After sharing a few bites of mashed potatoes with Natalia, I cut into my cod and my mouth starts to water. I rarely come to this restaurant because of its high priced menu and the fact that reservations are two to three weeks out, but when I do, I’m never disappointed in the food. The cod has a slight crisp to the outside and is white and fluffy on the inside. It practically falls off my fork as I dip it in the warm butter sauce.
Dinner is heavenly as we make small talk. Tara is an accountant for one of the large casino chains in town. She’s constantly bitching about her job, but I think her attraction towards her boss keeps her from finding another one. Practically every night I get a rundown of what he did and how great his rear looked in his suit. Sometimes I even get pictures…
“Oh my God, Carly. Check out the ass in that pair of jeans,” Tara says across from me. I follow her glance and watch as the tall, broad man heads towards the backroom of the restaurant. He’s following behind the rest of his party, which gives me the perfect view of his very nice rear end fitted oh-so-snuggly in a pair of dark denim. His entire being is hypnotizing with his large, muscular frame and cocky swagger. He screams sexy with a touch of bad boy, and for the first time in a lot longer than I want to admit, I feel my blood flowing and my breath quickening.
“Earth to Carly.” I hear her words moments before she waves her manicured hand in front of my face.
“Sorry,” I mumble. I’m sure I’m eight shades of pink right now.
“Don’t be sorry for checking out some guy’s ass. I never am,” she adds with a wink before we both laugh. I glance back over, but the man is gone, disappearing behind the closed door. Something felt oddly familiar about him, and that leaves me slightly unsettled.
As we wait for the check, my attention is drawn back down to my daughter. She’s contently playing with her toys, tossing them onto the floor as she waits for her auntie Tara to pick them up again. She may resemble me with her lighter olive complexion and her dark hair, but when I look into her eyes, I see her father. With every big, toothy grin she awards me with, I’m pulled deeper into the memory of that night. As I softly touch her head, I glance over her shoulder one more time towards that closed door. I don’t know why, but I’m drawn to it; like something new and fresh awaits me on the other side. Like gravity pulling me towards the unknown.
But that can’t be accurate. Mom always told me that you make your own destiny. And my destiny sits right next to me with a teething ring and half a cracker shoved in her mouth.
Chapter Six – Duty Calls
Blake
I have this crazy feeling of déjà vu as I sit across the table from the head of the Hernandez organization. When I was walking through the restaurant, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, leaving me feeling unsettled and off. I had taken in the room as I walked through the place, glancing at faces for any sign of recognition. Nothing registered, though. Yet, for some reason, when I got to the doorway, I turned back around and scanned the tables a little closer. No one registered. A handful of businessmen enjoying a meal, a few couples, and even two women dining with a baby. While gravity pulled me towards those two women sitting across from each other, laughing with their heads together, I don’t know anyone with a baby so I moved on.
Now I’m sitting across from Roman, his brother Mattias, and anyone else who matters as we discuss the latest problem with Jimmy Mo. An associate of Roman’s owns the restaurant so meetings are held in private, in the back dining room, reserved for our party.
“The problem has been dealt with,” Mattias confirms to the small room.
“Excellent. What do we have on the horizon?” Roman asks as salads are set down in front of each of us.
“A few smaller jobs, nothing too big and flashy. Styx was compiling the list from the database in the system. We should know more later this evening,” Mattias confirms.
“Blake, I want you and Styx to organize the heist. Make sure it goes off as planned this time with no fuck-ups. We can’t afford another screw up like earlier this week,” Roman says, pointing his fork at me.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get with him later on,” I confirm before going back to my salad.
“What’s the latest on the Lambo job that was botched?” Roman asks as his large steak is set down before him.
“It will be ready by the weekend. The bodywork is top notch and the repaint is almost ready,” I tell them before cutting into my own steak.