Torpedo (Bones MC 7)

by Marteeka Karland

  * * *

  Ambrosia was trembling by the time she stepped onto the elevator to take her back down to the basement and her dressing room. All the butlers shared the same space. Which was a little unnerving because she was the only female in the group. The guys weren’t cruel or anything, but given her past, it made her decidedly uncomfortable.

  She suspected management had no desire for her to be there and had deliberately set her up to fail. She knew she could call them out on it and threaten a lawsuit, but, really. What was the point? She wouldn’t be here long. Already her soon-to-be-ex father-in-law was making waves. Probably why she’d been told her dressing room was with the male staff members in the same position, since the role of butler was traditionally given to a male and the hotel hadn’t factored in a female wanting the job. Assuming she was in the position longer than a few weeks, they’d put a plan into action to give Rose her own dressing quarters. Which was total bullshit. For now, she used her office to dress.

  Each of them had a small office space with a desk, computer, and anything else they needed to make the time each executive guest spent at the Breakers as comfortable and inclusive as they wanted it to be. Some people had meetings and corporate functions they need planned or parties or any number of things. It was her job to see to their every need. She wasn’t lying when she’d told Gavin Ferguson, her newest client, she could provide him with an escort. She basically had unlimited resources at her disposal where a guest was concerned.

  Now, she went to her office and shut the door, hoping to not be disturbed. She should have known better. Since Richmond Foley had decided it was her fault his son, Tyler, was in prison, hotel management seemed to have a leash shoved up her ass. They wanted to know where she was at all times and, if she wasn’t exactly where they thought she should be, they wanted to know why. She was supposed to be having a conference with Mr. Ferguson.

  The knock came about thirty seconds after she’d closed the door. It was followed by her boss barging in without waiting for her approval.

  “You’re supposed to be at the penthouse, Rose. This guest is extremely important to us. If he cancels, you’ll be responsible for the lost income”

  “He was busy, Mario. I can’t make the man talk to me if he doesn’t want to that very instant. I’m going back at five, per his instruction.”

  Mario scowled. “If you did something to put him off, you better come clean now. He complains on you, you’re outta here.”

  “Like I’m not on my way out the door anyway,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” Mario cocked his head as if daring her to repeat herself.

  Taking a breath, Rose lifted her chin. What the hell? She was tired of all the rich people she catered to anyway. Most thought they were better than her and talked down to her in a condescending way she hated. “I said, I’m on the way out the door anyway, so why bother? I know Richmond has been putting the heat on everyone to fire me, just like he has my last three jobs.” She shrugged. “Why fight the inevitable?”

  “You’re right,” Mario sneered. “Why fight it? This little act of insubordination was the nail in your coffin, young lady.” He drew himself up to his full height, which was still several inches shorter than her. “Rose, your services are no longer required. Your last check will be direct-deposited on the regular pay date. And if the penthouse guest cancels his stay early, the balance of his stay will come out of your check.”

  “That’s more than I make, Mario.”

  “And that’s your problem. You should have thought of that before you pissed him off.”

  “No one said anything about pissing him off! He wanted me to come back later because he was busy!” She left off the masturbating part because she just couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  “So you say.” He waved his hand toward the door. “Off with you! Anything not belonging to the hotel will be returned to you via UPS. I want you out of here now!”

  Had she not been so angry, Rose probably would have cried. This was just like Richmond. His son had beaten and raped thirteen women and somehow it was her fault. The man saw it as his personal mission to ruin her life. She’d been the one to call the police after Tyler had broken the windows out of her car, then given her a black eye and a broken arm after she’d refused to have sex with him. Tyler’s father had seen that as the start of all his son’s problems.

  Turned out the police had just been waiting for the right time to arrest him. It gave them reason to get a few search warrants and a few other things she didn’t understand. All Richmond saw was that, once she called the police, all of a sudden his only son and heir had been accused of a horrible crime. He blamed Tyler’s conviction on the “#MeToo” movement in general and, more specifically, Rose, because she’d been the one to call the police over a simple “lover’s spat.” Since there was no way to get even with the movement, Rose took the brunt of Richmond’s anger.

  Instead of wasting her breath fighting with her boss, Rose just rolled her eyes and left. She knew she could kiss her last paycheck goodbye. Possibly any personal effects she had, too. Thank goodness she hadn’t settled in to this new role or she might have had more personal equipment and mementos in her office. She was sure she’d have lost it all if she had.

  The bus ride to her apartment was long, thanks to the out-of-city commute. Palm Beach was way too rich for her blood. Doubly so now since she didn’t have a job. Depressing though it was, it gave her time to just sit and think.

  The rent was paid up for two months. When Richmond had started harassing her at her job, she’d made a point to get as far ahead on the bills as she could. She’d known from the start it was only a matter of time before he got her fired.

  By the time she got home it was nearing five o’clock. She wondered if Mr. Ferguson would even notice if she didn’t show up when she was supposed to. She was smart enough to know the man didn’t want her there. Why he’d told her to come back was beyond Rose. He belonged in that penthouse. She didn’t. Rose had grown up dirt poor and had learned to recognize people with money at an early age. This guy might be a little worse for wear, but he would definitely fit in with the type of wealth that frequented the Breakers. She sighed. He’d likely forgotten all about her and that little incident.

  In a way, she kind of hoped he hadn’t. That he’d be so put out at her no-show that he’d cancel the rest of his trip. She knew it wasn’t going to happen, but she could wish. More likely, Mario would have her replacement there already. They were probably deep in negotiations about Mr. Ferguson’s entertainment for the evening.

  She’d just gotten off the bus at her block when her phone chimed. Glancing at the screen she saw it was from the hotel. Fuck ‘em. She turned the thing off and stuffed it back in her purse. It wasn’t like she had anyone who’d be calling her, and she damned well didn’t want to talk to anyone at the resort. Other than maybe Richmond to gloat or threaten her some more, she had no one who’d be calling her.

  On second thought…

  She dug the phone out of her purse and tossed it into a nearby trash bin. She’d only been in the city six months. She’d been so focused on rebuilding her life she hadn’t had time for a social life, and all her so-called friends had bailed on her when she’d called it off with Tyler via police. She was done being a slave to the nastiness of others. She’d find a job cleaning houses or at a fast-food joint. Save everything she made other than to buy cheap food. Once she had enough money, she’d take a bus to LA or maybe Seattle. Someplace far away from Palm Beach. Far away from a life that no longer agreed with her.

  Chapter Two

  Five o’clock came and, precisely on time, the bell to Torpedo’s suite chimed pleasantly. He’d dressed carefully, wanting to make a better impression on the girl. Mainly because he’d been such an ass before, but also because the few minutes he’d been in her company, he’d liked her. She’d taken everything he’d thrown at her and rolled with it. Right up until he’d sexually harassed her. Any balking she did was
more than understandable. He owed her more than an apology.

  Torpedo opened the door expecting her serene face only to find a tall, thin male. He wore a uniform much the same as Rose had, only more formal. Probably because it was evening. He had pleasing features, if a bit too pretty for Torpedo’s taste. The guy had a shave so close it looked painful. Torpedo disliked him on sight.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Ferguson. I’m Jason, and I’ll be your butler for the duration of your stay.”

  “Rose is my butler,” he said. “I have no desire for anyone other than her.”

  “Rose is indisposed, but I assure you I’ll be even more efficient than she was.”

  Torpedo shut the door in the guy’s face. He had a moment to wonder if she’d been angry at him and had requested to have someone else take over, but even if she were pissed at him, it didn’t really make much sense. She’d be giving up the penthouse in this hotel, which equaled the biggest tip and likely the largest pay. Which meant it was at least possible she’d been replaced unwillingly. If it was because of him, he’d owe her more than an apology.

  Torpedo tried not to jump to conclusions or let his temper get the better of him. Yet. Picking up the phone, he called down to the front desk. It rang exactly once before a male voice answered. Jason. “I’m still outside in the foyer, Mr. Ferguson. We can set your itinerary whenever you’re ready.”

  “I won’t work with anyone other than Rose. I’d like to speak to your supervisor.”

  “Of course, sir. I’ll get Mario. Would you prefer he come to your suite?”

  “Not unless he brings Rose with him.” Torpedo hung up the phone with a bit more force than necessary. A couple minutes later, the phone rang, and Torpedo let it. He knew getting what he wanted depended on making hotel management come to him. Sure, he could be rude and condescending, but he wasn’t really that kind of person. He preferred to give an order and force it to be followed. By not answering the phone now, he hoped he could force this Mario bastard to bring Rose to him.

  Again, the phone rang. Again, Torpedo let it.

  Fifteen minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door, not the soft chime of the doorbell. Torpedo leaned against the bar and poured himself a Scotch. The ice tinkled softly in the glass as he filled it. He waited and, like he knew would happen, there was another knock, louder this time.

  Torpedo knew it wasn’t Rose. He just had a feeling. So he waited until the doorbell chimed softly. Before setting down his glass, he drained it in a long swallow. Just as the chime came once again, he sauntered to the door. When he opened it, he found Jason with a shorter man.

  “Good evening, Mr. Ferguson. I’m head of domestic and concierge services, Mario Salazar. I understand you’ve had a bad experience with our staff and would like to remedy the situation.”

  “Bad experience?” Torpedo realized now that Rose might have taken the backlash of more than his bad mood. “If by bad experience you mean Rose wasn’t here at five like she said she’d be, then yeah. I’ve most definitely had a bad experience. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get with Rose and see exactly what services this place has to offer someone such as myself.”

  Torpedo was a biker and a mercenary. Not dropping the F-bomb every other word took effort, but he’d also grown up with some wealth. Enjoyed it still, thanks to his work with Cain and ExFil. He knew angry words and threats of retaliation often worked wonders with hotel staff simply because they wanted to avoid bad publicity. Especially when the guest had booked the fucking penthouse for over a fucking month.

  “I do apologize, Mr. Ferguson, but Rose is no longer with us. Call it a disagreement in work ethic.”

  OK. That got his attention. “I see. And exactly when did this… disagreement take place? Because she was here and happily employed two hours ago.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss personnel matters, Mr. Ferguson,” Mario said with a smile. “I’m sure you understand. Now, if you’ll allow Jason to --”

  Torpedo shut the door firmly in the man’s face.

  Pulling out his cell, he dialed Data. Data was Bones’ intelligence man. If there was any information on anyone in any computer system anywhere, Data could find it, access it, and pass it on to wherever it was needed.

  “Everything all right, Torpedo? No one expected to hear from you for at least a couple of weeks. I heard your charge was the devil incarnate.”

  “Not talking about it, brother,” Torpedo said, a smile tugging at his lips. The only reason Data had brought it up was because all three of the men had complained about her. Daily. Trucker had accused them all of whining as much as they accused her of whining, and Data had gotten in his own digs.

  “What do I owe the pleasure of this call then?”

  “I need information.”

  “Oh? Anyone I know?”

  “A girl.”

  “Uh oh. Has the mighty Torpedo finally found his downfall? And here I thought it would be the pretty, spoiled little rich girl.”

  “Just remember I have a photographic memory. I am keeping track of every single remark, and I will retaliate.”

  Data chuckled. “Truce, brother. What is it you need?”

  “Her name is Rose. That’s all I know. She worked at the Breakers until about two hours ago. I need a name, address, and phone number.”

  “Wow. You don’t want much, do you?”

  “Can you do it or not?” Torpedo wasn’t really angry, he just wanted results.

  “Relax. I’m already into the hotel’s system. Her name is Ambrosia Gataki. She just turned nineteen. Sendin’ her last address and phone number to your phone.” Torpedo could hear Data’s fingers flying over the keyboard of his computer. He could just imagine the intelligence man sitting at the bank of computer monitors he called his command center. The thought was comforting when his stomach felt like it was tied in knots. Until she hadn’t shown, Torpedo hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking forward to seeing Rose. Possibly sparring with her. She’d seemed so unflappable right up until the end that he relished the idea of pushing her until she snapped at him. “I did a search for her and found some… interestin’ things. Sendin’ that to you as well. You better be careful with this one, brother. Looks like she’s been through a lot. Still goin’ through shit.”

  “What do you mean?” A tingle started at the back of his neck. Never a good sign.

  “Just read the articles I sent. I also passed along some court documents. She’s been in Palm Beach about six months. Worked at the Breakers for four. All was goin’ well until Richmond Foley got involved.”

  The name wasn’t unknown to Torpedo. He was a real estate mogul with a colorful past. Had two kids. Both stayed in trouble. Best he could remember, one recently got into more than even Daddy could handle. “What’s he got to do with anything?”

  “Read the stuff I sent you. I just skimmed.”

  He hung up and proceeded to read. Until he saw red.

  * * *

  The sun set in a fiery orange ball behind the city. Rose loved being on the beach at sunrise and sunset. Her job at the hotel had prevented both for all but the occasional morning and evening since she’d started there four months ago. Now, she was determined she would take full advantage of it while she could. Tomorrow she’d take the day off. One day to enjoy the sun, sand, and sea. The next day, she’d start job hunting. If she couldn’t find anything close to her apartment, she’d look closer to the city. She wasn’t looking to get rich. Just enough to set money back so she could move before her rent money ran out.

  The tide was coming in, but she sat in a beach chair far enough back to enjoy the water without getting inundated. As the waves rolled gently to shore, her feet dug into the sand, letting the water pull the grains back before sliding up the beach once more. If there was a heaven, she hoped it had beautiful beaches like this one.

  It was dusky dark before she started back to her apartment. Sitting on the beach always calmed her mind when things became too chaotic. Now was no exc
eption. Rose was always surprised at how much more centered she felt after a few hours just sitting and listening to the waves crash and the gulls cry. It was paradise.

  Her sandals dangled from her fingertips as she strolled along the sidewalk, still warm from the day’s sun. Nighttime in this part of Florida was lovely. It always amazed her how it was warm at night even this early in the year. Her own home state of Ohio was frigid in winter, even at the beginning of March. It was just one of the reasons she loved it here, though she admitted to missing white Christmases and snow angels. Hell, she might end up back there before everything was over, though she intended to make her next stop Seattle. Richmond might leave her alone if she left the state. At least, that was her hope.

  Her apartment wasn’t in the best part of town, but it wasn’t overrun with crime or anything. She had to lock the doors and watch she didn’t leave anything of value out where someone might be tempted to investigate, but it wasn’t a bad place. The building was relatively clean and free of the trash or drug paraphernalia some areas were plagued with. It wasn’t what Tyler had promised her, but she’d take this over anything that bastard had offered her. Mainly because she knew what to expect. What she had to pay for it.

  She had never expected anything from Tyler or Richmond, but once she’d agreed to marry him, it was like her whole world changed. She was suddenly expected to dress a certain way, to have the right friends, to behave the way they deemed appropriate. She’d lost herself in those few months she’d been with him, and she grew to be increasingly distressed in their world. It all culminated with the night Tyler had assaulted her.

  No. She wasn’t going there. Not tonight.

  Rose unlocked both locks to her apartment and turned on a light…

  And came face to face with Gavin Ferguson.

  He sat in the corner on her couch, scrolling through his phone, a scowl on his face.