When I received the Banner showing all of Weis' books, I immediately noticed that The Secret Brokers was one I had not read! And it was about Dallas!
You know, the guy who fell in love, but didn't win, Nicci!
Well, there was no way that I could not read his new story, preferably his finding another female in his life, so I zipped out to Amazon and downloaded it to my Kindle immediately! That's the time when I really love having a Kindle!!!
Anyway...My review will appear next! Watch for it... And yes, she's just perfect for him...
The gray morning sky cast a cold veil over the sprawling New York high-rise buildings cluttering the skyline. Dallas August felt the chill of winter enveloping his body as he took in the view from his penthouse window. A blanket of white covered the trees in Central Park below, and he noted how Lasker Rink was still doing a brisk business. But winter would soon be drawing to a close, and Dallas knew he would no longer be able to blame the constant ache in his chest on the relentless cold. With spring looming on the horizon, he would have to consider another cause for his discomfort. He did not want to acknowledge the real reason for his heartache. Dallas believed giving in to one’s emotions was a sign of weakness, and there was no room for weakness in his world. Besides, she was a non-factor in his life now. She wasn’t his to love anymore.
He turned away from the window and gazed down at the cream-colored carpet as he tried to push the memory of her soft, white skin from his mind.
“Nicci,” Dallas whispered as a playful grin curled the edges of his lips.
“Ya say somethin’, boss?” a deep voice called out from the entrance to his office.
Dallas turned from the window to see a very tall, muscular man with coffee-colored skin staring at him. He was dressed in a white button down shirt and casual khaki pants. A .9mm Smith and Wesson pistol was holstered at his hip.
“Hey, Cleveland,” Dallas said as he nodded to his security guard. “And I told you before, don’t call me boss…just Dallas.”
Cleveland walked up to the dark oak desk in the corner of the room and laid the morning newspaper across it. “Ya look like crap, Dallas. Ya didn’t sleep again, did ya? Not like anyone could sleep in this here museum anyway.” Cleveland glanced around at the numerous photographs hanging on the walls of the man who had once occupied the penthouse. “Maybe ya should get rid of Simon La Roy’s things. Kind a creepy bein’ surrounded by a dead man’s stuff.”
“Everything stays,” Dallas ordered and then gave Cleveland a weak smile. “For now, anyway.”
Cleveland studied the lean torso of his employer. No matter what Dallas August told him, Cleveland could see that he was being torn apart by something. Dallas had lost weight, and his probing, dark blue eyes had circles beneath them. His long, chiseled face appeared to be haunted by memories, and his square jaw only seemed to add to the emptiness in his eyes.
“You’s still thinkin’ about that girl, ain’t ya?” Cleveland commented as he continued to stare at Dallas. “The one we rescued from that shoot out at Mr. Caston’s back in N’awlins. Nicci, Nicci Beauvoir—that’s her name.”
Dallas shook his head. He walked to the desk and picked up the morning newspaper. “Nicci Beauvoir is dead, Cleveland,” he said in an icy tone.
“Well, she sure ain’t dead to ya.” Cleveland rolled his eyes at Dallas. “And if ya treated her like ya treat me and everyone else in this here organization, I can see why she left ya sorry ass for the other guy.”
Dallas spun around and faced him. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean? I treat you and everyone else in this organization very well. The only reason I came back to this job was to save the people who would have been destroyed by Simon La Roy’s death.”
“That lie workin’ for ya yet? ‘Cause if ya ask me, takin’ this job was the easy way out. Ya didn’t want to fight for that girl ya loved so much back in N’awlins. And God knows ya don’t want nobody to know what you’s really feelin’.”
Dallas reflexively clenched his fists. “Are you finished?”
“I know I’m only supposed to be a security guard and all, but if ya ask me ya got a big wall up, and ya chase people away faster than a jackrabbit can haul ass across a field. Maybe if ya would be a little nicer and not snap at everyone like they was—”
“You’re right Cleveland, I hired you to be my security guard, not my analyst,” Dallas interrupted. “So if you have nothing else for me you can go back—”
“There’s a man here to see ya,” Cleveland cut in. “Says Lance Beauvoir sent him.”
Dallas raised his dark eyebrows. “Does this man have a name?”
“Don’t need none as far as I’m concerned. His face is on the front page of that newspaper there.” Cleveland pointed at the newspaper on top of Dallas’s desk.
Dallas scanned the paper and saw the round face of one of America’s most notorious crime bosses plastered across the front page.
Dallas looked up at Cleveland. “Carl Bordonaro?”
Cleveland nodded. “He’s waitin’ in that fancy room with the old Egyptian stuff.”
“It’s the drawing room,” Dallas corrected as he glanced down at the stainless steel watch on his wrist. “And those are ancient Greek vases, not Egyptian.”
“Do I look like I give a damn?” Cleveland turned back to the office door. “And if the two of you’s want coffee, then go and gets it ya’self. I’m the security guard, not the goddamn butler,” he asserted as he stepped into the hallway.
|"BRH thinks she's right for Dallas...but I don't!"|
"Yeah, she tricked him and lied to him right from the start!"
"Sure, she's beautiful, but can he trust her?"
"Yeah, we think he's nuts to fall for her!
By the way, got any???"