Chapter 5 ~ Strangers

Lower East Side: 11:42PM

Swinging a long leg over the seat of the Harley, Ryan strode toward the bar. He inhaled deeply; his body almost hummed with anticipation as he headed toward the stairs.


The stench outside the bar was not nearly as bad as the smell inside when Ryan entered Chip 'n' Dale's. He frowned as the smell of stale beer, sweat, smoke, and odors he would rather not think about hit him squarely in the face. Why anyone would want to spend any length of time in a dive like this was beyond him.

He moved slowly through the place and slid onto a bar stool careful not to make eye contact with anyone or draw attention to himself and looked idly around. Ryan's cursory search of the place revealed his target at the pool table where the conversation between players was moving ominously toward a confrontation.

The bartender, an aging woman with a winged blue skull tattooed on her chest and a cigarette hanging from her mouth, threw down a coaster and rasped, "What can I getcha Red?" She eyed him suspiciously; it wasn't often that a stranger would walk into the place that wasn't looking for trouble of some kind. "Can't say that I've seen you around here before..."

Ryan bristled at the moniker as he surveyed the array of smeared glasses and the half full bottles of liquor behind the bar. "Just passing through." Opting out of drinking anything hard out of those glasses he ordered, "Beer, no glass."

Nursing his beer, Ryan swiveled around and watched the crowd gathered around the pool table in the back of the bar. Deacon was running the table. His opponent, who was so drunk he could barely stand, was growing increasingly irritated with each shot. For every ball Deacon sank, the man volleyed with a derisive taunt until it was finally over and Deacon had taken the last of his money.

"Come on man, gimme another chance! That's a week's wages!"

Deacon laughed at him, got right in his face and sneered, "Don't look like you earn a hell of a lot. You want to play with the big boys you better be ready to put up or shut up. Maybe you should get your worthless ass out of here before I have someone throw you out."

If his instincts were right and the telltale bulge in his shirt was any indication, the drunk had a gun tucked inside the waist of his jeans and was just stupid enough to try something. If Ryan could see it, no doubt Deacon and his boys could as well. It was obvious where this was headed and Ryan used the situation as the opening he needed. He slid off the bar stool, eased carefully toward the table and waited. As anticipated, the drunk took his shot, one that could easily get him killed.

Grabbing him from behind, Ryan forcefully moved the drunk toward the back door as he growled in his ear. "That was a stupid move, man, unless you've got some kind of death wish. Keep moving and if you're lucky you won't die." Shoving him through the door, Ryan as well as Deacon followed him out to the rear alley.

The drunk pulled himself off the pavement muttering obscenities the entire time. He jerked the gun from its hiding place and waved it threateningly at him. "Maybe you're the one with a death wish!" He lunged at Ryan who easily sidestepped him, grabbed his arm and threw him with considerable force against the building. The gun fell with a loud clatter and Ryan kicked it away.

His deep voice rumbled menacingly, "I tried to be diplomatic; now you've gone and pissed me off." The drunk had barely steadied himself when Ryan struck.

Ryan hit him hard with a right and then punched him again in the gut, a solid shot that left the drunk reeling. Ryan knew the guy probably wouldn't be able to take much of a beating but he didn't care. It felt good inflicting pain. Every blow was cathartic and by the time he was through, the drunk lay in the alley behind the bar groaning and his face bleeding profusely but not moving.

Turning to leave, Ryan threw a sideways glance at Deacon as he attempted to move past him but found his path blocked by the man. He leveled dull, dark and angry eyes directly at Deacon, who stared back at him with a somewhat amused but suspicious expression on his face. "We don't usually get complete strangers stepping into the middle of things around here for no reason. So what's yours?"

Shifting his weight slightly, arms relaxed but ready by his sides, Ryan responded, "Just trying to avoid an ugly situation, you know, he shoots you, your guy shoots him, next thing you know the place is crawling with cops and there I am in the middle of it. All I wanted was to pound a few beers back before moving on."

Deacon's eyes narrowed and his expression was cold as he sized Ryan up. "Did I give you the impression I needed someone to watch my back?" His mouth curled into a sneer as he moved closer.

Ryan drew a deep breath but didn't back away nor did he allow his gaze to leave Deacon's face. "Just my instincts taking charge. Bad habit. Now you want to let me pass or am I going to regret not letting the asshole shoot you?" His voice was steady and the veiled threat behind it was unmistakable.

Deacon smiled enigmatically, "You've got a lot of balls that's for sure. Are you looking for work? I just might have a use for those instincts."

Ryan let a few minutes pass before answering in order not to appear too interested. He almost regretted not getting into it with these assholes. Folding his arms across his chest he looked back at the still form of the man he just beat to a bloody pulp."I might be, if the price is right."

Deacon nodded his head at the guy who had stood quietly next to him the entire time, never taking his eyes off Ryan. Without a word, the man picked up the gun that lay in the alley, moved toward the groaning drunk and shot him in the stomach, wiped the prints with his shirt and tucked it safely away. Deacon chuckled as he spoke, "No one crosses me and lives to talk about it. You have a problem with that?"

Ryan shrugged as he watched as Deacon's thug dragged the lifeless body toward the abandoned building across the alley leaving a trail of blood in his wake. Ryan's face was as expressionless as his voice, "The guy had it coming."

Pounding Ryan on the back Deacon grinned broadly. "The name's Deacon Angelis; come on, let me buy you a drink."

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Chapter 4 ~ Conspire

"Ryan." She managed to choke out his name. Seconds seemed to drag on as Melinda tried to quiet the noise thundering in her head and still the pounding of her heart. Taking a steadying breath, she managed to rasp. "What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"


Ryan shifted his gaze from Melinda to the little girl allowing his attention to linger on her small face before sliding his eyes back to Melinda. "Is there somewhere we can talk?" His voice was flat, emotionless and dour.

"Yes, of course, let me just get Thalia settled back in bed and put something on. You can wait down there." Mel inclined her head toward the stairs that led to the lower floor of the house and started for the stairs leading up.

Thalia stood rooted to her spot, an uncharacteristically stubborn act and despite her mother's repeated pleas urging her to follow as she disappeared up the stairs. Choosing instead to stare at the large man who stood in the foyer she whispered so as not to be heard by her mother. "Are you my father?"

Several moments passed until he gently shook his head. Ryan's face softened for the briefest of moments, "I'm not your father."

Without a word, Thalia turned quickly and padded up the stairs behind her mother.


Melinda made her way downstairs and walked quietly toward Ryan. His stance was rigid and tense as he idly twirled the ice in his glass and stared out beyond the beach. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder and spoke. "I see you found the Scotch."

As Ryan turned toward her she was struck head on by the fatigue and sadness that was in his eyes. "I was a little surprised you had a bottle of Glenfidditch behind the bar. As I recall you were always a gin drinker." A brief attempt at a smile was immediately wiped away.

"And I don't recall you taking yours with ice but then a lot has changed hasn't it?"

Ryan walked away from her, leaned on the massage table as if testing its ability to support him and drew a deep breath. "I ran out on you the last time we talked. As I recall you needed my help and it turns out I need a job. Let's talk."

After building a small fire, they sat on the rug each nursing a cocktail. Ryan sat quietly listening as Melinda explained her situation in detail. "I have no way of knowing how much Damian owed Deacon or why but I am afraid to call his bluff. I have managed to appease him with some payments but he comes around more often, he intimidates the girls as well as my clients and I know he is going to try and worm his way into my business using me in the process. I worked too hard to get where I am; my days of earning a living on my back are over and I'll be damned if I let him take it."

She looked in Ryan's eyes wary of trusting him or any man for that matter but she was out of options. "You may not like what I became but I did what I had to do to survive. Damian left me with nothing, that bitch he shacked up with had enough money to fight me for years in court over support and threatened to take Thalia if I didn't let it go. I didn't have anything left except her and I couldn't let that happen, Ryan, not my baby."

She fell silent toying with the loose pile of carpet before speaking again. "Deacon threatened Thalia, he said he would...do things...I don't care what he does to me Ryan, it won't be any worse than what I've already done but not my little girl." Melinda paused, drew a shaky breath and lifted her eyes to Ryan once more. "He murdered Damian, you know how they found him. I can't let him touch my little girl. I don't know what to do Ryan and I need help."

"You need to go to the cops and let them do their job Mel. I still don't know where I come in with all this."

Frustrated, Melinda stood and paced back and forth. "I can't do that Ryan. It's too risky! He could be watching me, for all I know he could have seen you come here! There must be something you can do, get information, or find a loop hole, anything! Ryan, I'm scared, more scared than I have ever been."

"Mel..." Ryan rose and walked toward her shaking his head. He tried to comfort her but she slapped his hands away.

"I don't need comforting; I need Deacon Angelis out of my life! You're trained, Special Ops, handled counter-terrorism and all kinds of unconventional shit I probably don't want to know about. I know this from all those stories you and Damian used to tell. I know what you are capable of Ryan. I am begging you to help me somehow!"

"Melinda there is no guarantee that dealing with Angelis will end your problems. Someone far worse could come after you! Do you even know how deep this guy goes?"

"That's what I hoped you could find out Ryan. I know enough about him to know that he answers to no one. He's an evil man Ryan, sick and twisted." She was coming unglued. Melinda held her breath until she could focus and then spoke in a muted but determined voice. "You cut off its head and the snake can't bite you anymore."

Ryan moved close to her, his expression was hard and tight, "And you want me to take off his head...this could get really ugly Mel."

"Will you do it?" Melinda watched for any sign of reluctance or hesitation, prepared to push it until he agreed. He was her only hope and she knew how dark he could go. She needed that. She watched as his broad chest expanded with each deep breath he took and waited.

"I can't have a paper trail that connects us. If I do this, I'm going in deep. You know what I cost and you can tack on half again as much. I also need your assurance that...if things go south; you'll make sure my kid is taken care of financially and otherwise. I don't...have anyone else."

"Done." Melinda wanted the strength his arms would offer if they held her. She wrapped her own arms around her instead. "Thank you Ryan and please, be safe."

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Chapter 3 ~ Choice

Melinda eased her Navigator into the parking strip, slipped a heavy sweater over her head and walked through the gate toward the back of her property. It was one of the very few estates in Cold Springs that had been built on the beach. The long drive back had given her time to think, sort out what her next move should be. An early snow had already begun to fall; her boots crunched with every step she took through the light dusting that blanketed the ground.


She moved gracefully toward the beach that backed up to her property. It was hard to tell where the steel gray of the sky and the water met as she stared out thoughtfully. Melinda shivered rubbing her bare hands absently over her arms as she considered what her next step might be. She couldn't go to the police; Ryan had been her best chance, maybe her only hope of coming out of this deal with Deacon no worse for wear.

Ryan...Melinda forgot all about the cold as she played back the scene at the bar in her head. She had gone over it like a broken record ever since their meeting. Why would she have assumed that he would read trash like Probe, assume that he would know. But she had, an assumption that had an entirely different result than she anticipated. It certainly had not been her intention to hurt Ryan, only to use the thing as leverage, a bargaining chip, an opening to a negotiation.

Now she was running out of time; Deacon would have his filthy hands securely in her business in no time at all, and in her life. Sighing she turned and deftly ascended the deck stairs hoping the nanny had lit a fire for her like she usually does. As she walked through the double doors Melinda glanced briefly at the massage table in the great room, hesitated, a massage would feel good right now, but instead continued up to her suite.


She paused and stoked the logs that crackled in the fireplace. Melinda liked watching the soothing flames as they licked voraciously at the wood. She sat in front of it and hugged her knees to her chest. As the flames continued to consume the logs she imagined Deacon burning in that fire. Better yet, Damian but then he was already dead. "Burn in hell, all of you," she whispered as she rose to draw a bath.

Adding a liberal amount of bath salts she eased her body into the tub and lay back allowing her mind to drift. Even dead, Damian continued to torment her and Deacon Angelis was the devil himself.

*****

Deacon sneered at Melinda before abruptly releasing his hold on her. “I’m a reasonable man Mel; I think we can come to some sort of understanding without resorting to any…drastic measures don’t you?”

Massaging her arms where he had gripped them, Melinda composed herself as best she could and responded in a tone that was more tentative than she would have preferred. “I am still unclear as to why you think I would take any interest or responsibility for my ex-husband’s business affairs. Threatening me isn’t going to get you anywhere, Mr. Angelis. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that I have a few connections of my own.”

Deacon laughed cruelly as he walked casually around her office. “You’ve got a real sweet deal here don’t you? Cops don’t bother you; for all intents and purposes you run a legitimate business.” He turned and leveled his gaze on her once more, hard and direct, “How is it that you get away with that Mel? You got some important dick in your pocket?”

Defiantly placing her arms on her hips Melinda took a step toward him; whatever he thought he was going to get from her, he would be sorely disappointed. “It is a legitimate business Mr. Angelis. I’m going to tell you again, we have nothing to discuss. Please get out of my office.”

Deacon leaned against the fireplace and grinned at her. “Now there you go again calling me Mr. Angelis! I insist you call me Deacon, sweetheart. I want money, fifty grand to start. No cops, no other interference at all. You’re a beautiful woman Melinda; I would hate to see anything tragic happen to you.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You listen to me,” she threatened, “if you want money go hit up Damian’s girlfriend. She has infinitely more than me. Damian has meant nothing to me for years and the same went for him.”

“See that’s the thing Mel. I thought about that. But there is no motivation for her to pay a red cent of Damian’s debts. I could kill her but I still wouldn't get my money. You, on the other hand, have all the motivation in the world. I’ve got leverage with you sweetheart.”

Melinda laughed bitterly. “So she turned you down flat. You think hurting me is going to get you what you want? You think I haven’t been down that road a time or two? Get real! Now get out of my office!”

As she turned her back on Deacon, he stepped up close to her, too close, and her heart began to race again. He chuckled softly and she could feel his hot breath in her hair as he eased in closer. “You know…this tough act of yours is turning me on baby. You like it rough? Tell me, how old is that little girl of yours, Thalia is it? I bet she tastes as sweet as her mama. Maybe the three of us ought to have an intimate little tea party.”

Melinda could barely breathe as panic gripped her and began to choke off the air around her. “She’s a child! You stay away from her!” Deacon relaxed his arms as he began to snake his body around her. She felt the muscles in his torso flex as he moved closer.

“You play nice with me Melinda. Don’t give me a reason to take my payment from your kid.” Deacon wrapped a muscular arm possessively around her waist. He gently dragged his fingers across her cheek and through her silky hair sending an involuntary shudder down her back. Deacon laughed, a deep, rumble that she felt as the hairs on her neck stood upright. “Fifty grand, end of the week, first payment. Oh and maybe a little something whenever the mood hits me…”

“Take your hands off me and get out.” Melinda spat through clenched teeth as Deacon abruptly released her and strode away.

“End of the week Melinda. Don’t make me go after your kid, don’t fuck with me and no one gets hurt.”


*****

“Mama?” Melinda snapped back to the present as a soft, timid voice called from beyond the door. The bath water had chilled and she shivered as she stepped out of it gingerly. Slipping on a robe, Mel drained the tub and opened the door to her daughter.

She studied her daughter's face carefully. Thalia was shy and quiet, not unlike her at that age, and did not have many friends. Mel vowed to do whatever it took to protect her from men like Deacon Angelis, men like her father. “Hey, Sugar Plum. I was just thinking we should split a sundae.”

Damian's green eyes, the only thing she seemed to have inherited from her father, gazed at her as Thalia answered her mother. Her timid voice was barely a whisper. “Mama, there’s a man downstairs. He said he needs to talk to you. He’s waiting in the hallway.”

Melinda's face drained of color. She stood there stunned, frozen with fear at Thalia’s words. “A man? And you let him in? Thallie what did I tell you about that? You never, never let a strange man in the house!”

"But mama, it's snowing hard outside! Please don't be angry!" Thalia pleaded as Melinda, terrified, hurried away from her.

"Stay in your room and lock the door Thallie!"

Melinda's heart pounded furiously as she rushed down the stairs, with Thalia trailing behind. Her eyes darted back and forth frantically for anything she could use as a weapon if necessary. Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs Mel stopped dead in her tracks, frightened and off-balance, and drew a sharp inward breath.

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Chapter 2 ~ Beginnings

Parkside Apartments: 8 Years Earlier



It didn't take long for the bank to foreclose on the house and Melinda scrambled to find a small apartment for her and the baby. Struggling to make ends meet, she took whatever employment she could find but the jobs never lasted and she once again found herself looking for work.

The options were slim; without any sort of degree or training there wasn't much she qualified for. However one job in particular drew her attention. The St. James was looking for a hostess. The hours didn't seem too bad, it was a bus ride away and the wages would do. Not that she would quibble over them; any paycheck was better than none. Melinda circled the ad, planning to call once she fed Thalia.

The following afternoon she headed for the job interview. Melinda had always been outgoing and friendly but she was nervous. Approaching the building, she hesitated. It didn't look like much from the outside and Melinda instantly regretted her choice of clothing. "Well, nothing I can do about it now," she sighed and went in.

Melinda's surprise was evident as she stared in awe at the inside of the place. It was very well decorated, clean, and elegant. Never judge a book, she admonished. Approaching a girl who stood by the stairs Melinda introduced herself, "Hi, I'm here about the hostess job; I called yesterday."

You must be Melinda. Charmaine will be out in a minute. Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?"

It struck her as odd that she would be offered a drink before a job interview. Maybe it was a test. Melinda shook her head and thanked the girl as she looked around. The place wasn't busy and she wondered absently how they made ends meet. Melinda hoped this would not turn out to be another dead end for her. She needed the steady work to pay the bills.

"Melinda?" A buxom woman approached her, smiled warmly and extended her hand. "I'm Charmaine deCoeur, the owner of this place. Why don't you come to my office and we'll get to know each other."

The conversation went the way most interviews go when Charmaine suddenly asked, "Are you ambitious Melinda?"

Mel stared at the floor not really knowing what to say. She chose her words carefully. "I got married practically out of high school, got pregnant almost immediately so I never really thought about ambition. I was deliriously happy right up to the moment my husband left me. Right now my ambition is to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. I'll work hard, that much I can promise."

Charmaine's smile never reached her eyes; there was sadness and understanding there. She had known men like Melinda's husband and felt some pity for the girl. Sighing, she rose, poured a whiskey and stated, "We have a rather loose dress code here. Do you have anything a little less...stuffy?"

The color in Melinda's cheeks rose as she recalled the way some of the girls in the dining rooms were dressed. "I suppose I do..."

"I like you Melinda. I'm going to let you in on a secret and if you still want a job here afterward, it's yours. The dining room does all right but I make most of my money upstairs...private entertainment if you will. The girls I hire to work the upstairs adapt easily to the demands of the...position. They change as easily as the weather. Will you have a problem with that?"

She hesitated, glanced over at Charmaine who studied her carefully and asked, "Do you expect me to..."

"I'm hiring a hostess, nothing else. If I wanted a...well let's just say I would not advertise that position in the Classifieds. Are we in agreement then?"

They talked for the better part of an hour and when the interview was over, Melinda had the job.

Chameleon: Present Day

"Melinda, there is a man here who insists on seeing you. I've tried everything short of having him bounced out but I think he will just keep coming back. He's a bit...unsavory."

Glancing up from her desk Melinda pulled back from the past and regarded the young woman thoughtfully. "Do we know who he is?" As Rhapsody was about to respond, a tall, muscular man pushed past her. He strode directly over to Melinda's desk, pulled up a chair and unceremoniously sat down.

Throwing his boots up on her desk he grinned although the expression never hit his eyes. "Deacon Angelis, that's who I am Melinda. Can I call you Melinda or do you prefer Mrs. Owen?"

Ignoring the comment, Melinda rose and shoved his feet off her desk. "What do you want Mr. Angelis?"

"Call me Deacon, sweetheart. I'm here to discuss a little business. It's...private." He shifted his eyes toward Rhapsody who had not moved from the doorway. "You might find it in your best interest to send the slut back to work."

Bristling at the remark and disliking being told what to do Melinda inhaled and then gestured for Rhapsody to leave never taking her eyes off the man in front of her. "You're rude and distasteful Mr. Angelis. Whatever business you have to discuss I'm not interested."

He stood; his face was stone cold, menacing, as his eyes bore into her. "Nasty piece of business your husband was, even nastier way to die, wouldn't you agree? I can only imagine the sheer torture it must have been for him." His mouth curled slightly as he advanced toward her.

Melinda stepped back as her heart began to pound in her chest. "Ex-husband, and whatever he was into or how he died has nothing to do with me. Now if you will excuse me..."

He grabbed her arm and pulled Melinda toward him. His face was twisted into a sadistic smile. "Now that's where we disagree. Damian owed me big time and I am here to collect from you, one way or the other."

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Chapter 1 ~ Death

Moisture collected on the window pane, tiny beads that glistened in the soft light. Melinda smiled wistfully as she drew the shape of a heart and then abruptly wiped it away, water gliding down like tears.



Love, it was something Melinda had closed herself off to since her husband announced one day that he was leaving her. The affair with their interior decorator should have been obvious but Melinda was young and deliriously in love with him. She begged Damian not to leave her promising anything, sobbing hysterically, "What about Thalia? She isn't even a year old! Please Damian, don't leave us!"

Damian folded his arms and smiled sheepishly. "You know I didn't want children Mellie. I'd be a terrible father."

"What am I supposed to do? Tell me what to do Damian? I'm begging you!"

He stood there and for a moment Melinda felt hopeful. "Sorry sweetheart, this just isn't working for me anymore. Well, Janet's waiting so I guess that's it." Damian shrugged his shoulders and without so much as a glance at their child walked out of their lives forever.


It was in that moment that Melinda locked her heart away and refused to ever hand it to another. She toyed with the chain to the small key she wore around her neck, a constant reminder that she alone had the power to unlock the vault of her emotions.

Melinda struggled in the months that followed his departure stretching the meager savings that he left for her until it was nearly gone. Damian never could hold down a job and Melinda had no skills to speak of having married him at such a young age. It had been next to impossible for her to find work.

On the rare occasion that he would call her, she would beg him to help financially. "You have to be able to send us something Damian. Janet has money, lots of it. Can't you spare something? They are going to take the house!"

"Sorry Mellie, Janet keeps a pretty tight fist around the purse strings. You'll figure it out."

"You do not understand how hard it is to find a decent job and take care of Thalia as well! I don't have any skills!" The desperation rose in her voice as she pleaded with him.

A wry smile formed on her mouth as she remembered his last words to her, grating and unkind."Well you always were a good fuck."


The quick tapping at her office door jarred her back to the present. Closing her eyes, as if to shut out the memories of the past six years, Melinda drew a shaky breath, "Come in."

"I'm sorry to bother you Ms. Owen but Detective Slater is here and he says it's important."

"That's all right, Marielle. Just give me a moment and then show him in."

Melinda sat at her desk, straightened a few things and waited as the detective entered. She didn't speak until the door was firmly shut. "Hello Luke, it's been awhile. Is this a social call?"

Luke Slater had been a vice cop for ten years before transferring to the Violent Crimes Unit and had become acquainted with Melinda during that time. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel some attraction for her but the job and Melinda's own reluctance prevented any involvement to occur. "No, Melinda it isn't."

Melinda rose from the desk and approached him, "I see...then what can I do for you Detective?"

"Ms. Owen...Melinda, there is no easy way to say this...Damian, your ex, he's dead." He watched her carefully for a reaction of any kind.

Melinda's breath caught in her throat as she struggled to maintain her composure. Stunned and in shock, she steeled her nerves before speaking. "When...how did it happen?"

"They found him in an alley late this afternoon. His body was mutilated Melinda."

"Mutilated...how?"

Luke shifted uneasily and averted his eyes as he explained in detail how they found Damian Owen's body and in what condition. "Melinda," his husky voice was soft, almost gentle, "the department is looking at you for this."

Melinda laughed harshly, "Believe me Luke if that man had any balls I would have cut them off and shoved them somewhere more fitting when he left me six years ago." Exhaling sharply she leaned against the desk, "Are you here to arrest me then?"

"No Melinda, I'm here unofficially, as a friend, to warn you. It's an election year and the mayor has been on the captain's back to shut you down for years. He thinks he can pin this on you."

She held his gaze for a long moment. He had kind eyes despite the rugged lines of his face. "Thank you Luke."

Slater hesitated as though there was more but instead turned on the heel of his boot and headed toward the door. He looked down as his hand grasped the knob and quietly offered, "If there's anything you need...legal advice...anything, please call me, Mel."

"I'll be fine Luke. You should go."

A surge of emotion rushed through her as she struggled to keep the tears at bay. She was unsure as to whether it was sorrow or relief that threatened to take hold. Placing a trembling hand on the phone she composed herself once more and placed a call. "Mayor Winslow, please."

Tapping a long scarlet fingernail on the phone she waited impatiently until she heard a man's brusque voice in the receiver. "Hello Garrett; it's Melinda. You've been a naughty mayor. Shall we meet; say 10PM, the private entrance?"

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