CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BLACK WIDOW
She was sitting across the street from Arcadia, watching expensive limousines, Town Cars, and SUV’s arrive one by one. She was definitely in the right place. The client’s intel was on point. Because the only way a billionaire, a senator, the lieutenant governor, and the mayor would show up for some beat cop’s birthday party was if she was fucking the governor. The guest list was indeed impressive, but the most shocking of arrivals was that of Luca and Francis Savelli.
What the hell were the Sicilians doing at this chick’s party? Their presence could be problematic. Both men arrived heavily guarded. And, surprisingly, both had a black woman on their arm. Hell, if Sloane knew that either one of them was down with the swirl, she would have thrown her horse in that race a long time ago. Well, it wasn’t too late. Sloane hadn’t met a man that she couldn’t have. Once she finished the job that she’d been paid to do, she would seriously consider arranging a couple ofchancemeetings with Francis Savelli. There was an air of power that swarmed around him. He was irresistibly handsome, and Lord, could he fill out a suit. Francis was definitely Sloane’s type.
Sloane Vidal was the product of a black pimp and a French whore. But it didn’t go in the order that most expected. Her black mother, Aubree Le Gall, was one of Cannes most notorious souteneurs. Without discrimination, she sold men, women, and children. Sadly, she wasn’t even above selling her own daughter. But Sloane didn’t have time to shed a tear for her horrible childhood. She had a job to do, and failure was not an option. She’d never missed a target and she wasn’t about to start with Rosemary Creed.
After an hour of watching the entrance, Sloane came to the conclusion that her target was going to be a no-show. So, she’d have to use the same method of interrogation on the governor’s girl that she had used on the driver and the press secretary.
Rosemary had eluded her in Louisiana, but a source revealed that she could be found in Chicago. Sloane would bet money that she ran straight to her heavily guarded husband. Getting to the governor’s wife wasn’t going to be easy, but Sloane had five million reasons to get the job done. She flipped the visor and checked her lipstick in the mirror. She blew herself a quick kiss, hopped out of the car, and headed toward the fancy restaurant.
