Sacred (Kenzie & Gennaro 3)

“Jeez, Desiree, it’s all working out for you.”

She gave me a small bow. “It usually does, Patrick. Sooner or later. Price was supposed to be sitting where you are, but then he screwed up and I had to improvise. Then it was supposed to be Jay in that chair, but another couple of screwups and I had to improvise again.” She sighed and ground her cigarette out on the desktop. “That’s okay, though. Improvisation’s one of my specialties.”

She leaned back on the desk and gave me a broad smile.

“I’d clap,” I said, “but I’m sort of incapacitated.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” she said.

“Since we’re sitting here without much to do before you murder your father and me, let me ask you something.”

“Shoot, babe.”

“Price took the money you two stole and hid it. Right?”

“Yes.”

“But why’d you let him do that, Desiree? Why didn’t you just torture the information out of him and kill him?”

“He was a pretty dangerous guy,” she said, her eyebrows arched.

“Yeah, but come on. In the danger department, I bet you made him look like a sissy.”

She leaned forward and looked at me with mild approval. She shifted again and crossed her legs up on the desk, held the ankles with her hands. “Yeah, in the end, I could have got the two million back within an hour if I felt like it. It would have been bloody, though. And Price’s drug deal wasn’t half bad, Patrick. If that ship hadn’t sunk, he would have had a ten-million-dollar payday coming.”

“And you would’ve killed him and taken the money the moment he collected.”

She nodded. “Not bad, eh?”

“But then heroin started floating up on the beaches in Florida…”

“So the whole scam was null and void, yes.” She lit another cigarette. “Then Daddy sent you and Clifton and Cushing down there, and Cushing and Clifton took Jay out of the equation, and I had to improvise once again.”

“But you’re so good at it, Desiree.”

She smiled, her mouth open, the tip of her tongue running lightly under her upper teeth. She lowered her legs to the floor and came off the desk, walked around my chair several times, smoking, and looking down at me with a radiant sheen in her eyes.

She stopped and leaned against the desk again, her jade eyes holding my own.

I’m not sure how long we remained that way, staring into each other’s eyes, waiting for the other to blink. I’d like to say that as I looked long and deep into Desiree’s shimmering green eyes, I understood her. I’d like to say I recognized the nature of her soul, found the common link between the two of us, and therefore, among all human beings. I’d like to say all that, but I can’t.

The longer I looked, the less I saw. Porcelain jade gave way to hints of nothing. And hints of nothing gave way to an essence of nothing. Except, maybe, naked greed, brazen wanting, the polished soul of a machine that knew only how to covet, and very little about anything else.

Desiree stabbed her cigarette out on the desk beside the other one, and dropped to her haunches in front of me. “Patrick, you know what sucks?”

“Besides your heart?” I said.

She smiled. “Besides that. What sucks is I kind of liked you. No man has ever rejected my advances before. Ever. And it turned me on actually. If we’d had the time, I would have gotten to you.”

I shook my head. “Not a chance.”

“Oh, no?” She came forward on her knees and laid her head on my lap. She turned her head onto her left cheek, looked up at me with her right eye. “I get to everyone. Just ask Jay.”

“You got to Jay?” I said.

She nuzzled her cheek against my thighs. “I’d say so.”

“So why were you stupid enough to say ‘Fail-Safe’ to me at the airport?”

She brought her head off my lap. “That’s what tipped you off?”

“I was sitting on the fence about you since we met, Desiree, but that’s what knocked me off it.”

She clucked her tongue. “Well, good for Jay. Good for him. He set me up from the grave, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

She leaned back on her haunches again. “Oh, well. Lot of good it did him. Or you.” She stretched her torso and ran both hands through her hair. “I’m always prepared for contingencies, Patrick. Always. Something my father taught me. As much as I hate the prick, he taught me that. Always have a backup plan. Three, if necessary.”

“My father taught me the same thing. Much as I hated the prick, as well.”

She cocked her head to the right. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah, Desiree. Really.”

“Is he bluffing, Julian?” She looked back over her shoulder.

Julian’s impassive face twitched. “He’s bluffing, dear.”

“You’re bluffing,” she said to me.

“’Fraid not,” I said. “Dear. Heard from your father’s attorney today?”

Headlights arced through the house as tires crunched the gravel outside.

“That would be your father,” Julian said.

“I know who it would be, Julian.” She was staring at me, her jaw muscles moving almost imperceptibly.

I looked as deeply into her eyes as I’d look into the eyes of a lover. “You kill Trevor and me and make it look like we killed each other, it won’t do you any good without an altered will, Desiree.”

The front door opened.

“Julian!” Trevor Stone bellowed. “Julian! Where are you?”

Tires pulled away on the gravel outside and headed back down the drive toward the front gate.

“Where is he?” Desiree said.

“Who?” I said.

“Julian!” Trevor called

Julian moved toward the door.

“Stay,” Desiree said.

Julian froze.

“Does he roll over and fetch bones and shit?” I said.

“Julian! Jesus Christ, man!” Trevor’s decrepit footfalls drew closer on the marble floor outside.

“Where is Danny Griffin?” Desiree said.

“Not answering your calls, I take it.”

She pulled her gun from underneath her sweater.

“Julian! In the name of God!” The heavy doors burst open and Trevor Stone stood there leaning on his walking stick, dressed in a tuxedo with a white silk scarf, his body trembling against the cane.

Desiree pointed her gun at him, her arm rock-steady as she knelt on the floor.