my dead face, but removed it too soon. The bag was not on my head when I woke up.”
The Swede shook his head. Cross could tell he didn't quite buy it.
“Sloppy, very sloppy,” the Swede said, disapprovingly.
“But it’s a good thing they were or you wouldn’t be here. Then what happened?”
“I woke up in an alley, soaking wet, with a headache and a bloody skull, but otherwise, none the worse for wear.”
“Well, you're one lucky son of the devil,” Erik grunted. “I can't believe professionals like Chang’s henchmen would be so careless. If it'd been me, you'd be dead.”
“Comforting,” Cross replied, hardly amused. “I believe I can trust you to make things right?”
The Swede looked pleased. “I was hoping you'd ask. Don't worry, I'll find out who did it. The incompetent creep's as good as dead.”
“Chang, too.”
At this, the Swede fell silent.
“I know it won't be easy. He has an entourage of bodyguards around him all of the time.”
The big Swede's gray eyes flashed. “That's why you were smart to hire me, Cross. You know I can do whatever you need done. Chang's history.”
The Swede turned to leave. Cross held out his hand, signaling him to stop. “I just want you to know, Erik, I appreciate your skill,” he said, his dark eyes narrowing, looking straight into the other man's. “And your loyalty. I know the risk you'll be taking. I also expect Chang will try to make you a better offer.”
“Don't worry,” the Swede said, allowing no emotion to enter his voice. “I don't believe in making things complicated. I only work for one man at a time.”
“Good. That's what I wanted to hear. You can trust me to make it worth your while. Tonight?”
The Swede shook his head. “This kind of thing takes a bit of time to do right. I need to find out his daily routine, where he’ll be when and with whom. With his security, it may take a while. But don’t worry….” Holst reacted to Cross’ disapproving frown, “I’ll get the job done and done right. I'm assuming you want more than just a hit; you want a message sent to anyone else who may be contemplating messing with you in the future. Am I on target?”
“You read me like a book.”
“Best stay home until it's over. No sense taking chances. If he were to discover you’re still alive, he could try again. For added protection, we should increase security around the property; put in a gatehouse and guard.”
“Fine,” Cross said with a shrug. “Whatever you think best.”
The bodyguard turned to go. Cross again put out a hand to stop him, his handsome features contorted
