Retaliatory Justice (The Talionic Files #1) Read online

  June 28th

  I walk quickly down the hall, my team following close behind me, heavy with concern. I look like crap, the area around the stitches is already showing some bruising and my eyes are bloodshot and strained. Clayton had been the first to ask me about it when I entered the debriefing room but I had shaken my head. I wasn’t going into it there, in front of everyone. There was a lot of muttering until Anderson called us to attention. As Jeff closes the door to our room, they all lay into me, bombarding me with questions.

  “What the hell happened?” Clayton asks, his voice rising above everyone else.

  I wash my hands over my face and motion for them to sit down.

  “Enrico sent me a message,” I stare blankly at them. “When I came home last night Tony Martin was in my house.”

  “Oh shit!” Jeff replies and there is a lot of mumbling and more questions. Finally, I raise my hand to stop them.

  “He could have killed me. He had me. But, instead, he only threatened me. Before you ask, he simply said that if I, or any of my team, came near Enrico again he would kill me.”

  “Kill you, not the team?” Michelle asks.

  We all glance at her. “Yeah,” I answer, frowning. “So I guess you’re safe,” I reply bitterly.

  “That’s not what I meant. It was an unusual thing to say,” she says, glancing down.

  “It is odd though, to threaten you and only you,” Zach agrees.

  “Yeah, well, next time I see him I’ll ask him to be more clear in his threats.”

  “So what the hell, are you all right?” Clayton asks.

  “Yeah, only three stitches.”

  There’s a knock on the door and we watch as Jeff answers it and shamelessly flirts with the secretary bringing us the message. She is clearly embarrassed but that doesn’t stop him. When he turns to us, Zach and Clayton are shaking their heads in disbelief and Michelle is giving him a death glare.

  “What?” he asks innocently.

  “You’re an idiot!” Michelle turns, annoyed.

  He hands me the slip. “Agent Adams can’t make it tomorrow. He has rescheduled our meeting with him to Monday,” I read aloud.

  “Good!” Zach and Clayton say in unison.

  “All right, let’s get to work.”

  June 30th

  The next couple of days were uneventful. We gathered more Intel on the weapon that we think the Sicignano family is after. Clayton was able to get a picture of it from one of his friends in Afghanistan. He and Michelle have been following up on some local leads on that. Zach has been looking into the man from Nebraska, trying to ascertain if he has any connections to New Orleans, while Jeff is tailing Fisher, who we also saw that night. We don’t have much on Winston, which frustrates me. I am keeping tabs on Enrico but there has been little movement on that front. We all agreed, based on what we had walked in on and the fact that Enrico had actually sent someone to my home, that we were indeed on to something. We are all gathered in the room discussing what we found out when Zach jumps up, startling us all.

  “I found him!”

  “Who?” I ask, because we already know about Stenson.

  “I got to thinking that maybe Enrico would want to launder the money for the guns through a restaurant like he does here.” We all nod.

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” I concur.

  “That would be the best way. That’s a lot of money, and if the restaurant was successful like it is out here then it would be easy to do and it would give him credibility,” Michelle interjects.

  “Exactly! So, I decided to play around with it, did some research and guess what I found?” We all shrug, so he turns the computer around with a wide smile on his face. “Meet Mr. Marshall Winston, also known as Mr. Marshall Beauchamp.”

  “Holy shit, that’s him,” Clayton exclaims loudly.

  “Put it on the screen,” I say excitedly.

  It’s a picture of three people, dressed nicely, standing in front of a restaurant. “Who are these other people?” I ask, facing him.

  “It says Mr. Winston owns the restaurant with Phillipe De la Fosse and Whitney Badour. Get this, they bought it four weeks ago.”

  “Four weeks, huh? Hell, that’s a mighty big coincidence,” Jeff says.

  I turn to face the screen again, crossing my arms. “This is it. This is Enrico’s link to the guns.”

  “We calling that Adams guy to check Beauchamp out?” Clayton asks.

  “No, not until we have a little more information. We’ll meet with him Monday.” I turn to face them. “Keep this under your vests. Something feels off. My address isn’t on the grid. It’s under an alias and nothing links me to it. I don’t know how Tony found me because I know for a fact that I wasn’t followed home.”

  “You think there’s a mole, someone in the agency?” Michelle inquires.

  “Not sure, but until I know, everything stays with us.”

  ~*~

  I’ve been picking at my food for a while now. Staying with Lynelle and Joseph has been nice, but I do miss my privacy. I’m not used to talking to people so much, and Lynelle is a talker. The minute I come inside the house she wants to know how my day was, what my plans are, etc. I love her but it’s a bit suffocating.

  “Do you have any of those frequent flyer miles?” I ask Lynelle.

  “Of course, are you thinking about traveling?”

  “Thinking about checking out New Orleans,” I say as I glance at Joseph, who’s giving me a questioning look.

  “Oh, New Orleans is wonderful…” Lynelle begins telling me all the spectacular places to go, and the exquisite food to eat, but I’m not listening. I just need to get there. I need to see this guy and do a little surveillance of my own. Anderson can’t prevent me from going away for the weekend. If I just so happen to run into Marshall, then so be it.

  July 1st

  I fly into New Orleans the next morning and check into my motel quickly. It’s just a little dive place called the Royale, but I don’t care. I’ll only be here for the night. Once I’m checked in, I head out to the restaurant. I have been watching the place all day. I have surveyed the entire building and there are a few ways in and out. There are cameras at the back entrance so I couldn’t get too close without being seen. There is also an emergency exit on the right side of the building. I decided to eat at the restaurant this evening, hoping for the chance to find the owners and follow them.

  “Sir, how is your gumbo this evening?” I turn to the waitress, who is smiling at me.

  “It’s wonderful. Thank you,” I reply distracted.

  She steps away as I notice the waitress I saw earlier pushing a tray to the back. That same woman had come in fairly early and then an hour later several other people arrived. I saw the man we identified as Phillipe walk out of the kitchen about thirty minutes ago and not long after that the woman with the cart was going towards the back of the restaurant. This is her second trip back there, which has me very curious. I tap my fingers on the table, contemplating my next move. I have not seen Mr. Winston, or should I say Mr. Beauchamp, or the woman as of yet but that doesn’t mean they didn’t come in through the back entrance. I glance around the restaurant one more time and then rise, heading in the direction that the woman with the cart went.

  I walk towards the back, slow but with purpose. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. I glance behind me one last time before I turn the corner. Several things happen at once. I come face to face with the food cart and duck out of the way of it but in the process, I smash right into the waitress who was delivering the food. She starts to fall and I’m paranoid that she’s going to get hurt and that Mr. Winston or who knows who else will come rushing out and find me here, but also, hell, it’s not her fault I crashed into her.

  I grab her and hold her in place. I think I ask her if she’s okay and I think she answers me but I’m lost for a moment as I gaze into her eyes. They’re sad eyes, eyes that have seen pain, eyes that can see me. She is stunning and
I immediately think of that actress, Zoë Kravitz. She has beautiful olive skin with long braided hair that she has tied back in some kind of low bun. Her lips are red, full, and now slightly parted as her tongue peeks out. I blink several times, trying to snap out of it. She stands abruptly and proceeds to yell at me for being back here and it’s cute and sexy and I want to screw her right here and now or, I don’t know, maybe, I want to talk to her, get to know her better. I smile and try to get my composure back, get the upper hand here, but she holds her own, eventually shooing me out. I drop a hundred on my table and head outside. I figure I’ll watch the back entrance to see if they leave from there. I stick around through the entire dinner service, figuring since they didn’t come in the front way they would likely come out the back. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

  “All right, Masterson, now what?”

  I wash my hands over my face and decide I need a drink, maybe pick up someone and release some of this tension I’m holding. As I’m sitting at the bar across from the restaurant, I’m feeling highly disappointed. Instead of thinking about what I need to do with this case, my mind keeps drifting back to the pretty waitress with the attitude. I shake my head and start pondering the case again. I need to go back to Chicago tomorrow and I haven’t accomplished a damn thing. I need to get inside that restaurant, but I can’t. I may be reckless but I know damn well I have no probable cause to sneak around inside there.

  “Can I refresh your drink?” I hear beside me and automatically smirk, perfect!

  I turn and am floored beyond belief. It’s the waitress from the restaurant. She is dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a flimsy blouse. Her hair is now down and falling loosely past her shoulders. I’m immediately drawn to her. I want her, more than I have ever wanted anyone else and that scares the crap out of me.

  Present Time

  July 2nd

  Dominique’s gentle kisses against my chest bring me out of my thoughts. Last night with her was the best night of my life. After our initial romp, we had laid with each other, talking for over an hour before we had sex again, no, before we made love. Because what I did with her, I hadn’t done with anyone before. I almost hate to leave this morning, but I hate even more the idea that I won’t be able to see her again. Her hand moves down my stomach. Her eyes shift up to me and they are playful. She smiles and then straddles my hips, moving against me.

  “God, I want you,” I murmur.

  She smiles brilliantly at me. I only had one condom on me and she had one as well, which we used last night. I generally don’t carry more than one rubber in my wallet because I never spend the night with anyone so I’m a little disappointed that we won’t be able to have sex again this morning. I watch her as she moves against me with more intensity, moaning and biting on her bottom lip.

  “I wish this place had a condom machine in the wall like they do at bars,” she says very seriously.

  I can’t help but laugh, which causes more friction against her, making her grunt loudly.

  “What, I’m serious,” she moans out.

  This girl is something else. She’s sexy with an attitude to boot. She starts grunting and grinding against me as she continues her ministrations. I won’t be able to hold out much longer but I really want to see that face she has when she’s excited and ready. She starts panting and making these squeaky grunts and then it’s there, that look of utter bliss as she’s overcome by her orgasm.

  “Valentino,” she draws out my name sexily.

  She continues to touch me and soon I’m grunting and pushing against her until I reach my own peak. When my body finally stops moving, she giggles and rolls off me. I arch my brow at her, not sure what the giggle is all about.

  “Sorry, that was just,” she snickers again and now I roll on my side to look at her.

  “You know, most men aren’t secure enough to have a woman giggle at them.”

  Her expression changes. “Oh God! Valentino, it’s not like that. I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  I laugh and run my thumb over her lips. “I said most men. I, on the other hand, am quite secure in my ability to satisfy a woman.”

  She narrows her eyes and for a moment, I think she’s angry but then she smiles and pushes me on my back, resting her elbow on my chest. “Without boosting your ego any more than it obviously is, I will admit that I am very satisfied,” she states with a smile.

  “Good to know that my record still stands,” I say running my finger along the outline of her face. Her expression changes slightly so I add, “You’re amazing, Dominique. I had the best time with you last night.” I give her a smirk as I run my thumb over her lips. “And this morning, as well.” She smiles and rolls her eyes so I know she isn’t angry at me, which, for some reason, pleases me. “Do you want to get breakfast before I leave?” I ask softly.

  “Sure, that would be nice.”

  I grin and roll her to the side as I jump out of the bed, invigorated. “I’m gonna rinse off. I’ll be right back,” I say and see her nod. “God! I’m starving.”

  As I’m taking a piss, I realize, for the first time in a long time, that I am happy. I feel great and I know it’s a direct correlation with Dominique. There’s something about her. I know I’m being selfish because I can’t have her, but I want her. Maybe I could delay my flight and we could hang together, maybe pick up some more condoms. I smile at that thought. I flush the toilet and then turn to the shower, flipping the water on and then get another idea.

  “Hey, Dominique, come rinse off with me,” I holler.

  No response. I walk to the bathroom door and step out into the bedroom but she isn’t there. Well, that’s weird. I go to the foot of the bed and grab my boxers and pants, pulling them on quickly. I step outside the room and look both ways, not seeing her. I then gaze across the street and our eyes meet for only a moment before she slides into the back seat of a taxi. She didn’t even say goodbye. I laugh at that thought and shake my head.

  “Well, this is new. Usually I’m the one trying to get away as soon as possible.”

  I step back inside my room and am enveloped by the emptiness in my life. All those years I pushed people away. All those women I didn’t care about, the ones I left in bathrooms and bars. I did things with Dominique differently and here I am, standing in an empty room like some kind of chick. If that ain’t karma, then I don’t know what the hell is.

  12 Regrets

  Dominique Walker

  July 2nd

  “I’m gonna rinse off. I’ll be right back.”

  I nod happily as he yells that he’s starving. I wish we were at my place. I would totally cook for him. Wait a minute, maybe we could run to my place. I could cook him a huge breakfast. I also have condoms in the nightstand. I chew on my lip as I smile. I really like that idea and something tells me Valentino would like it too. I jump out of the bed to go suggest it when I stub my toe on something hard. What the heck was that? I carefully toe his pants out of the way to see what it was and jump back slightly, treating the gun as if it were a snake ready to launch at me. What the hell does he have a gun for?

  “Stay calm, Dominique. If they are criminals…” Jackson begins.

  Oh my God! I turn to the bathroom and immediately flash to how we met. He was sneaking towards the private dining room where Phillipe and the others were. What if he was trying to get close so he could kill them or something? My hand shoots to my mouth to stifle my gasp. What if he’s some kind of criminal too? My hands start shaking as I stumble to get dressed as quickly as possible. As I get to the door, I hear the toilet flush. I run out of the room as fast as I can and see a cab across the street. I holler at the cabbie to stop, and just as I’m opening the back door, I see him. He’s standing in the doorway, watching me leave. Sighing heavily, I slide into the cab.

  “Where to, ma’am?”

  I rattle off my address as I watch Valentino slowly walk back into the motel and shut the door. On the drive to my place, I feel the guilt rising up.
What is it about me? First Phillipe tries to pursue me and I am pretty confident that he is up to no good and now this guy. What the hell have I gotten myself into that I am coming across all these criminals? Maybe I should call my dad, get his take on things, but I know he’ll just tell me the same thing that Jackson keeps telling me to do. QUIT! Jackson doesn’t trust any of them. But I can’t just quit. Not now. We got word the other day that we will be interviewed for a feature that Bon Appetit magazine is doing on our restaurant and I want that. More than I probably should, but it’s true. Being featured will help me find other work. I have to stick around for that.

  “Twenty three dollars, ma’am,” the cabbie says as he pulls in front of my place.

  I take a deep breath and hand him some money before sprinting to our front door. I stand outside of it for several long minutes.

  “Where have you been, Dominique? I was worried about you,” Santiago says, wrapping his arms around me the minute I step into the house. He steps back for a moment and his mouth parts. “Holy shit! Did you have sex?”

  I step back and frown. Great! I have the morning after ‘walk of shame’ look about me. That’s just perfect. I step away from him, even more frustrated with myself than I was a little while ago. I start to walk into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee when Santiago stops me.

  “With who… Phillipe?” he asks as I scowl.

  “What? No, I’m not having sex with one of the owners of the restaurant who may very well be a criminal,” I stutter angrily.

  “I’m sorry, you’re right, of course, but don’t be coy, Dominique.” He lets go of my arm and places his hand on his hip. “You look like you just rolled out of bed and you have that ‘I did something’ look on your face,” he says with a wave of his hand.

  “Fine,” I say with a sigh. “His name was Valentino. I met him over at Night Hawks.”

  His hands cover his mouth but it isn’t enough to conceal the yelp he makes before he grabs my hand and drags me over to the couch. He sits with one leg over the other, facing me, his head resting on his arm, which is perched on the back of the couch. His typical ‘tell me everything and don’t leave out a single detail’ pose.