French Kiss Part 27

Thirty-six.

J ohnny stopped by Nicky's office shortly be fore lunch. Deliberately. After being introduced around, he said, "Do you have time for lunch at Chez Panisse?"

"No, but maybe I could make time, if you felt like paying me back later tonight," she said with a smile.

His plans were highly equivocal, but he lied and said, "Sure," because he wanted what he wanted. A bad habit, perhaps, but one of long standing.

And as though lying always required its reckoning, as they were eating lunch, Johnny's cell phone rang. Kazuo had information on Yuri. Johnny tried to keep the conversation short, but even though he spoke as vaguely as possible, by the time he hung up, Nicky was looking at him strangely.

" That was mysterious. Is some woman on your trail? Not that it's any of my business," she hastened to add.

"It wasn't a woman," Johnny said, quickly. "Just a friend of mine I haven't seen for a while."

"A friend who's apparently going to Europe." The word Zurich had come up.

"Yeah."

"I got the impression he wanted you to go along."

Johnny debated his reply. Although, he'd have to tell her eventually that he was leaving-like soon with Kazuo warming up his plane-would it be better or worse if he let her know now. f.u.c.k it-what was he waiting for? "Actually, I might fly out with him this afternoon. He wants me to scout out a hot new band with him."

"This afternoon?"

"You'll be safe. Barry and Cole are on duty." He felt like saying Yuri was meeting his buyer in Zurich, so you really are safe. But that might give a clue to why he was traveling to Europe. And the less Nicky knew the better. He didn't want her involved in this. He didn't want her to ever have to think about Yuri and Raf again. Mostly, he didn't want her to worry. Like Jordi, he wanted to protect her from all the major and minor road b.u.mps in life.

"On duty?" she hissed, her gaze heated.

"Look, it won't be for long. Just until things settle down a little."

"Until I met you, I didn't have to worry about things settling down," she muttered.

"I know, and I apologize. Believe me, people like Yuri and Raf aren't normally in my life, either."

"But these honest-to-G.o.d gangsters are in your ex's life! Don't forget that!"

The waitress who had come up with their desserts looked startled.

"We're discussing a movie script," Johnny said with a smile. "The creme brulee is mine."

"You lie well," Nicky murmured, as the waitress walked away.

"Would you prefer I tell her the truth?"

"No, I suppose not," Nicky said with a sigh, knowing he'd prefer not dealing with his ex's friends any more than she. "It's just that all of this is so outside the normal context of my world, I'm not sure which way to turn."

"Eat your chocolate cake. You'll feel better."

"Do you mind? I'm not a child."

"Sorry; I didn't mean it that way. I promise this will all go away. Very soon. Guaranteed."

"What the h.e.l.l does that mean?" Her voice had taken on an edge.

"I'm just trying to be rea.s.suring." White lies weren't really lies were they? They were just social necessities. "Look, I'll be back before you know it. In the meantime, though, I have a favor to ask. After work, would you mind going to that store with the rope swings with Jordi? She's been nagging me something fierce about taking her. She wants to pick out a rope swing for her tree house, and that's more your territory than mine."

Nicky gave him a jaundiced look. "Are you changing the subject?"

"No, I just thought of it, that's all." Add another lie to the lengthening list. "Ve rn ie has my charge cards, so buy whatever looks good to you and Jordi." He smiled. "And thanks in advance."

"Don't think I'm falling for this diversion," she grumbled, her fork poised over her slice of cake. "But I'll do it for Jordi."

No way was he going to argue about diversions. "I'll be back in a day or so," he said. "And if my friend, Kazuo, has time, I'll bring him around so you can meet him."

She didn't even want to know who someone called Kazuo was; not if she wanted to sleep tonight. Better to deal with the reality she knew. "I don't want Barry or Cole stepping on my toes. Agreed?"

"They'll keep their distance. It's just a temporary precaution anyway."

"So you say."

"Trust me on this one."

"It's not you I don't trust so much as your untrustworthy ex."

"She won't bother you again."

Each word was cold as the grave.

And on that point if nothing else, she believed him.

Thirty-seven.

Kazuo had a tail on Yuri, so he called to get an update as they were being driven to their hotel in Zurich. Setting his phone aside after a brief conversation he turned to Johnny. "Yuri's still waiting for his buyer." He grinned. "You wouldn't be interested in Catherine the Great's coronation ring if the price was right, would you?"

"No thanks, Kaz. Play it safe-that's my motto."

Kazuo's grin widened. "What if Yuri wants to give it to you?"

Johnny laughed. "Somehow I can't see Dutov the elder going along with the deal even if his son caved."

"I could guarantee you ready compliance."

"Much as I appreciate your offer, I think I'll stick to shopping at Costco."

"I was just looking to make this more interesting." Kazuo's gaze was amused.

"While I was looking for this to go smooth and easy."

Kazuo dipped his head faintly. "You're the boss."

"Not really. Your father's the boss, and for that I'm supremely grateful. But let's not complicate things."

"Smooth and easy it is, then," Kazuo murmured, although it was obvious he would have preferred a little sport. "From last reports, here's what's going down. Yuri's to meet his buyer tonight at SINNERS. Once the transaction is over, I'm guessing the buyer, Gurbanly, will want to take his prize back to Baku, Azerbaijan, where laws are-shall we say-more flexible. That will give us an opportunity to speak to Yuri without fear of being overheard by Interpol or any of the other agencies tracking Gurbanly's lamentable activities. Not that Dutov, the elder, doesn't have a penchant for torture, too," Kazuo said with a shrug. "But his son's a nonent.i.ty as far as the governmental agencies are concerned."

"f.u.c.king Lisa," Johnny muttered, words like torture way the h.e.l.l out of his universe. "If not for her, we wouldn't even be here."

"I never did figure out why you married her."

"Who the h.e.l.l knows why we did anything in those days," Johnny muttered.

"True," Kazuo grunted.

"And Jordi's more than a payoff for the train wreck of my marriage. Although her mother is beginning to really get on my nerves. I shouldn't be in Zurich chasing some lowlife. I should be home with Jordi and Nicky."

Kazuo's brows rose. "Did you say Nicky's at your house?"

"Just till all this blows over. Don't look at me like that. It's temporary, okay?"

"Whatever you say."

"That's what I say," Johnny growled.

"Relax. Marriage isn't so bad."

Johnny gave him a narrowed glance. "Don't tell me about marriage."

"Maybe if you marry someone who isn't into drugs next time."

"How about I don't get married at all?"

"Fine." But Kazuo was thinking he might have to begin looking for a wedding present after all-protests or not. Johnny was going out of his way for this Nicky woman. But obviously, this wasn't the time to have that conversation. "Would you like to meet my banker while we wait for the club to open? I have a little business to do with him as long as we're here and he could save you a bundle on your taxes."

Johnny grinned. "You don't know my accountants. But sure, why not? It doesn't hurt to listen."

The two friends spent a leisurely day, Kazuo's contact the stereotypical Swiss banker. Soft-spoken, well-dressed, an office like a movie set with manly furniture, real paintings, and expensive carpets. Over a lavish tea served by an in-house chef, he was able to offer Johnny the moon in terms of tax-free investments and high-interest bank accounts. But then Swiss bankers had been doing business with rich men for centuries. They understood balance sheets better than anyone.

The men had c.o.c.ktails afterward in their hotel suite and a light dinner before setting out to square accounts with Yuri.

They walked the short distance to a large medieval-looking structure on the lakesh.o.r.e that was flamboyantly illuminated with strobe lights. The building gave the appearance of having once been a church, the exterior exuberantly gothic from top to bottom, although the architectural detail was so crisp and clean it was more likely a nineteenth-century pastiche. But whatever its date, it was impressive.

Entering through monumental cast bronze doors, Johnny and Kazuo found themselves looking down into a large nave. The high, gothic-arched ceiling was supported by soaring, elaborately carved pillars, flickering torches on the wall bestowing a sinister, dungeon - like atmosphere to the interior.

A punk band on what once might have been the altar, had their amps ramped up high, the sound shaking the colorful pennants and banners hanging from the ceiling. The crowd on the dance floor below was wall to wall, people at the bar three deep, the din ear-splitting.

Johnny and Kazuo stood at the top of the broad stone steps descending to the main floor where bodies gyrated to the loud, energetic head-banger music. Every color of the rainbow emblazoned the bobbing heads below, heavy eye makeup apparently de rigueur for the predominately Goth crowd, body studs and tattoos, leather and chains the uniform of choice.

"See anyone you know?" Kazuo shouted above the raucous roar.

Johnny shook his head.

Kazuo made a drinking motion with his hand and pointed at the bar.

As they moved down the stairs toward the bar, Kazuo touched Johnny's arm and putting his mouth to Johnny's ear rapped out, "VIP section, first table on the left by the rail."

Three men were at the table.

Leaning in close so he could be heard, Johnny half-shouted, "Is the bald guy the buyer?"

"In the flesh."

Three men standing off to one side against the wall were obviously bodyguards: muscled, gimlet-eyed, casually dressed, each with a bulge under their armpits.

"Let's get that drink," Johnny said, feeling a rush. "And wait."

They had two drinks before the bald man stood up and walked away, one bodyguard peeling himself away from the wall and following him out.

"Now," Johnny said, pus.h.i.+ng away from the bar.

Kazuo followed as Johnny shoved his way through the c rowd. Taking the stairs to the V IP section three at a time, Johnny slipped the bouncer a large bill and stepped over the velvet rope that closed off the mezzanine level. The sound of the music was substantially muted in the area, as though money had the power to diminish long-term hearing loss.

Walking over to Yuri's table, Johnny pulled out a chair and sat down. Kazuo took the chair beside him.

"If it isn't the man who couldn't keep Lisa satisfied," Yuri jeered, swagger in his bl.u.s.tery tone and lounging pose.

"Everyone can't be a big-time supplier," Johnny silkily replied.

"Funny man. Hey, Raf, look who's here. Lisa's loser ex."

Johnny smiled faintly. "I doubt she's interested in you for your scintillating conversation or intellect. But we didn't come here to exchange compliments." He leaned forward slightly. "I came here to tell you to stay away from my girlfriend. I don't want sc.u.m like you anywhere near her. And while we're at it, stay clear of Lisa, too. I don't want you around my daughter." He sat back in his chair, his gaze ice cold. "I wanted to deliver the message in person so you understood my views. So everything was crystal clear. Stay away from them all. Got it?"

"You got b.a.l.l.s," Yuri sneered. "I'll give you that. Obviously, you don't know who I am."

"I know who you are. You're a f.u.c.king p.u.s.s.y."

At the sound of the word p.u.s.s.y, the two bodyguards pushed away from the wall, but a.s.sured of his family's power, Yuri stopped them with a raised hand. "You must have a death wish, pretty boy. Apologize, or you're dead." He smiled tightly. "Or maybe you're dead anyway."

"I doubt it. For starters I could shoot your b.a.l.l.s off right now if I wanted to. You don't have to look down. They're still there. But you might want to think about being polite to me or you'll be carried out of here on a stretcher. My Beretta is pointed right a t your crotch." They were a littl e more casual about weapons in Europe, since no one could buy them or by extension carry them. Unlike in America. Johnny and Kazuo were both armed.

"There's four of us and only two of you," Raf defian tl y challenged, although he glanced at their bodyguards for rea.s.surance.