Spoils of Victory by John A. Connell Page B

a threat. Considered more predictable, weak and malleable. I even deal with some of them on a business level.”
    â€œAnd how do I fit into your plans? I can’t help wondering, why the VIP treatment?”
    Winstone looked like he’d been stung by the comment. “You’re an old friend. I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I wanted to show you a good time.”
    â€œDon’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying myself, but I think it’s also because someone or something has got you spooked.”
    Winstone looked away and puffed on his cigar as if using the pause to come up with a response. “What I’m starting to uncover would make anyone nervous. The idea of you staying here as a”—Winstone searched for the right word—“deterrent? That didn’t occur to me until just now. I saw you enjoying yourself and thought you could work your job, stay here, and give me a little piece of mind.”
    â€œDeterrent against what?”
    â€œAbout a month ago, I hired some security, but they were unreliable, and I had the sense they were working for someone else. I decided I need someone I can trust. It’s not a big deal. I’m not asking you to stand guard all night. And cops take side jobs, right? Think of it as that: make a little extra cash and enjoy the perks, while helping out an old friend.”
    â€œIs Adelle part of the compensation package?”
    â€œI’m offended you think so little of me. Or her. She’s a nice girl. I admit we wanted to fix you two up, and you
did
hit it off, just like Hilda thought you would. That’s it.”
    They heard Hilda and Adelle coming down the stairs. Winstone leaned in and said, “Think it over. Stay the night. Otto comes in at seven every morning and cooks up a mean breakfast. I promise we’ll talk it all over in the morning. Meanwhile, it wouldn’t hurt you to live a little, would it?” Winstone whispered the last sentence before the women entered the room.
    Adelle smiled warmly at Mason and returned to his side. Her touch, her smell, her warmth worked better than any of Winstone’s words. Maybe he would take Winstone’s advice. Just for the night.
    They danced some more and drank more wine. Mason and Adelle’s flirtations turned to intimate caresses, and Mason became aware only of Adelle, her breasts against his chest, her hips pushing into his as they danced. At some point late in the evening, Winstone and Hilda slipped away. Mason and Adelle danced another three songs. Then, already half naked, they went upstairs and made love in one of the bedrooms on a thick mattress under a lace canopy.
    Lost in the luxury of Adelle’s embrace, Mason allowed himself to forget Laura for an evening, to be enchanted. . . .
    At around three A.M. , Mason woke up with Adelle sleeping at his side. His prodigious consumption of alcohol was now compelling him to go to the bathroom. When he staggered out into the hallway, he heard Winstone and Hilda inside their bedroom speaking with raised voices. The thick door muffled most of what they were saying, but he detected either anger or fear in Hilda’s voice. She yelled, with Winstone trying to calm her with a more measured tone. He could make out Hilda shouting his and Adelle’s names. And that someone should go, and go now.
    Mason continued quickly to the bathroom, relieved himself, then crept back to the bedroom and gently prodded Adelle awake.
    â€œWe should go,” Mason said.
    Adelle yawned and stretched. “We can’t. Hilda will be upset if we leave before morning.”
    â€œI’ve got to be at headquarters in about four hours.”
    Adelle took his hand. “Please. Let’s stay.”
    â€œStay if you like, but I’ve got to go.”
    Adelle held her breath when she heard Winstone and Hilda’s distant argument. She rose quickly. “Not if you’re leaving.”
    Mason apologized, but