Chapter 11

Alfred, Darius's butler, heard a sharp knock on the kitchen's front door where he was closing the window shutters and stiffened. He looked at the Hublot wristwatch his master had given to him when he had turned seventy, and he grimaced. It was past twelve. Who could it be? He asked himself. The master never receives late visitor, and the late caller should have used the doorbell instead of knocking so hard on the door, so who could it be? He came out of the kitchen and heard the knock on the door. The loud sound jarred on his ears and stiffened his nerves. He hesitated. Should he inform Mr. Kane that somebody was at the door at this ungodly hour? Or should he open the door and see who it was? He knew his boss would be in his study right now and won't want to be disturbed, and he had never asked for permission before he opened the door for anyone in the past, so what was he worried about? He thought. He should be doing his job.

Sedately, he walked across the living room to the front door and opened it.

Colby's bleeding body fell forward and sagged against Alfred's old body. Reflexively, the butler caught hold of the body, then shuddered and released it. He screamed.

"Mr. Kane! Mr. Kane!"

He heard a loud scuffle sounds from the above room, followed by the bang of a door, and a few seconds later, Darius appeared at the front door. He was wearing pajamas, and there was a look of apprehension on his handsome face.

"What the…?" but he did not complete his words when he saw the thickset body of Colby lay sprawled out on the floor, covered with blood. Quickly, he moved towards the body and knelt beside it. Then he turned to the butler, whose face was white with shock, and snapped at him.

"Alfred! For Christ's sake, pull yourself together and call Doctor Hamilton. Tell him to bring an ambulance with him. A man has been shot."

The butler nodded and hurried away. Colby lifted his head weakly.

"The bastard…shot me right through..." his voice sounded so far away.

"Shhhh…don't talk, man," Darius said in an anguished voice. "I got this."

He grabbed hold of one of Colby's thick arm, slung it over his neck, and drew in a sharp breath as he had heaved Colby up. It was excruciating pain as he finally made it to the living room with the dying man leaning his whole weight on him.

He left Colby in one of the settees and dashed into one of the rooms only to reappear with a medical first aid kit. Alfred came in and told him Doctor Hamilton was on his way. Then he collected the first aid kit from Darius. Alfred had dealt with many wounds in the past, and Darius watched him with keen interest as he worked on Colby.

Twenty-five minutes later, Colby was lying on the settee. His face was white and sweaty, but his wound had been skillfully bandaged. For the moment, at least the bleeding had stopped.

"Who is he, sir?" Alfred asked in his squeaky voice.

Darius sighed and dragged his hand through his hair.

"He works for me, Alfred."

Colby opened his eyes.

"You're right, Mr. Kane. Damn right! That sonofabich is going to fix her."

A cold fear clutches at the heart of Darius, and slowly, he moved towards Colby.

"Colby! I want you to relax, alright? You've been shot, and you've lost a lot of blood. Please, I need you to relax and tell me who's going to fix who."

"I don't need to tell you…" he whispered. "It's right here! It's all right here," and he dipped his hand into the inner pockets of his blood-soaked jacket, but nothing came out with it.

"What are you looking for?" Darius asked, looking at him oddly.

"I thought… I thought," He murmured. "Mrs. Montreal is…" he tried to continue, but faintness overtook him and his eyes closed. The mention of her name brought Darius out into sudden sweats, and he almost screamed.

"Mrs. Montreal is what?"

"I think he's tired." Alfred whispered from behind him. "he must have lost a lot of blood."

Darius turned a look of anguish on his face.

"I caused this Alfred; I caused all this. I should have let sleeping dog lie. But how was I to know this would happen?"

"Don't blame yourself, sir. It's not your fault this happened."

Darius nodded his head, but he looked more miserable than ever. The butler shuffled away only to come back with a bottle of whisky. He moved towards Colby and put the glass to his lips. The wounded man drank it greedily.

"Mrs. Montreal...is…in…a lot of trouble…" Colby murmured. "The tape…the tape..." He drifted off into unconsciousness.

Darius wiped his sweating face and moved away from the body. He was completely unnerved. What tape? He wondered. What tape could Colby be speaking of? Does the tape had to do with the reason why he was shot? Then two things happened simultaneously. The telephone in the room started into life, and the doorbell sounded. Darius reacted instantly. He lifted his eyebrow for Alfred to go for the door as he crossed the room to the telephone. He picked up the receiver.

"Who is this?"

"Am I speaking to Mr. Kane?"

Darius hesitated, thinking what this was all about. Just then, Alfred came in, and right behind him was a tall, thin man with grey, steady eyes, chalk-white hair, and was dressed in a fawn suit. His name was Reed Hamilton, and he was Darius' private doctor. Two powerfully built men, in a white coat, followed in from behind him as he entered. Their white skin was as clean as soap and water could make it and was stiffened with starch. Darius turned his attention to them and gave the tall man a weak smile. The man returned the smile, saw Colby's body lying in the settee, walked to him, and began to inspect his body.

"Hello, are you there?" the caller continued.

"Yes! Yes!" Darius answered hastily.

"Alright! My name is Bennett Burns. I'm one of the men instructed by Colby to watch Eva Montreal. Colby gave me this number. He told me if anything happens, I should call you, are you listening?"

Darius sighed relief flooding through him.

"Yes, of course. Anything you've got for Colby?"

"No! Nothing much. I've been trying his number for a while now, but he's not picking his calls. So I decided to call you."

"That's fine. Can you come to my place? I hate to break this to you, but I've got to. Colby has been shot, and right now, he's in my place."

He heard the caller drew in his breath sharply, and he grimaced.

"I'll come right away. Please give me your address."

Darius gave him the address and dropped the receiver back to its cradle. Then he moved to where the tall man was, shook hands, and dragged his eyes to Colby.

"Will he make it, Doc?" he asked.

Doc Hamilton drew in a long, slow breath.

"He's been shot in the thigh, arm, and stomach. The stomach got him real bad. The bullet cut through a great deal of fat and nicked his intestine. He had lost a lot of blood, Alfred did a very good job stopping that blood, but right now, he needs urgent medical attention."

"Will he make it?" Darius persisted.

The doctor heaved heavily and inclined his head.

"If the proper attention is giving, I think he will make it," and he nodded his head to the two men in the white coverall.

Darius watched as the two men moved up on Colby, hauled him up as if he weighed nothing, and carried him outside to the waiting ambulance. Doctor Hamilton reassured Darius that Colby would be given adequate treatment, told him to pull himself together and that he would keep him updated about Colby's health, shook hands with him, and bowed out. Darius moved to the cocktail cabinet and fixed himself a drink of Campari, whiskey, and soda while Alfred went to get a towel and hot soapy water to clean the bloodstains on the settee. Then Darius went up the stairs to his bedroom and later return to the living room dressed in a leather jacket and slacks.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang. Alfred went to get the door and later came into the living room with a tall, solidly built man. He had a red fleshy face, a hooked nose, and a shrewd, private detective's mouth. He wore a windcheater, pants, and brown suede boots. He regarded Darius as he was a movie star and introduced himself as Bennett Burns. Darius came to him and shook hands while Alfred retired to his room. He offered Bennett a drink of whisky, but he declined and instead settled for a cigar. Darius lit a cigar for himself, waved Bennett to a chair, sat in one too, and when they had both lit up, he said ;

"Colby was shot this night! And I believed he knew who shot him. The only problem was that he faded out before he could say anything."

Burns shook his head and grimaced.

"It all comes down to the line of our work. It's very risky. At times, when I think of it, I always feel like a rabbit who has a ferret as a companion in his burrow."

Darius sighed.

"Colby is a damn good private detective. I will never forgive myself if anything happens to him."

"Pull yourself together, Mr. Kane. He's a strong chap, you'll see, he's going to pull through. But what are you going to do with his car? Would it be dangerous to leave it outside just like that?"

Darius sat bolt upright.

"What car are you talking about?"

Bennett looked surprised now.

"Of course, I meant Colby's car. It's parked right outside your house. I recognized it when I got here."

Darius felt sweats broke out on his face. If truly Colby's car was outside the house, that meant trouble. He rose to his feet instantly.

"Follow me! But I'll feel better if we've taken something with us, a weapon, so to say," he said in a shaky voice.

Bennett grinned wolfishly. " I've got one right here," and he put his hand inside his jacket, and a long Filipino knife appeared in his hand. He held it out for Darius to see. The menacing blade glittered its lethality.

Darius smiled weakly.

"Well, it looks simple, but it will have to do! Let's go."

The two men stepped out of the house into the hot, moonlit night. A few distance walk, Bennett pointed to a red car that stood under a palm tree group just a few yards away from the penthouse.

"That's it!" Bennett whispered. "Colby owns a red Buick. Right there is a red Buick. I'm damn sure of it!"

Darius squinted at the car, fighting down a feeling of fear. It was the Buick, alright. Even in his wounded state, Colby had had the sense to leave the car somewhere out of sight. Darius knew they had to be very careful now. If Colby had driven down here by himself, then there is a possibility that the shooter might have tailed after him and might be lurking around in the dark, watching them. Darius grimaced. Out here, they were like sitting ducks.

He said to Bennett: "Let's check it out first, alright? but watch out for anything unusual."

The two men approached the car, keeping in the shadows. Darius walked quickly to the red Buick, his eyes looking left and right for any sign of danger. When they got to the car, They both stiffened with fright. The body of the car was riddled with bullet holes. They both gathered courage and came closer to the car, paused beside it, and then peered in their head through the car window. The moon's hard white light was sufficient for them to see the dark stains on the bucket seat's white leather.

"That's blood! My God! This is the work of a professional," Bennet said in a hushed voice.

Darius nodded, and he walked around to the passenger's seat. He opened the offside door and slid in. Then he flips open the glove compartment and rifles through it; seeing nothing of importance, he snapped it close and was about to slide out of the car when his foot touched something. Puzzled, he looked down and, with his right hand, reached out for the object. He picked it and held it up to the growing light. It was a leather kit with a zip. Inscribed on its body were the initials: C. W. Rush.

He swallowed hard as he stared at it. He knew it belonged to Colby, and suddenly, he felt reluctant to show it to Bennett. He turned to see whether the man was watching him, but the private dick was busy checking out something in the car booth. Darius slipped the leather kit into his inner pockets and slid out of the car.

"Find anything?" Bennett said, wiping sweats from his face as he came around the car to face him.

Darius shook his head. The sight of the bullet holes had scared him, and he felt as if he had received a punch in his belly.

"Nothing! Not a damn thing in there," he managed to say.

Bennett swore under his breath.

"Damn! That bastard sure knows how to shoot. With the way he had shot at this car, no way one of the bullets wouldn't have hit Colby, and something tells me he must have taken any piece of information Colby might have found. Cause, I know him. He always has one or two things on him, especially when on a special investigation like this. Are you sure you did not find anything in there?"

Darius shook his head and swallowed hard. He knew he should have shown Bennett the leather kit, but it was too late to do that. Right now, it felt as heavy as a lead of secret inside his pockets, and he could not bring it out.

"What are we going to do with this?" Bennett continued looking at the car as if it was something he wanted to be rid of immediately.

Darius brooded for a moment.

"The cops must not see this. We'll park it at my place, but let's clean off that damn blood," and he slid into the car, took out a thick towel, which he had seen inside the car safe, and began to dab away the sticky blood on the seat.

Ten minutes later, he told Bennett Burns to get in. Darius thumbed the car starter, shifted gear, and let in the clutch. He drove up to his penthouse, then into the garage and parked the Buick. Then he and Bennett got out.

"Do you have anything on Eva? Anything at all?" he asked Bennett when they were outside the garage.

Bennett drew in a long, slow breath.

"Not a damn thing! She's only going to the stores to get something and go back home. She never visits anyplace, nor is she seeing anyone. But if I have something, I'll let you know."

Darius inclined his head.

"Please do that! and Bennett, I think it would be in our best interest if we keep everything quiet, don't you think?"

"Don't worry about me; I'll hold my tongue. Well, I think I better go now. So long"

Darius nodded and shook hands with him, collected his cell phone number, and watched him disappear into the night. Then he returned inside the house and ran up the stairs to his study facing his bedroom door and slid in. He brought out the leather kit and stared at it. He noticed it was stained with blood. It must contain something valuable, he thought. Then he unzipped it. He stiffened as he saw a note pad and a tape recorder. He brought out the items and slowly walked to his desk. He lowered himself in the chair, reached for his cigar, and lit it. He picked the note pad and began to read Colby's well-written words. Though the information there was small yet it was enlightening.

Colby's note began:

Acting on one of my clients' instructions to watch Vince Montreal, I visited the Prima Casino this night. Luckily, though very handsome, I saw a man looked totally out of place from the people inside the casino. The clothes he wore nearly knocked me off my seat. I watched him enter a lift, and then a few minutes later, I saw him and Vince Montreal came out of the lift together, and both walked out of the casino. I put two and two together, and I know the hit was on. Then I followed them to one of the secluded areas of Miami Beach, and hopefully, I believe my tape recorder would do the rest of the talking for me.

Darius sat back, feeling sweats on his head. The tape! The tape his what would hit the nail on the head about who the strange man was. He dragged his eyes to the tape recorder and stared at it, wondering what information it might hold. Then he braced himself, picked it up, and pressed down the play-back button. Two different manly voices filled the room instantly, and Darius felt like a boxer who had taken a low punch as he listened to one of the most dangerous conversations he had ever heard. When the tape was done, he pressed the play-back button with unsteady hands and listened to the recording again. Finally satisfied, he thumbed down the stop button.

He relaxes back in his chair, feeling sick and uneasy. He needed a drink badly. The words he had heard had shaken him violently. He reached for his cigar but noticing his unsteady hands; he withdraws his hand back. He had played a hunch following what Eva had told him on the phone, and yet again, it had panned out. Vince Montreal! The bastard was going to fix her! He was going to fix her with a handsome killer. A killer who a woman like Eva will never stand a chance against. Who was he? who is this killer? And he had said he would fix her for free? Why? Why would a killer say something like that?

The only person who had seen this killer's face was Colby, and right now, the private dick was not in good shape to say a word, at least for the moment. Then he stiffened as a realization hit him. Colby must have recorded the tape this night, which means one thing; the killer Vince had hired was the one who shot Colby. He must have seen Colby and, knowing the danger of someone knowing of his existence, had shot right at the private dick. He might even have tailed after the private dick after he had shot him.

Darius dragged his hands through his hair. The only way to do this was to get the tape to Eva. If she listens to it, she would know her life is in danger and that Vince was not a man she could trusts. Yeah! I must get the tape to her. Then a strange idea came to his mind. Suppose they use the tape to get a divorce from Vince instead of that threat Eva counted on? Though Eva believed she had been able to win Vince over about giving her a divorce, what he had heard from the tape had proven otherwise. Vince was not ready to give her anything and was even planning something sinister for her. But with the tape, if they threaten Vince with it, they would expose his secrets, the man will have no choice but to give her what she wants. Darius grinned. The tape was the key they had been looking for. The tape is what would fix Vince. He toyed with the idea of calling Eva with the number she had used to call him in the past and thought better of it. He checked his time. It was past twelve already.

Vince would be at home now, and it would be unsafe to call Eva at this time. I'll call her tomorrow, he told himself, and he got up, stripped off his clothes, took a hot shower, then he put on new pajama trousers and flopped into the bed. In the darkness, he thought about this mysterious killer, Eva, and Vince. He thought of Colby, too, wondering what would become of him. Then the power of sleep closed over him and washed all these thoughts out of his mind.

The next morning, his cell phone ringing, which stood on the nightstand, made him almost jumped out of bed. He stiffened to attention and glanced at his wall clock and saw it was twenty minutes past eight. He cursed under his breath and picked the cell phone. The contact name on the screen brought him out in Ice-cold sweat. It was Reed Hamilton. As he pressed the receive button, he had a hunch that something bad had happened to Colby, but he pushed the thoughts away. He asked, his voice barely audible.

"Doctor! his he alright?"

"Mr. Kane, I'm sorry to disturb you this morning," Reed Hamilton replied, his voice sympathetic.

He felt his hands trembling as he gripped the cell phone, and he was beginning to feel bad.

"Please, don't beat around the bush, just tell me he's alright?"

There was long, uncomfortable silence at the end of the telephone, and he was ready to blow his stack if the doctor did not say anything. Unable to control his emotions, he seethed out.

"Look! I can handle…" but the next words of the doctor shut him up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kane, but we lost him. He had lost a lot of blood am…" The doctor went on, but Darius was not even listening anymore. He sat motionless on the bed, his face grimed, his mind busy with thoughts. He had to find out who the killer was. Find the killer, he thought, and you save yourself and Eva. There was only one person who could help him out; Bennett Burns.

*******************

Eva Montreal lay in a hot, scented bath in her bedroom, which she shared with Vince. Beside her was a bottle of Ace of Spades. Her hands rested on the edge of the bathtub, and her white, long legs stirred the waters. In her right hand, she held a wine glass, and in the other, she held a cigarette between her finger. She sipped the drink, then put the cigarette to her lips and drew in smoke into her lungs. She exhaled and drew in more smoke. It was almost two weeks now since she had stepped out of the house. She had always been indoor doing nothing except reading fashion magazines, watching the latest fashion trends on T.V, and sleeping.

She was tired of the boredom, yet she learned that it was important for her to endure it. For now, she wanted to stay away from the outside scene for a while. She thought of Vince and grimaced. As far as she could remember, ever since the day he had agreed to give her a divorce, he had stayed out of her way and had minded his own business. There was no nagging, no complaints from him about her behaviors, and everything was back to normal, and she loved it that way.

She considered his sudden change of attitude a pretense, a way of deceiving her into her believing he was a changed man. Whenever she looks at his face, she would see the longing there and then something else, something like an evil hidden secret, but before her mind could dwell on it, it would quickly disappear. He still wanted her, she decided. She believed he still wanted to try to persuade her to change her mind about the divorce, but after a while, she noticed he seemed to have gotten used to the idea that nothing could ever happen between them.

She switched her mind to Darius, and a smile touched the corners of her lips. Eva had noted the shock in his voice when she called to tell him Vince had agreed to give her a divorce. Men! She thought, They we're always full of ego. He had not believed her when she had told him that Vince had finally agreed to give her the divorce and was even suggested to her that Vince might be up to something. Of course, he was jealous. That was the only plausible reason why he would suggest something like that. He could not believe that she would be able to handle Vince on her own. But inwardly, she knew everything he had done; he had done it with deep love and passion.

She thought of what he was doing now, and she cupped her firm breasts. He was such a warm and caring man. He did not deserve someone like her. She wishes she could bring herself to love him, but she knew she couldn't. Well, she thought, I'll make it up to him one of these days. And yet, she knew nothing between them could last forever. How she wished Darius could forget about loving her so much and focus on making her happy; maybe she could bring herself to love him. She had vowed never to love any man, and she was not ready to break that vow. She sighed. Men like Darius makes boring husbands. Because he loved her so much, he would be so dotty on her, and he might even turn out to be a control freak.

If only she could find a man who would be as caring and loving as Darius and yet possess the gift of laughter and fun she had so much craved in a man, then maybe she could love again. But until then, she would keep her fingers crossed.

Eva stepped out of the bathtub, and trepid drops of water roll off her body as she moved noiselessly into the bedroom. She picked up a clean towel from the towel rack and dried herself. She moved towards the big mirror in the room and stood before it. Then she studied herself. What she saw was a woman with a slim body, long tapering legs, full high breasts, rounded hips with dark hair, big violet eyes, and well-shaped lips that craved to be kissed often. She moved to her clothes rack and selected a white off-shoulder T-shirt, and a pair of jeans ripped at the knees. She struggled into the T-shirt and slid into the jeans. Then she moved out of the room.

She entered the kitchen and fixed herself a chicken sandwich and an iced cappuccino. While she was eating, the thought of paying Darius a surprise visit came to her mind. What a good idea, she thought, I could even get him a cologne or a good tie as a surprise present. Since his office's address was on the business card he had given to her, then visiting him did not sound like a bad idea. After all, she thought, she deserved a bit of fun, and her watchdog of a husband who would have made the idea difficult was as out of the way.

So, there was no need for her been skittish about him seeing her with someone else again. And as she thought about it, the thought to see Darius overpowered her, and she rushed her meal and quickly went back Into her bedroom. She selected black high heel boots from the shoe rack, wore it, and then looked at herself in the mirror; and seeing that her choice of clothing was perfect, she dashed out of the bedroom. A few minutes later, the front door opened, and Eva stepped out of the house.

It was now 14:59, and she squinted her eyes as the rays of the red ball of the sun hit her face. She sashayed to the garage and opened the big double doors. A limousine, Maybach, Bentley, and a Ferrari Porsche stood in the garage. She moved towards the Bentley and got into it. She coaxed the engine to start, and she drove out. When she got to the gates, she slammed hard on the brakes and got out. She opened the gates, slid inside the car, fired the engine, and drove away.

Twenty minutes later, the Bentley had driven past the bay shore drive and had joined the continuous stream of traffic on the crowded Biscayne Boulevard. Eva rested one of her hands on the wheels and used the other to open her bag. She took out a cigarette and set light to it with platinum lighter. She thought of nothing except the surprised look that would be on Darius's face when he sees her.

Just then, she heard the sudden blare of a car horn, and she glanced sideways, and through the side window, she saw the driver of an Aston Martin, pointing his finger vigorously at the body of her car, his face descended with concern. She knew that sign. Most drivers did it when they were trying to tell you something about your car.

Startled, she pressed a button beside her and the glass lowered.

Then she heard his deep, husky voice, which unbelievably sent her pulse racing.

"Hey, lady! Pullover! You've got a flat tire."

She nodded frantically at him, slackened speed, and turned right at the next intersection. Then she took her feet off the accelerator, deftly swung the car off the road, and pulled up beside a sidewalk. She got out of the car and went around to inspect the tires. She cursed under her breath when she saw that the onside rear tire was dead flat.

She stood on the curb, feeling hot and tired under the hot, afternoon sun, and she looked contemptuously at the cars which swept past her. Around her, she could see the waterfront, harbors, skyscrapers, and tall palm trees which lined the congested sidewalk, but none of these things interested her.

Then she heard the sound of a car coming up behind her.

She swung around and saw an Aston Martin, gleaming in the hot sun moving towards her. It was the same car she had seen while on the road. Few yards to get to her, the car crawled to a stop, and there was a brief pause before the driver got out.

As he stepped out of the car, Eva's mouth fell open when she saw the most magnificent male species she had ever come across in her young wildlife.

He was tall, beautifully built, and immaculate. He walked over to her, his extraordinarily handsome face alight with excitement, and she felt her pulse began to race once again.

"Hello! These fast cars of ours always seem to put us in a bad spot." Brett said, showing white, perfect teeth.

Eva wasn't to know that the previous day after Brett had called Vince to tell him about the strange red car and the shooting, he had called back again to tell Vince that there was no need of them wasting time and it was high time he set up a meeting with Eva. Vince had followed Brett's ingenious simple plan.

All Vince had to do was to let out the tire's air of Eva's favorite car ( which is the Bentley ) before he left for the casino the next day. On the other, Brett would wait around Montreal's villa, and when he sees Eva drive out, he would follow right behind her and make sure he was right on her tail till he got to the point when he would tell her about the tire having a problem.

Vince had done his part, and so also Brett. He had been waiting inside the Aston Martin, waiting for Eva to appear within sight of the villa. He had spent the three hours listening to music, which was filtering out from the car radio, and when the Bentley eventually appeared, he had grinned viciously and followed right behind it.

Eva looked into the man's blue eyes, and she felt as if her body was set on fire.

He looks like a god! She thought.

Everything about him was sophisticated: his tall frame and built, underneath his immaculate dark blue suits, she could see the bulge of his muscles, his expensive wristwatch which encircled a powerful, hairy wrist, and his skin which was perfectly tanned.

They regarded each other.

"Do you want me to fix this for you?" he asked, eyeing the affected tire.

Eva swallowed hard.

"Well…er…er… I'll just call the car service station. Thank you."

"Don't worry, miss, I'll fix it, and unlike the car service, I won't collect a penny from you," he said with such an infectious smile.

"You'll fix it for me?" she asked, looking at him quizzically.

"Hell yeah, ma'am," he said, and he began to remove his suit jacket. He tossed it so that it landed on the bonnet of his car, and he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. His movements were swift and final.

"Thank you," she said, breathlessly watching with his admiration. What a man! she thought.

He smiled and told Eva to hop in while he works on the tire. She opened the Bentley door and gratefully got into the car, closing the door. She sat inside, biting hard on her lower lip while she watched him work. Under ten minutes, he was done. He came to her car window, wiping his hand with a thick hand towel.

"All done, ma'am, I've fixed it."

She looked at him through the open car window. She knew it was up to her to decide if she wanted to see him again, and inwardly, she did wanted to see him again.

"Suppose I get you something? Something to say thanks to you for what you did for me?" she asked.

He stared down at her, and he seemed to deliberate within himself. Then he shrugged his massive shoulders.

"Okay! If that's what you want! Let's introduce ourselves. I'm Brett Forest."

"Eva Montreal!" she replied, looking intently at him to see if there was for any reaction. She had thought the mention of her name would affect him, but she saw none of this.

"Why don't we lunch together? You could choose a good spot for us," She suggested and smiled, and when she smiled, Brett saw the reason why so many men would chase a woman like Eva. She was damn too beautiful! He had to give her that.

"Well, for me, I would love to get a taste of Little Havana," he said, knowing that Eva was not familiar with places like that.

"Little Havana? Is it a restaurant?" She asked, puzzled.

Brett saw the confusion on her face and suppressed a smile.

"Nope! It's a kind of Latino community here in Miami beach. It just a twenty- or thirty-minute drive from here. I promise you; you'll love it."

She nodded her head, and he smiled and told her that since she was inside her car, She should follow behind his car, and he would lead the way. She told him the idea sounds perfect to her, and he went around to get his car. He fired the engine, moved the Aston Martin out into the traffic stream, and headed towards Little Havana.