Ebb Tide Ch. 01

"Why? Why go to all this trouble and not even bargain with me?" she was clearly confused about her next move and my motivations.

"There is only one way Dabney and I are getting out of this alive and that is if you know you can trust me," I reasoned. "Screwing you over makes you less rich while still making us both just us dead. Proving I can fuck you over and then not doing it was my best ploy. I don't want to be your enemy, Reagan. Let me keep Dabney in line. I'll take care of things and that's that. No one else has to die."

I could sense the wheels turning behind those dark eyes.

"Do you love this girl?"

"Dabney ... nah. I taught her how to ride a bike, swim, cheat on exams and punch out schoolmates who bothered her. She was eleven when I left. She sure is hot now..."

Reagan extended her hand, I shook it and she smiled.

"Deal," she chuckled. "I'll have to put this before..." Her mom aka Circe.

"If it helps, tell her I always thought she was one smoking hot MILF," I grinned.

"I'm not sure if that would help, or hurt your case. I'll pass it on," she snickered.

"By the way, how do I get in touch with you? You seem to be having phone difficulties," she hinted at something else.

"You don't have my number?" I sounded distressed.

"No."

"Then I'm not having phone difficulties," I teased her.

"You are like Jess. Neither of you let extraneous stuff distract you. Nothing scares him. Does anything scare you?" Reagan said.

"Our profession isn't for the faint of heart," I replied.

"But now you are a paramedic?" she was back to seeking out my motivations.

"I like the craft. I would like not having to kill a few cock-suckers in the middle of keeping some poor kid's brains from leaking out his ears," I explained. "I didn't get tired of killing people. I'm not seeking to redeem myself. When I put someone down, they deserve to be dead. I'm A-Okay with my service history."

"You killed people while you were saving others," she was quizzical. "How do you rationalize that?"

"I don't rationalize it. I honestly don't care either way. I like the job. I've never been much of a people person, so I don't associate real emotions with the widows and orphans I've made, or the babies I've delivered. I succeed at the task and then it's off to the next problem."

"You still haven't given me your phone number, or your address," she gave a twist of the lips.

"It is good to know that we are both up to date with the situation," I told her.

"I'm letting you walk away with your life and the life of your friend and you won't give me your God-damn phone number?" she chuckled.

"That's certainly how I want it to be," I let mirth touch my voice.

"I'll find you."

"Good luck. Carefree people consider me paranoid, but I've never been successfully diagnosed."

"Good night, Vance. It was a pleasant surprise to see you again," she nodded. "Oh, and don't leave town."

That was it. I was dismissed and I was smart enough to make a hasty retreat. I also stashed my car in a safe place before making my way home on foot. I'd check my ride for bugs, tracking devices and explosives tomorrow. It felt good to be alive. Then it dawned on me that I felt alive for all the wrong reasons. I was supposed to have retired from that part of my life and here I was back in Vegas ... fucking things up yet again.

{Epilogue}

{The Lady of Lust}

Circe watched her daughter, Reagan, leave the room. Now it was just her and Jessup Alexander. The former-SEAL was her #2 man in security - she would never trust the top spot to a drug-addict, no matter what their professional background was. Like every asset at her command, he had his uses.

One of her gifts was that she understood an individual's weaknesses and proficiencies. Mr. Alexander's weakness went beyond his drug dependency. His inability to conquer his addiction was his Achilles' heel - a flaw he could not correct in himself. His strength was that of a man who could study raw human material and decide how useful that recruit could become.

His past in the US Navy SEALs was commendable, but it was his ability to train others that made him valuable to her. Jessup could study potential recruits and separate the wheat from the chaff, allowing her to concentrate on the ones that would be most useful. She allowed his occasional forays in action to feed his pride and hunger for danger.

"Tell me about Mr. Vardanyan," she gazed upon Jessup.

"He is an odd one," Jessup carefully constructed his words. "He's likeable, which you would expect of a man in his line of work."Circe already knew the basics about Vance. "He was never close to anyone that I was aware of. He never talked about home, girlfriends, or any of the stuff men normally talk about."

"I know he dated from time to time. His main interests centered on learning and going above and beyond what was normally expected of him. He's bright, a quick study and always competent. He was always working on one certification, or another. Not for the extra pay. I was always under the impression that when he was curious about something, he didn't stop until he had the answers," the senior black ex-serviceman continued.

"Do you think he is curious about me?" she asked.

"That's not Vardanyan's style. If you aren't a problem for him to solve, he's not interested. That's how his mind works."

"Do you consider him a friend?"

"No...it is hard for you to understand, but Brigand - Vance isn't the type of guy to write Christmas cards or attend birthday parties," he responded. Circe knew it was his martial brotherhood mystique he imagined existed that drove those words. "If I asked him to help me with an issue, or treat a wound, he'd do it. No questions asked."

"Beyond being associated with 'The Teams', we understood that Brigand was that kind of guy. He was always someone you could trust because he didn't give a fuck about peripherals such as morality, right - wrong, motive, or incentive. All he needed to do was believe in you," he answered.

"Do you think I should trust him to keep his word and make sure Dabney Curtiss doesn't become a problem?"

"Yes, but not for the reason I think you are thinking. My opinion doesn't matter. What matters is that we are having this discussion right now, talking about him," Jessup responded.

"If Brigand knows who you are and he decided he couldn't trust you, you wouldn't even comprehend the danger you would be in," he added.

"Is he truly that exceptional a killer?"

"No Circe," Jessup chuckled. "He is that determined."

"I doubt you would be dead right now, or even dead in a week, but he would get you eventually and he'd kill as many people as necessary in the process. As I was trying to relate, if he thinks your life is worthwhile, then he'll move Heaven and Earth trying to keep you alive. Outside of those fortunate few ... he is completely pitiless. That was what the SEAL's liked about him. He was morally uncomplicated," Jessup put the man in perspective.

"You are not clarifying the matter," Circe regarded him. She knew Jessup wasn't trying to be evasive which meant Mr. Vardanyan was much more of an enigma than she liked. If she tried to have him killed and failed ... that would be bad for business. If she killed Ms. Curtiss ... well, kidnapping her hadn't made him all that vulnerable.

There was a third person in the overall dilemma. She knew who that woman was and never been under the impression she possessed any ability to do anything but look pretty. If V/Vance/Mr. Vardanyan had an affair with her a decade and a half ago ... the Pharris family circus was hardly top secret information. She would have known about Georgianna and the pool boy. Yes, she remembered that young man now.

The boy had changed - evolved into a rather different man. She hadn't detected sociopathic or psychopathic tendencies in him then and he wasn't following along with either pattern of behavior now. Despite what the few who she felt knew her thought about her, Circe didn't see herself as a heartless monster - a criminally-inclined biological machine.

The more she remembered about Vance, the more she remembered him as ... the proper words? Inoffensive and disinclined to fit in. Money and relationships didn't appear to be vulnerabilities. Instead of being a weak point, his current association with Ms. Norquist/the former Mrs. Pharris could have its uses. A medical professional willing to do favors under the table had its appeal as well.

Oh, she knew she was constructing excuses for keeping the man alive. She felt comfortable with her efforts because they were based on rational precepts.

"Give it a few days, Jessup," Circe commanded. "Find him and invite him to come by for a chat. He already knows where I live. I wish to establish some ground rules for our détente."

"I'll get it done," Jessup nodded. In her mind, Circe knew how that would work out. Dabney had other 'friends' in the business. The 'business' was how Dabney made her living. She would reach out like a good girl and try to make some arrangements ~ make sure she was paying her taxes and didn't get hassled.

Her people would graciously accept Dabney on the condition that her new protector agreed to a public sit-down ... and he'd show up. He would continue to feel responsible for Ms. Curtiss and would know things would go far easier if she was 'legitimate'. It would certainly help him not view the Queen of the Las Vegas Sex Trade as a threat. Some people didn't respond to threats in the accepted way. No, they cancelled the source of the threat.

Mr. Vardanyan was one of the latter. He was also a man prone to bouts of curiosity and that seemed to be his key weakness at the moment. Circe didn't want to control him. She wasn't out to be the sole power in the city. She had many enemies and few allies in the struggle for influence, money and power in this city. She didn't need another enemy.

'Yes,' she mused, 'teasing his curiosity would be a good place to start'. Her next order of business was how to redistribute Pablo's business. He'd been a savage little pig which was good for business. Scary pimps made other working girls appreciate their less odious flesh-peddlers. She had an admirable prospect; a hungry young man who compensated for a childhood of poverty by cultivating the supposed 'finer things' in life. He'd do.