Chapter 3 of Miami 1-der
Where PK and Lolita encounter a real-life Russian mobster and a supermodel in Miami.
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CHAPTER 3
The guard was trying to figure out why he might lose his job to this large woman and wasn't quick enough to stop us from barging right through the ornate hardwood double doors.
Vladimir had enough faith in his slow-witted lunk to not bother locking the doors, so in no time we were standing in an elegantly furnished living room. The furnishings included heavy brocade drapes in a deep shade of red, a baby grand piano, and a beautiful chandelier hanging over it that might have been more appropriate in the White House.
I assumed he had been staying there a while because this was not the standard room furnishings. I could have been wrong because heaven knows I'd never stayed in a penthouse apartment before, so I didn't have enough information to make a comparison. But it seemed over the top to me, what with the blood-red drapes and the swanky light fixtures. It was definitely a step up from the typical Motel 6 I usually stayed in when traveling.
As I finished gawking at the place, I noticed Vladimir sitting in a plush office chair behind his ornate L-shaped desk positioned to the far right; offering views of the room and the beautiful ocean through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Beyond him, lying topless on a chaise lounge on the balcony was the well-built Natasha.
"Wowser!" Oops, did I say that out loud? Wash my mouth out with soap. Sorry, but she was a knockout.
I averted my eyes to give her some privacy, but when I looked at Lolita, she wasn't as shy.
"May I help you?" inquired Vlad, shocking Lolita and me back to reality. After seeing Natasha lying there, I had completely forgotten about the guy. "Why are you here?" he asked after getting no response to his first question.
While Lolita and I were trying to get our minds back into the here and now, Vladimir looked at his thug who was simply standing inside the door with a worried look.
"Why are these people here?" he asked the guard.
"S-s-sir," stammered the bodyguard again. "I sorry, sir, I not stop them."
"Yes, Boris, I can see that," Vladimir said, turning towards us. "Imbecile," he said under his breath. "So, what are you doing here?" he asked again, looking at the two of us.
I finally got my thoughts together and approached him at his desk.
"Mr. Baryshnikov, my name is PK Kincaid, and this is Lolita Martinez, bond enforcement. I'm afraid that Miss Smirnova will need to come with us to the police station because she has failed to appear in court at her appointed time."
"What?" he asked loudly, getting up from his seat and walking toward the closed sliding glass doors.
He slid the door open and started berating Miss Smirnova, who once again turned over and gave us a full view of her 36D assets before she sat up, grabbed a nearby towel, and modestly covered herself.
Soon, the two of them walked inside, Vladimir pointing her towards one of the bedrooms, swatting her on the ass, and telling her to hurry and get dressed because she was leaving with us.
She turned back towards him, starting to argue, but he held up a finger and said, "Not a word from you. I'll deal with you later."
He turned back towards us and walked back to his desk. For a second, I saw pure rage sculpted on his face. He immediately replaced it with a mask of civility as he motioned toward the chairs facing the desk and asked us to have a seat.
When he walked back to his seat, it was then that I noticed that this guy didn't just walk. His movements were more like a cat prowling its territory. Not what I expected, but I guess I was gauging him by the Neanderthals he hired for guards.
Having kept a rather low profile, he didn't give me much to judge him by. From what I'd seen of him so far, he tried very hard to control his emotions, but when he lost his temper, he lost it.
"While you are waiting, would you like something to drink?" he asked us both.
"If you happen to have an Avion, I would love it," said Lolita in a syrupy sweet voice. I don't think I've ever seen her smile like that before. Maybe she had the hots for this guy. Wait! What am I saying? Maybe she's bi because she was swooning over this guy.
Not that I could blame her. The guy was built. You could see it even under his long-sleeved shirt. His shoulders bulged upward, his chest pushed out, and his arms kept the cloth taut on his sleeves. Okay, so maybe I was just a little jealous. I could look like that if I spent all day every day in the gym. But in my current shape, round, I'd die after the first hour.
While I was having these thoughts, Vladimir stood there looking at me, waiting for my answer regarding a drink. I was wearing his patience thin, which was already paper thin after his talk with Natasha.
“I'll have the same, thanks," I said, turning a little red, wondering if he had been waiting very long for my answer.
But Vladimir turned towards the kitchen without another word and got our waters.
I turned to Lolita, expecting her to make a snide remark about me spacing out in front of the guy, but she still had that dreamy look as she stared at the retreating form strolling away. I could swear she was staring at the guy’s ass.
"Have you got the hots for this guy?" I whispered.
She shook her head, finally focusing on me before returning to her usual scowl. "What? No! Are you crazy?" But then she slowly turned around gazing at his backside sticking out past the refrigerator door. That smile returned to her face. "Okay, maybe just a little," she said with a sigh.
"Even a woman like me finds it hard to resist a guy with such magnetism. And look at that ass! It's almost as nice as…" and she paused.
"Almost as nice as what?" I asked her.
"Never mind!" she hissed, her scowl returning.
Vladimir made his way back with drinks in hand. "Thanks," I said, and Lolita regained her stoic face and said, "Thank you very much, Mr. Baryshnikov."
"Please call me Vlad, everyone does," he said, sitting at his desk. "Now, please explain to me the situation with Natasha," he directed at me. "I thought the situation was dealt with at the courthouse a few days ago. I realize the stupidity of Natasha driving under the influence, but I thought it was taken care of when she paid the fine."
"No, that was just the initial hearing to determine the date of the actual court appearance. And to decide the amount of the bond, to make sure the person returns to court at the appointed date," I explained to him.
"She didn't have the money on hand, so my boss covered the bond. Unfortunately, he would lose that money if she didn't return to court. And that is why we’re here," I told him with a little smile while shrugging my shoulders.
I could tell he was impatient with the whole thing and would have loved to show us the door, but he also knew that it could cause bigger problems for him if he didn't handle this properly.
I knew that good ol' Vlad was not a law-abiding citizen. It was rumored that he was part of the Russian mob, and if the cops had to come here to take Natasha in, it could cause all kinds of problems for him. He looked at me as if he already knew this. His nefarious activities were well known throughout the area, even if he had never been charged for them yet.
"Natasha will be out shortly to deal with the situation," he told us. "In the meantime, what else can I do for you?" he asked, none too politely, hoping to get rid of us as soon as possible.
"We're good, thanks," I told him as I rose out of the chair. "We'll just wait outside the door for Miss Smirnova so that you can get back to work."
He rose also and walked us to the door and said, "Thank you for bringing this problem to my attention. Boris will see to it that you have no problem seeing your way out."
With that, he quickly closed the door, and we found ourselves in the hallway with the guard who Lolita had pissed off earlier.
The guy didn't seem to hold a grudge, but he wasn't happy to see us either. He just looked towards us with a grunt then continued staring straight ahead.
Surprisingly, we only had to wait a few minutes before Natasha came out. She dressed like a model on the job and when going out on the town, but this time she was dressed simply, wearing a lightweight white summer dress with bright yellow sunflowers.
Her shoes, although basic pumps to go with the basic dress, were at least three inches tall, putting her that much taller than me. I liked the fact that she was my height without heels.
Her wardrobe was not high fashion, but she looked fabulous in it. The dress material was thin enough that I could see she wasn’t wearing a bra. Oh my! Memories of seeing what was underneath, moving unencumbered by cloth, came flooding back.
Then she shook my hand, and my heart skipped a beat! Some form of energy flowed between us in that brief encounter, and her bright blue eyes drew me into their depths, and suddenly I felt like telling her my life story.
I had never felt such a connection when first meeting someone. It felt like the Earth stood still as I held her hand for what seemed like days but was probably just a few seconds. Natasha must have felt something similar because her eyes widened in that brief moment.
I was reluctant to let go of her hand, but I heard Lolita clearing her throat behind me. I withdrew my hand, but Natasha and I continued to stare into each others’ eyes as we walked to the elevator.
That can happen, right? Sparks flying when you first meet somebody? Not that it had ever happened to me before, but I've heard of it happening. It was one of those special moments.
Natasha wore very little makeup. She had that beautiful girl-next-door look, and it amazed me how well she pulled it off. I knew she was from Russia, but she looked as American as apple pie, with her simple dress, blond hair, and blue eyes. And then she spoke.
"I am very sorry for this inconvenience to you," she said in proper, yet Russian-accented, English. "I have embarrassed myself and Vladimir with my recent stupidity." She was speaking of her DUI, which was the cause of this situation.
"You should be ashamed of such stupidity," Lolita blurted out. "Do you realize that you could have killed an innocent person driving while drunk, idiota?"
Lolita's outburst floored me. I knew she didn’t have a lot of tact, but to mouth off to one of Hans's customers was pretty unusual. Unless it was one of the drunks who liked to get handsy with her whenever she was trying to get them bundled into the car.
Lolita’s comment equally surprised Natasha. She stood there with her mouth open for a few seconds before regaining her composure, and then she hung her head.
"Yes, you are right. It is without excuse. I rarely drink, but that day I had just learned that my father was murdered," she whispered, sniffling. Had Lolita just made the woman cry?
"Shush, shush, muñeca," Lolita said, moving over and wrapping her arms around Natasha. "I’m so sorry to hear that. I didn't mean to make you cry. It's just that I lost my mother to a drunk driver."
Then the rough-talking, hard-charging Lolita started to cry.
We hope you have enjoyed chapter 3 of our cozy mystery book featuring PK Kincaid, Lolita, and the gang. Stay tuned for the next chapter coming out each Monday at 4:00 p.m. Eastern Time.
BK MacKay
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