Armed & Dangerous (Book 2 Soldiers Series)

2

Pensacola Florida seven days later…

Desman handed his luggage to the steward. “This is going to be a blast.” Said his travel companion and high school friend Lamont Strutwood. Lamont was a smaller man with big confidence and attitude. He was a bit on the scrawny side, but size rarely mattered in a gunfight, and Lamont was a good shot. His head was freshly shaved right to the skin, but his jaw sported a thin well-groomed goatee. His complexion was very dark, and usually, he was dressed in sportswear but since the boat had a dress code he was draped in casual black slacks and a dark blue silk button up shirt tucked in respectful. On his fingers, he wore three gold rings and a Rolex on his right wrist.

“Sweet, ladies in itsy-bitsy bikinis.” Snickered Cedric Newman, another close friend of Desman’s. Unlike the other two, Cedric was on the hefty side. His hair was buzzed short, and his tubby face was cleanly shaven. Though he wasn’t fast by any measure, Cedric was still strong. He had a lot of weight behind him, and he loved to throw it around to get what he wanted. Today he had traded in his jeans and sports jerseys for a black suit. He wore no tie and the jacket open, conveying his usual relaxed demeanour.

Like Desman his friends were Soldiers, unlike him they were recruits. Lamont had been rolling with the Soldiers for thirteen years while Cedric had joined just ten years ago. They both answered to Desman’s father. They were his troops just like Desman; although Desman had far more expected of him, being groomed for leadership… but for the next week, he was putting that life behind him, putting all the stress and responsibility out of his mind. As of now, they were three guys looking to have a little fun.

“We can see bikinis in LA.” Desman pointed out as they flashed their passports while they slowly boarded the cruise liner.

“True,” Cedric nodded, “but here they got nowhere to run.”

Desman laughed. “What do you say we try not to scare the wildlife? For the next seven days, we are not Soldiers. People tend to get a little edgy when they know who we are.” He said heading in the direction the steward pointed.

“Don’t you think the tat will give us away?” Lamont pointed out the flaw in Desman’s plans. It was true every Soldier had a tattoo that identified them as Soldiers. Some people knew what it meant but some didn’t the best he could hope for was that no one on the boat would notice.

“I say if no one notices we don’t point it out.”

“Deal.”

Desman paused outside the door of the cabin that was his. “What do you want to do tonight?” Lamont asked standing before the door across from his. “We could check out the clubs.”

Desman sighed. “I’m jet-lagged.” He complained. “I want a quiet night. I think I’ll go to the casino and play some cards.”

“I can do some clubbing,” Cedric said. “You and I can go chase the shorties.”

“Alright,” Lamont said opening his door. “We will catch you later.”

“Have fun.” Desman entered his room and let the door fall shut.

His stateroom was a fair size — a queen-sized bed with a towel swan in the center. Desman shrugged off his black suit jacket and tossed it on the bed. He loosened his tie as he crossed the room to the glass door leading out onto the balcony. It was going to be a nice view once they were out on open water. He removed his tie and went back inside. Desman dropped his tie on the floor and began to unbutton his cream coloured dress shirt. He wanted a shower and something to eat before he went out.

Desman sat on the foot of the bed and reached across the small space to turn on the large plasma TV. He liked to have noise in the background it made him feel less alone. He changed the channel to M-TV and disrobed. Entering the washroom, he paused at the tub turning on the taps and testing the temperature of the water. He liked his showers hot, blistering hot at times.

After his shower Desman heard a knock at the door, he rapped the complimentary robe around himself and answered the door. It was a steward with his bag. Desman tipped the help and brought his bag inside.

Dressing for his night out Desman poured himself a drink from the mini-bar. He could feel the ship move beneath his feet. They were leaving the dock. Desman stepped out on the balcony and settled himself into the plush lounge chair. A drink in his hand and open water in front of him Desman smiled. It was going to be a good week.

***

Morgan tipped the server and brought her luggage into her stateroom. She tossed it on the bed and opened it up removing her clothes, and she began to hang them up in the closet. Vivian and Pat wanted to live it up at the on-ship clubs, but Morgan managed to talk them into playing a little at the casino before they subjected themselves to the clubs.

Her father had booked her on a singles cruise probably because her mother talked him into it. Her mother wanted grandchildren and was always harping on Morgan for not having settled down yet. At the age of nineteen, her mother had married her father and already born him a daughter.

At twenty-five, Morgan had yet to have a relationship that lasted more than six months. Her mother’s opinion was that Morgan was too picky, that she never gave anyone a chance. The truth was Morgan just hadn’t met a man that could handle her uniqueness. They were always complaining she was too cocky, too loud, too confrontational, too stubborn… well, the list of faults went on and on. Men wanted someone docile and flirty, someone, that needed them to protect them and provided for them. Morgan just wasn’t that sort of girl. She was strong and independent. If a man didn’t respect that, then she didn’t want him around anyway.

She had a bad feeling about this cruise. Though she had trouble keeping a man Morgan had little trouble attracting one. She was attractive, so she had been told, with her dark hair and olive complexion. She worked out often and had an athletic silhouette. She looked equally good in a uniform or a cocktail dress.

Morgan selected a dress from her bag and hung it on the door. She was going to take a shower and then get dressed. She felt the ship pitch and knew that they were underway. Off for what she hoped would be seven days of fun in the sun.

She showered and washed up. Taking time to blow dry and style her long dark curls letting them drape over her right shoulder. She spent ten minutes fussing over her appearance in the bathroom mirror and then put on the red silk cocktail dress she had selected. It was a strapless number with a slanted hem coming mid-thigh, with a thick black belt around her waist. Sitting on the foot of the bed, Morgan pulled on her black pumps. She was ready to join her friends.

She glanced at the clock on the night table and sighed. As usual, she was way ahead of schedule. Vivian had said an hour but what she meant was ninety minutes. She was never ready on time. So, she walked over to the mini-bar and poured herself a drink then headed for the glass doors that led out onto the balcony which now had an open ocean view.

It was stunning. She leaned over the banister with her drink in her hand and breathed in the ocean air.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” A male voice startled her. She looked to her right and saw she was not the only one enjoying the view. On the balcony next to hers sat a handsome dark fellow dressed in a fine suit with no tie and the collar of his wine coloured shirt open at the top. He lounged lazily in the chair on his balcony. Slouched with his long legs out in front of him. His complexion was light for a black man. If she had to guess she would say one of his parents was an Asian or maybe a Native American. He had the wide nose of an African but the telltale high cheekbones of a First Nations.

He had dark, sensuous eyes and a confident crooked little smile. His hair was short. He looked respectable, but he had an air of a thug about him. Though he wore a suit and he was cleanly shaven she doubted very much that he was a businessman. At least not an honest one. Something about him screamed trouble, and Morgan was usually very good at reading people.

Morgan turned to face him leaning against the banister. She looked him up and down trying to decide if she should talk to him. The stranger came to his feet and walked over to the rail bringing himself as close to her as the space would allow. The corners of his mouth curved seductively as he smiled at her. “What’s wrong you don’t speak?”

“My father told me never to speak to strangers.” She smiled.

“My name is Desman Reynolds.” He introduced himself holding out his hand to shake hers.

“Morgan Perez.” She introduced herself shaking his hand. He had a strong firm grip.

“Now we are not strangers.” He said as his gaze raked over her. He was checking her out and not even trying to hide it. The brazen look in his eyes made her want to laugh. “Where are you from?”

“Here and there.” She wasn’t about to tell her life story to a man she met on a party boat.

“Come on girl, why you got to play it like that?”

Morgan flashed him a cocky smile. “I don’t play well with others.” Then she finished her drink and went back inside leaving him to himself.

Morgan left her stateroom and wandered down the hall knocking on Pat’s door. She had met Pat when she came to New York. Pat had been fighting with her boyfriend outside a bar at 3:00 am. The fight had gotten heated, and he had gotten physical shoving her into a car. He would have hurt her too had Morgan not stepped in. She had been out with Vivian that night and stumbled across the fight. Being expertly trained in combat Morgan had taken him on and drop kicked his ass across the parking lot.

Pat had thanked her, and they had gotten to talking. Morgan and Vivian took Pat to an all-night coffee shop hoping to sober her up before she drove herself home. They had hit it off and become fast friends. Though Morgan was often difficult to deal with Pat seemed to look past that, and Morgan appreciated her friendship.

Pat was a pretty little brunette with a shapely figure and acrylic nails. She had taken business management in college but wound up a secretary in an advertising company. She was overqualified and underappreciated. She had been ecstatic when Morgan presented her with her father’s gift. She hadn’t even cared that the passports were forged.

Pat had tied her light brown hair up in a braid and donned a sexy little black dress that came to the knees. She squealed when she saw Morgan and hugged her. “Oh girl, look at you. You look so good in that dress.” She gushed coming out of her room and lacing her arm with Morgan’s as they moved down the hall. “We are going to have to beat the guys off with a stick.” She said reaching Vivian’s cabin.

“I’m not here to meet anyone.” Morgan had just gotten out of a relationship that frankly was doomed from the start. She just needed a little time to herself.

Pat rolled her eyes. “This is a party boat. I’m sure we can find you a fling. Come on it’s the Bahamas.” She stressed knocking on Vivian’s door.

“I’m not into casual sex.” Morgan reminded her friend; she had too much pride to end up just another tart.

“I know, you want someone to till the field; but what do you say for this week we settle for someone that wants to play in the garden?”

Morgan laughed. “That sort of thinking is why you always end up with the wrong guy.”

“Like you have met Mr. Right.” Pat scoffed as the door open. Vivian stepped out into the hall dressed in a deep blue one shoulder cocktail dress. Her pale blonde hair was left down in long curls. Morgan had met Vivian through her brother. Morgan had dated Vivian’s older brother for a total of three days. Her relationship might not have worked out, but she had gained a good friend out of it. They had been thick as thieves for the last six years.

“Well don’t we look hot?” Vivian grinned. “Look out boys here we come.”

“Before we get all caught up in the fun what do you say we leave out one little detail while we are partying?” Pat said.

“Like what?” Morgan asked as they were both looking at her.

“How about, just for this week, we not tell anyone you’re a cop,” Pat suggested.

“Yeah, people tend to get uncomfortable around you,” Vivian added.

“Just for this week why don’t we tell people you’re an elementary school teacher,” Pat suggested off the top of her head. Morgan just looked at her.

“A teacher really?”

“You’re right no one is going to buy it. You’re too mean to be a teacher.”

“I’m mean?” She asked crossing her arms and glaring at her friends.

“Just a tad, not all the time,” Vivian explained. “It’s just that you’re very confrontational and you tend to do and say things that rub people the wrong way. It’s not that we don’t love you to death it’s just that we want to have some fun.”

“I got it; you work for the DMV; those guys are always nasty. I think people will buy it.” Pat suggested.

“The DMV?”

“I think it’s perfect.” Vivian agreed.

Morgan sighed and dropped her arms. “Fine for one week I’ll pretend to be someone else.”

“And you will be nice,” Vivian added. Morgan raised one dark brow.

“We may be expecting too much.” Pat laughed. Morgan couldn’t promise to be nice. It went against the grain. She would lie about her job but not about who she was. If they didn’t like her, they could go to hell.

The ladies headed to the dining hall to grab a quick bite to eat. When they were through, they made their way to the casino. They would play for a few hours and then swing by one of many of the on-ship nightclubs.

Reaching the casino Pat settled in at a VLT, Vivian stopped at the craps table, but Morgan had bigger money in mind. With a hundred dollars to her name, Morgan sat down at a poker table and bought herself into a high stakes game.

She threw the first few hands getting a sense of the men she was playing with: two businessmen, a professional gambler, and one of the ship's performers. Her real competition was the professional gambler. Deciding she had played possum long enough Morgan began to play competitively. They played another four hands, and then the talent tossed his cards on the table with frustration. “Too rich for my blood.” He muttered taking his drink and leaving the game.

His seat wasn’t empty long. A moment after he had left a new body was in the seat. Morgan recognized him right away. The man in the cabin next to her was now staring across the table at her as he placed his clips on the table and bought his way into the game. He sat relaxed and cocky; his left arm draped over the back of his chair — the cards in his right hand. He gave them a look and tossed his bid into the pot. He seemed confident, but so was she. She had no intention of losing. Morgan had a never fail system. She was a card counter. She could do the math in her head as quickly and as efficiently as any calculator. She had a good idea of who had what in their hands. She wasn’t walking away from this table a loser.

***

Desman tossed his bid in the pot and watched the woman across the table. He had just raised the bet considerably — his strategy, to push the bid until the other competitors folded. Poker was less about what one had in his hand and more about the art of bluffing. He could bluff his way through anything. However, the confidence in Morgan’s dark eyes made him wonder.

He had been gambling at another table but watching this game. When the other man vacated his seat, Desman had jumped at the chance to get in on the game. It wasn’t the high stakes that drew him to the table it was the woman.

Morgan Perez was beyond gorgeous. She had a flawless figure, dark silken ebony hair; and the biggest, deepest, darkest, most sensuous eyes he’d ever seen. She had a soft olive complexion, high cheekbones, a cute little nose, and full plump ruby lips that curved in the sexiest little smirk. This woman was the epitome of confidence and swagger. She was rude yet playful, and she fascinated him.

The bet went around the table each matching the bet when the rotation fell to Morgan she raised, much to Desman’s surprise. She must have had a good hand, or maybe she was bluffing. He didn’t know her well enough to decide which. Desman glanced at his cards. He had a good hand. A full house, so when the bet came his way he raised again. The next two men folded but Morgan rose again. The man next to her looked at his cards and then at Morgan and Desman. He thought for a moment and then matched the bet.

Desman matched the bet and the dealer called the hand. The other man at the table turned over his cards — a lousy hand. He had been bluffing. Desman laid out his full house with a smug grin. He had her right where he wanted her. However, the look on her face made him rethink his position. She was way too cool for a woman who just lost. Morgan laid out her hand and Desman’s jaw went slack; a royal flush. She had beaten him. He didn’t know how but she had nonetheless.

Morgan gathered her winnings, and the dealer dealt the next hand. He tried to regain his composure. So, she had won one hand, big deal he could win it back. They played for another two hours with Morgan winning nearly every hand. She had cleaned out the table. Taking every man there for all he was worth.

She was no woman; she was a bloody card shark. Desman himself was now down over two grand. He didn’t understand how she was winning. It was as if she could see right through the cards. Like she just knew what each player had. There had to be a trick. She had to be cheating. It was the only thing that made sense. He wasn’t this bad a player; he was certain she was cheating.

When she laid her cards down with four aces Desman lost his cool. “That’s not possible.” He barked. He had lost enough money to this woman; they all had. “You’re cheating. I don’t know how but you’re f*****g cheating.” He accused his tone harsh and his voice loud. He didn’t take kindly to getting ripped off.

“I am not. Don’t put your shortcomings on me. It’s not my fault you’re a shitty player.”

“I’m a good player; the only way you can be winning this much is if you’re cheating.” He snapped coming to his feet.

“Oh really… how?” She asked leaning back in her seat.

He had no idea. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, and her hands never left the table, so she wasn’t palming cards. The dealer dealt the cards from a new deck, so she hadn’t stacked the deck. He looked around. Maybe she had someone looking over their shoulders and signalling her, but he didn’t see anyone suspicious. She must have been counting cards.

“You’re a card counter, aren’t you?”

“Can you prove it?”

She was so smug, he knew he was right. Of course, if she was counting in her head he couldn’t prove anything; but he knew enough criminals and cheats to know she wasn’t playing fair.

“I didn’t think so.” She said when he didn’t reply. Morgan got to her feet and collected her chips to cash in her winning. “Well boys it has been fun, but I think I’ll be moving on to other amusements.”

She was not getting off that easy. Desman left the table and followed Morgan to the cashier. He watched from the roulette table as she traded her chips for currency. He was a fair man, he didn’t care if she ripped off the rest of the table, but he wanted his money back.

Desman approached her as she walked away. “Hey you, I want my money back.” He snarled blocking her escape.

“Excuse me?”

“I want my money back.”

She just laughed. “I’m sorry, but that is not how gambling works. You don’t get your money back when you lose.”

“I didn’t lose… you cheated.”

“You can’t prove I cheated.”

“I don’t need to prove anything.”

“If you want your money back you do.”

Desman reached for the money and forcefully took it from her hands. He was bigger than her; he’d take his money back. Without warning her hand came up, and she punched him in the throat. Desman staggered back gasping for air then he took a knee to his belly and an elbow to the back, and he hit the ground on all fours.

Morgan bent over and snatched back the money from his hand. “Don’t think you can steal from me.” She snarled in his ear. “I don’t call the cops.” Then she walked away leaving him on the floor with the other gamblers watching and whispering.

Desman staggered back onto his feet and straightened his suit jacket. Two security guards were at his side insisting he leave the casino for fighting. Fighting, it made him laugh. That hadn’t been a fight, that was him getting his ass handed to him by a girl.

Ashamed and humiliated Desman headed for the Oasis nightclub on deck three where he knew his buddies were hanging out. After that brawl, he needed a drink and a new way of getting his money back. After all, he was a Soldier and Soldiers didn’t call the cops either.