a derelict parking lot and stopped the car. It was a strip club, but you wouldn’t know that from the outside. The building was painted black, there were no windows, and the sign out front was off. He knew what it was, though, his source had arranged a meeting there.
The club was not the kind of place he’d have chosen to hold a meeting but the man that he was about to meet was eager to impress. A strip club was far from anything that would impress Matteo, but the man didn’t seem to know that. He walked into the club, saw a woman on the stage, barely covered in a tiny bikini, her body upside down on a pole.
She was an attractive blond, but she didn’t have the appeal of Marie, not even close. He ordered a drink from the bartender and found a seat. He thought about Marie, about the things he wanted to teach her now that they were lovers. He wanted to introduce her to things he knew she’d never dreamed of, but most of all, he wanted to own her, body and soul.
He wouldn’t be rough with her, that wasn’t what he was after, and he’d never physically harm her, but he wanted… more. He knew she’d give it too, once she’d had time. He felt his pulse race and his skin heat up as he thought about her, and cleared his throat. Now wasn’t the time to think about that, he reminded himself.
Later, when he was alone, he could think about all the ways he’d please her. And the many ways she could please him.
“Mr. Mazza?” He heard a man ask, and looked around to find an overweight man dressed in a cheap suit behind him.
Randall Metrejean was the king of illegal gambling in the state, which was something in a state where most forms of gambling were legal, if tightly controlled. It wasn’t those illegal gambling dens that Matteo was necessarily interested in, though. He wanted in on the legal stuff as well.
“That’s me, Randall.” He’d only spoken to the man on the phone, but he had a file on him with a picture to identify him by. The man had more money than the state had in its coffers, but he wore cheap suits, drove a car that was falling apart, and lived in a double-wide on the outskirts of New Orleans, all to keep the heat off himself.
The law knew about him, there was no doubt of that, but he also had the law on his side. In his pocket, to be exact. Matteo needed those connections to get started down here. He had already had several gambling machines sent down here to use in the casino he wanted to open, disguised as an ice cream parlor. It was Randall that would help Matteo to get the permits he’d need to open a legal casino.
Matteo didn’t want to think about it too much, but it was more than gambling that would go on in that ice cream parlor. Those machines would dispense far more than coins for his clients, but he wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about that yet.
“Have a seat. Would you like a drink?” Matteo waved at the bartender and then at a chair as the wide man sat down. He wasn’t a very tall man, but he was… wide.
Randall plunged a hand with thick fingers through stringy black hair and looked at the stage. “Now that’s a sight worth waking up early for. Nicky sure is a fine woman.”
Matteo attempted to hide the sneer that threatened to mar his features. A man that knew the names of the dancers on the stage was very sad, in Matteo’s opinion. Surely, a man in Randall’s position would have better things to do than hang around strip clubs.
“I’m sure she is.” Matteo paused while Randall asked the bartender for a beer. “Now, I’d like to get right down to business…”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Let me watch the end of Nicky’s show.”
Matteo closed his mouth and turned his face away so the sad little man wouldn’t see the way he rolled his eyes. He’d much rather be at home, dreaming about Marie and their wedding night, but business came first. He’d dream about her later.
7
Marie took the tea-length silk dress from the hanger on her closet door and pulled the side zipper down. With a deep breath, she stepped into the dress before she pulled it up over her