Page 60 of Dangerous Secrets

He hadn’t gone down on her yet. Chicks loved that. He could take it or leave it, but he’d long ago figured out it was a fast, easy way to make the woman wet and soft enough to take him fully. So it was basically a little speed bump on the way to what he considered real sex.

Suddenly, holding Charity’s head still, tongue in her mouth, he had a sharp, sudden hunger to kiss her sex. Exactly as he was doing with her mouth. Not as a prelude but as the main course. She was so soft down there, even her pubic hair. He flashed on the two of them in her warm bed on this freezing winter night, Charity spreadeagled on the flowered sheets, with his head between her thighs.

He could see it. Charity’s slim, lithe form stretched out, sharp hip bones bracketing her concave belly, pale breasts trembling with every breath, heartbeat visible in her left breast.

He loved it when she came, loved the feeling of the sharp contractions of her sex around his dick. Jesus, how much better would it be totasteher climax, feel her coming against his mouth?

Just the thought of it brought him fully erect, when he had nowhere to go with his hard-on. Ouch.

He broke away from her, breathing hard, and curled his fingers resolutely around the steering wheel.

Her mouth was wet, a little swollen, the way her sex probably was . . .

Think of something else.

Nick flashed on telling Di Stefano and his boss about marrying Charity. Their reaction, the reaction back in DC. It was like dipping his dick in a glass of ice water.

He smiled at her, at her confused look and nodded towards the house. “Go in now honey, or I’ll never get these things done. I’ll be back around five or six and we’ll spend the entire night . . . celebrating.”

She turned pink and Nick laughed and reached across to open her door. “Hold that thought.”

Charity turned and smiled at him. “You betcha,” she said softly and got out. Nick watched until she was in the house and the living rooms lights went on, then pulled out.

He called Di Stefano and was relieved when he got a busy signal. Bumped over to voice mail, he left a brief message that he was on his way.

Then he called Jake on his cell, on speaker. “Hey big guy,” Jake answered. “Or should I say rich guy?”

“That’s funny, coming from you. You have more money than God.” He heard Jake chuckle complacently, because he did. “You could buy me out with what you spend for breakfast.”

“Maybe. But I think I’m going to set another goal for you. How about another million by this time next year? I’ve been crunching numbers and reading some interesting stuff on Moldovan bonds. And there’s this new Brazilian company making hybrid cars. I’m going to make you so much money, you’ll figure it’s ridiculous keeping that job of yours and you’ll quit and do something that won’t get you killed.”

Perfect opening. “Hey Jake, about that getting killed stuff . . .”

“What?” Jake’s voice rose with tension, all humor gone. “What? Are you in trouble? Goddamn you, Nick, how many times have I told you?—”

“Can it, Jake,” Nick said wearily. Jesus, what had he got married for, when Jake did the nagging wife thing so well? “I’m not in danger.” Yet. “What I am is married. I think.”

“Youthink?Jesus, Nick, youthinkyou’re married? That’s like being a little bit pregnant. What the hell’s going on?”

The promise of that slate-gray sky was kept. Snow started falling in earnest, thick white sheets dropping out of the sky, reducing visibility to just a couple of feet beyond his front fender. Even he had to pay some attention here. “Listen, I don’t have time to explain. I want to change my will. I’m going to disinherit you. You okay with that?”

His first day in the Army, when he had exactly $10.75 to his name, when asked about next of kin and asked to make out a will, he’d put down Jake as his next of kin and beneficiary. Over the years as he renewed his will, that hadn’t changed. Jake had power of attorney over his affairs and was his heir.

If Jake didn’t inherit all Nick’s worldly possessions, even if they topped an unlikely million bucks, it wouldn’t make anydifference at all to Jake. What was a million bucks to him? Walking around money, that’s what it was.

“Hell.” It wasn’t the thought of losing Nick’s money that made Jake’s voice so somber. “You’re in trouble, Nick. I can feel it. Something really bad is coming down and you’re right in the middle. Oh my God. Oh shit. Ohfuck. I just flashed on your funeral. Fuck this, fuck whatever you’re doing. Wherever you are,get out now!”

Jake’s voice rose with anxiety.

A trickle of sweat ran down Nick’s back. Jake’s hunches were good, almost as good as his. Jake was a genius at crunching numbers, but his incredible success was also due to the way he could sniff trouble coming and could slalom his way out of it, fast. As the Wall Street Journal said, ‘Jacob Weiss’s hedge fund, JLW, has demonstrated a sixth sense for emerging markets and, in today’s volatile world, an even more useful sense for tanking markets. JLW has the golden touch—it knows, to the day, when to abandon ship.’

When Jake talked, markets listened. More to the point, when Jake talked,Nicklistened. Ordinarily, when Jake said jump, Nick answered how high? He couldn’t bail now, though. There was no way out now but straight through the heart of trouble.

Nick didn’t even try to snow Jake. He was too smart to swallow false reassurances. “Whatever’s coming down, Jake, I’ll deal. You know me. I’m harder to kill than a cockroach. But there’s a new element now. A . . . a woman. I . . . married her.” The words were hard to get out. They sounded surreal and false. He was married. He wasn’t married.

Yes, he was. No, he wasn’t.

This was messing with his head.

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