Secret Honor (Honor Bound 3)

The blonde and the redhead looked at Clete.

Fuck it. When all else fails, tell the truth.

“Ladies,” he began, somewhat awkwardly, “the truth of the matter is, something has come up, and the party’s just about over.”

“Did I in some manner offend?” Eva Duarte asked.

“Absolutely not, my dear lady,” Clete said. “It is I who owe you both an apology.” He reached into his pocket and found two small wads of money Enrico had given him. “Please allow me to take care of your taxis,” he said, and gave them the money.

The redhead took it, tucked it into her brassiere, and left.

The blonde seemed reluctant to leave.

“If you will excuse me, Señorita?” Clete said, and passed through the other bedroom into the room where Enrico waited. “How long will it take you to get the car? I told Alicia Carzino-Cormano I’d pick her up in fifteen minutes.”

“Señorita Alicia?” Enrico asked, obviously confused.

“Von Wachtstein is going to meet her here. I just paid off the girls.”

“You made a little gift to your guests,” Enrico corrected him.

“Have it your way. The car?”

“Wait here ten minutes. I will have a word with Jorge, and then I will be in the drive.”

“OK.”

He left the small room by a door to the corridor. Now he had a short-barreled Browning auto-loading shotgun in his hand.

I wonder what people in the corridor are going to think about that?

Clete looked at his watch so that he would know when to go down to the drive, then went into the sitting room and helped himself to a straight shot of Jack Daniel’s.

And then he saw the blonde, Eva, standing in the door to the bedroom. He smiled at her uneasily.

“I thought you would not mind if I finished this exquisite Champagne,” she said.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “But I have to leave, myself, in just a minute.”

“Oh, what a pity,” she said. “I would really hate to think that you do not find me attractive.”

“I think you are very attractive, Señorita.”

She walked up to him. “And I find you very attractive, Señor,” she said, and after brushing her fingers over his lapel, let them drop below his belt.

He felt them lightly, but unmistakably, travel the length of his organ. Then she stepped away.

“Do you really have to leave in the next few minutes?” she asked.

“I really do,” he said, and walked to the door to the corridor and opened it.

“And if you said ‘another time, Señorita,’ could I believe you?”

“Yes, you could.”

“But you’re not going to say it?”

“Another time, Señorita,” Clete said.