All in all, it wasn’t too bad a joint.
I sat across from a beautiful woman, and normally that would have been a good thing. But beauty was usually synonymous with deadly when it came to my dealings with the opposite sex, and with Electra Flacco the two blended together like gin and vermouth.
She possessed a charm that reflected her privileged upbringing, a sense of poise under pressure that most men would envy, and a manner of speech that assumed she wouldn’t be denied what she wanted. That was expected considering who she was. What I didn’t expect were the outbursts of girlish giggles and the genuine smile that graced her lips and lit her eyes in rare moments. It was surreal in a way — we could have been just another couple out for a raucous evening at Le Chat Noir and no one would have been the wiser.
She was dressed to the nines in a leather curve-hugging corset and matching pencil skirt. Her pale shoulders were draped by a fur stole, and a ruby the size of a hen egg glimmered from the choker around her neck. A stylish fascinator was pinned atop her scarlet bob, adorned in feathers and gemstones. A regular at Le Chat Noir, she had warm greetings for admiring patrons and hosts alike. She sipped a blend of Blavod Vodka and cranberry juice, appropriately called a Black Widow.
“How is it?” She gestured to the drink she ordered for me — a smooth blend of Wild Turkey, Courvoisier, St. Germain, vermouth and bitters called a Carre Reprise.
“Not bad.” I finished it and lifted a finger to the barmaid for a reload. “Cognac isn’t really my poison, but I can’t argue with this blend.” I took a look around the swirling array of movement, dancing, and boisterous laughter. “Gotta say I didn’t think this type of joint would be your style.”
“Oh?” She raised a coy eyebrow as she lifted her long-stemmed cigarette holder to her lips. “And what would you say is my style, Mr. Trubble?”
“Some Goth joint with pasty-faced vamps sipping Bloody Mary and waxing poetic about death.”
She smothered her giggles behind a velvet-gloved hand. “That’s a first. Glad to see I’m still capable of surprising.”
A mime-faced barmaid dropped off a fresh drink. I sipped slowly. “Can’t blame a fellow for the misunderstanding. The word on the streets is all about the men you’ve put on ice. Not so much about your charm and good looks.”
“Does that make you nervous, Mick? Some men can’t resist a bad girl. But you — you like the quiet ones, don’t you? Like your little lost girl, what’s her name…?”
“Natasha.”
“Natasha.” A wicked grin spread on Electra’s face. “Is she your speed, Mick? Sweet, quiet — does whatever you say?”
I smiled in return. “Not gonna bait me with that, Electra. When it comes to my speed, it whittles down to a single word: woman. After that I’m not particularly choosy.”
She laughed again. “I like you, Mick. It’s not often I come across a man I like. Most of the men I meet bore me to tears.”
“Most of the men you meet are probably scared to death of you.”
“I don’t see why.” Smoke trails whorled from her cigarette holder when she elegantly spread out her toned arms. “Isn’t this what the average man looks for in a woman?”
“The baby cousin of New Haven’s most powerful Don and a notorious killer in her own right? I don’t see why more men aren’t running you down, Ms. Flacco.”
She delicately dipped her shoulders as her gaze drifted to the stage. “I suppose that might have something to do with it. It’s a funny thing, being a dangerous woman. A man can be dangerous. He can be a known killer. He can be all that I am and still find an endless stream of women fighting one another for the chance to tumble in his bed. But a woman…?” She exhaled a stream of smoke and smiled. “It’s just the opposite.”
I lit a gasper and let it dangle from my bottom lip. “Guess that means you’re trading in your handgun for knitting needles and an apron, right?”
She threw her head back and cackled. “If my brother could only see that. He’d probably die laughing.”
“I bet. So tell me — how did you get in this line of business? I’d imagine your mom wasn’t exactly thrilled.”
“My mother died when I was very young. My father worked hard and didn’t have much time to invest in making me a proper lady. I followed my brother everywhere he went. Whatever Nate did, I wanted to do too. He eventually got tired of chasing me away and started to teach me stuff. When he went to work for my uncle, I’d already learned the ropes. I proved myself by earning big and taking care of business.” She puffed on her long-stemmed holder and smiled. “That’s how I got where I am today.”
I held my glass up. “To taking care of business.”
We finished our drinks and signaled for reloads. Electra leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “Speaking of taking care of business, how do we make sure your psychotic ex is on to us?”
I puffed on my gasper and spoke around the exhaled smoke. “I’ve been under Natalie’s radar long enough to spook her and take out her tech partner. That makes her pretty vulnerable right now. I gave the word to my tech-savvy friend to put me back on the grid a couple of hours ago. That should be long enough for Natalie to zero in on my location using her resources. I’m pretty sure she knows exactly where I am right now and has a few roaming surveillance orbots in the area. She should have a bird’s-eye view when we go upstairs and heat things up. I figure she makes a move. When she does it’ll be our best shot at nailing her.”
“Nailing her?” Electra swatted me on the hand. “Here I thought I was the sole focus of your masculine attention.”
“All kidding aside, this could turn ugly fast. You sure you’re up for this, Electra?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Her expression was deviously delighted when she stood and offered her arm. “What do say, Mick? Time to go upstairs and heat things up?”
I shook my head. My gut told me things were about to go downhill real quick. I knew our little plan was held together with duct tape and coat hangers, but maybe it was the atmosphere in the joint — a potent combination of sex and humor that made me giddy with the sense of invulnerability. Maybe it was the nonstop chain of drinks we’d downed in the last hour, or maybe it was Electra herself. She was a magnet and I was just a rusty nail unable to resist her pull. She was so confident, so fearless. So alive.
Maybe that was the reason I’d talked myself into trying to pull off the stupidest gambit of all time.
I stood and took her arm. “Why, Ms. Flacco. I thought you’d never ask.”
The heat ignited a bit early. The elevator doors hadn’t even shut properly before Electra wound herself around me and pulled my mouth to hers. She smelled of rose petals and the taste of cranberry and vodka still lingered on her tongue. The dizzying combination was more than enough to make my blood boil and try to give as good as she gave. By the time the elevator stopped I’d almost forgotten why we were there in the first place. Her naughty laughter and the filth she whispered in my ear awakened the kind of lust that shoved everything else out of the picture. I never even paused when my groping hand found the long switchblade strapped to her thigh. Her deadly reputation no longer mattered. The only thing on my mind was the softness that lay under her clothes.
The short walk across the hallway was an awkward shuffle with us intertwined, trying to hold on to the pieces of clothing that fell off in the elevator. She had my Bogart on her head; I had her heels in my hand. My coat was draped over one arm; she was draped over the other. I didn’t know where my tie was, but with her mouth on my neck it didn’t really matter.