Page 68 of Wicked Lies

“You know the way I feel about this, and family or not, it has to end.”

“I understand.” Carlos finished off the rest of the bourbon. “I’ll try again.”

“No, I’ll take care of it.”

Carlos’ eyes went wide.

“I’m just gonna talk to him, that’s all.”

“But this other thing I don't understand.” Carlos shook his head. “We own the South Beach cops.”

“Unless they’re getting heat from somewhere else,” Nick suggested, as he observed Carlos’s reaction. He’d come to this man as an ally, a friend, and the thought of deception made his chest hurt.

“Go, enjoy the night.” Carlos nodded to the VIP room. “I’ll do some investigating.”

Nick wanted to believe Carlos, but he never underestimated the length of Frank’s reach and the many ways he used people. His tenacity and one-mindedness kept him alive while most of his other New York rivals were long gone dead.

* * *

While Nick was with Carlos,Cheryl located the bathroom, locked herself in the stall, and first dumped the coke and then the baggie into the toilet. She’d flushed numerous times to get rid of all traces, so many times the women in line must’ve thought she had some intense stomach issues. If only she could dispose of her guilt as easily.

As Nick approached the banquette, she admired the self-confidence radiating off him, the way he owned every space he occupied. He motioned to a girl in black bootie shorts and a matching halter top.

“Good evening, Mr. Santoro. I'm Monique, and I'll be your hostess tonight.” Her wavy, chestnut-colored hair cascaded over her perfect figure.

Normally, Cheryl would’ve sized up the girl as competition, but her mind churned with questions. How would she explain why the cops had him pinned against the wall, and why she didn’t warn him beforehand? Or how after everything he’d done for her, she deceived him? Again.

Monique extracted the champagne from its ice bath and nudged the cork until it popped. She filled two fluted glasses, handed one to each of them and then faded off to blend into the sheer gauze separating each VIP section.

Nick draped his arm over her shoulder as the icy liquid numbed her fingertips. He leaned in and lifted his glass. “To the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Cheryl sipped the bubbly champagne and gazed at him over the rim of the glass. The setting and moment were perfect, but she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Nick, I have to tell you—”

“Shush.” He put the tip of his index finger over her lips. “You don't have to say anything. With all the bullshit I got goin’ on, your honesty is all I’ll ever need.”

Guilt swelled in her chest as she struggled for words that could blow his trust to pieces.

“Hey, Nick!”

An attractive couple approached their table, interrupting her thoughts. The man shared Nick’s Mediterranean features and sense of style, while the woman at his side had an exotic mix of flawless ivory skin, almond-shaped brown eyes, and a waterfall of straight, ebony hair. Her lithe figure was draped in a one-shoulder Valentino dress Cheryl admired in the Bal Harbour shops earlier.

The couple convinced her South Beach exceeded its quota for good-looking people. They greeted Nick affectionately in Spanish.

“Only English tonight,” Nick said. “Isabelle, Raul, this is Cheryl.”

“Carlos told us you were here with a gorgeous woman.” Raul slid into the opposite side of the booth.

“You must be special to lock this one down.” Isabelle pointed to Nick. “Many have tried, none succeeded.” She leaned into Cheryl. “I’ll fill you in on all the gory details later.”

“Don't believe a thing she says.” Nick winked at her.

After more good-natured ribbing, Cheryl and Isabelle settled into casual conversation about shopping in South Beach.

“I’m so glad he took you to Bal Harbour. It has the best stores.” Isabelle’s soft, lilting accent fit her personality.

Raul leaned into Nick with a serious expression. “I understand you saw Graciela today.”

“News travels fast.”

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