by Lila Rose
Where was she, then?
I goddamn hated puzzles because I wanted to solve them. Yet I had a feeling I needed or wanted to take my time with this one. I had to find out more about the woman.
Picking up my phone, I shot off, What’re you doing?
There wasn’t an answer right away or even an hour later. I bloody checked again and again. Maybe she worked and couldn’t reply.
“Hey, Warden, did you get the fax from Tom yet?” Violet asked. She was my boss, but she treated her employees like we were all on the same level. Didn’t think I would work for a woman in a private investigating office, yet there I was. I’d started out life in the army, fucking hated it. So I saved, delisted, and got my degree in criminal justice with a certificate in security operations and investigative services. Worked for a joint in Melbourne. Couldn’t stand the owner—he thought his shit didn’t stink. I moved to the country, was going to take a bouncer job until, to my goddamn shock, I saw an ad for an investigator. Didn’t think a small town would need a firm, but after being around for four years, I knew Violet had a name for herself. Clients came from all around Australia asking for help. Though, since Violet had gotten back into the fold with her brother, the local president of the Hawks MC, it seemed our time got even busier, as well as our usual workload.
“Not yet,” I called.
I heard her chair squeak and looked over to see her leaning back in it with her eyes on me. “You checked recently? Because I haven’t seen you check anything but your phone for the last hour.”
Shit.
“Nope,” I said, then rolled my chair back to check the fax machine. Fucking hell, it was sitting there, and it said he’d sent it an hour ago.
“You good?”
“Yep.” I read over the file, knowing Violet was still looking at me. Thank Christ, Tom sent me something I could follow up. Standing, I pocketed my phone. I grabbed my gun from my locked drawer and slipped it into the back of my jeans. I’d fucking forgotten my holster in the car. “Gonna run out. Tom got the report in from toxicology. She had been doped up to the max. Headin’ to the club she was last at. Asked about her, but never questioned them about drugs happenin’ in the area.”
Violet shot me a chin lift. “Keep your head in the game.” Yeah, she knew my mind was elsewhere that morning.
“Will do. When Zara gets back, tell her to keep my lunch warm in the oven.”
She snorted. “Can’t have your precious lunch go to waste.”
Narrowing my eyes, I told her, “Not when it’s from Seymore’s. And if you or Butch fuckin’ even think of eatin’ it, I’ll kill you.”
“You threaten, and yet it never happens.”
“It will this day.”
She waved me off and went back to whatever she’d been doing on the computer. I made my way out to my Hilux ute. The mother of the girl who’d been at the club even when she was underage had contacted Vi’s office to look into it. She felt the cops weren’t doing enough, and she wanted the men to pay for what they’d done to her girl. Not only had she been drugged, but they raped her, then dumped her body in a back alley. It’d been the previous night I’d found out her case wasn’t the only one, and this shit had been going on for fucking years. It was no wonder the mum, Mrs Henson, felt the cops wouldn’t get the answers she wanted. I just damn hoped I could get them for her.
The club wasn’t far. I knew it’d be open because during the day, people could get pub meals there. Walking in, I headed straight to the bar. Two barmen were behind the counter. One was taking meal orders, the other drinks. Since I wasn’t eating, I waited for the other.
When he made his way towards me, I took in his name tag. Terry.
He nodded. “Hey, man. What can I get you?”
“Name’s Warden. I work for an investigation firm. Hired by the mother of the young girl who got taken from here over a month ago. Know the police have gone through the videos, interviewed people. What I want to know is if anyone workin’ here knows about the high percentage of drugs in the area.”
“Look, man, you’re asking the wrong person. I only work the day shift, and I can honestly say I haven’t seen any dealings here. The man you need is the manager. He can get you a list of the night staff. They’re the better ones to question.”
“Okay, where can I find the manager?”
“He’s on holidays for another two weeks.”
Fucking hell.
“Then who’s in charge until he gets back?”
“Phillip at the register there. But he’s a lazy fuck. Made sure he only works days, never comes in at night. That’s what I heard from Shanti.”
Goddamn idiots.
“Who’s Shanti?”
“Oh, a girl who works night shifts that I’m screwing. Shanti Summers.”
“You got a number for her?”
“Yeah, sure.” He grabbed his phone out and rattled off the number. I quickly jotted it down. “Do you want me to tell her you’re wanting to talk to her?”
“No. In fact, don’t tell anyone we spoke.”
His brows dipped. “Looks kinda suss we’ve been speaking this whole time.”
“If anyone asks, think of somethin’ to say. If I find out Shanti or anyone on night shift is expectin’ me, I’ll know you talked, and I won’t be fuckin’ pleased. Get me, Terry?”
“Yes,” he just about squeaked.
With a chin lift, I turned and walked out of the bar, back into the cool air. I pressed a number into my phone. Butch answered, “Yeah?”
“Need an address, a Shanti Summers.”
“On it. Oh, and thanks for lunch.”
“You fucker,” I got out to a laughing Butch before he hung up. The guy hadn’t been on the team long at Violet’s firm, but he was solid. It was a sad day when Chuck left, but having Butch as his replacement was good.
When my phone rang again, I expected it to be Butch. “What?”
“Someone’s in a mood.” I could hear the smile in Mally’s voice.
Malinda May, or Mally as a lot of people called her, was a woman I could have fucking fallen for. That was if she ever looked past Declan Stoke, a member of the Hawks MC. Now she had her happy ever after with a man who thought she was the shit. Which she was. Sweet, caring, calm, happy, and damn beautiful.
She’d had some shit happen about a year ago. Violet helped out, which had me helping also. Mally and I got close. Not the close I wanted, but having her as a friend meant a ton to me than not having her in my life.
“Darlin’, how you doin’?”
“Good. But I’m guessing your day could be better.”
“It is now.” I grinned when I heard her laugh. “What can I do for you?”
“Josh has been hounding me to ring you. He wants to know if he can come stay at your place over the weekend.”
“The boy should ring himself and ask.”
“I told him that. I think no matter how much he looks up to you, you still intimidate him a little.”
“Me? He lives with a badarse and I intimidate him?”
“I know. I can’t explain the mind of a fifteen-year-old.”
“You tell him when he calls, I’ll let him know the answer. As long as you and Stoke are cool with it.”
“You know we are.”
“Even Stoke?”
She laughed. “Yes. He might not like our friendship, but he understands it. He trusts you, Ryan. With me, and with the kids.”
“Good. Get your kid to call me.”
“Will do. Lastly, when are you coming for dinner?” Hanging out with them separately I could deal with, but after the last dinner I went to the other night left me feeling like I was missing out on something in my life, I stayed away. I didn’t like it.
“After I have a house-warming.”
She sighed. “You’ve been saying you’re going to have one, but it hasn’t happened.”
Wasn’t sure if it would happen, which was why I used it as an excuse for not going to dinner, for now. Soon I’d h
ave to think of something else, or Mally would sniff out the problem. Then she’d try and set me up with someone. I didn’t want that shit. I was good with fucking and leaving, or me getting them out of my house.
“Know that, darlin’, but one day I will.”
“Fine. We’ll talk soon.”
“You got it. Later.”
“Bye, Ryan.”
Stoke was one fucking lucky man.
Shaking my head, I pocketed my phone and climbed in my ute. I decided to head to the office, see if Butch had taken my lunch, beat the shit out of him if he had, while waiting on details of that Shanti bird.
It wasn’t until I pulled up out the front that my phone pinged. Taking it out, I saw I had a message waiting for me from an unknown number. I glanced down at my chest, wondering why my fucking heart acted weird. Ignoring it, I opened the message.
Emmie: Sorry for the late response, I was working.
Why did it feel like a lie?
Ryan: What do you do?
Emmie: Stuff. You?
Ryan: Stuff.
An uneasy feeling settled in my gut. She didn’t want to say much about herself, and it told me she was either a fake, some kid messing with me, or she had troubles.
From the messages before, I was definitely leaning towards troubles.
However, if I found out it was a kid, I’d teach them not to mess with anyone again.
Christ. I scrubbed a hand over my face as my phone beeped. Why was I not wanting it to be a kid? Jesus, was I that desperate for a woman’s attention that I was going to continue this shit?
Fuck no. I wasn’t desperate. I could find a woman to warm my dick if needed.
Like I’d felt before, I needed to know where this was going. Who Emmie was and if she needed help. Why else would she text some guy in the middle of the night needing more music in her life?
Emmie: I’m sorry. I’m boring. My job isn’t worth talking about. I shouldn’t have texted in the first place.
Ryan: You never did say how you got my number.
Emmie: I did. I said magic.
Ryan: Right. Forgot it. Just need to know, darlin’, do you need help?
There wasn’t a reply for a good few minutes. I watched the clock.
Emmie: Why would you ask?
Ryan: Not many would message a stranger in the middle of the night asking for another song because it was soothing to them.
Another couple of minutes passed.
Emmie: I had a nightmare. Your music helped.
What made her have bad dreams?
She sent another, and it fucking annoyed me.
Emmie: I’m going to stop messaging you. I shouldn’t have started. I’m sorry.
She wanted to run because I’d asked too many questions. I just knew it.
I’d let her think she’d won, until later when I wasn’t supposed to be working and was at home. Until then, I’d shove it to the back of my mind and get on with my day. Or damn well try to.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMERSON
I slept through the morning since I didn’t get much the night before. What scared me was how I hadn’t woken when either Lenny or Gloria delivered my lunch. When I opened my eyes, I saw it sitting on the floor at the end of the stairs. Only the fear evaporated when my thoughts drifted to the previous night.
Ryan Warden.
His voice, the way he easily played the guitar. Both mixed together amazingly.
With excitement rolling through my belly, I made my way over to my hiding spot for my phone. While I ate, I wanted to read through the texts again. Only when I pulled it free, I saw I had a text waiting for me.
Ryan had reached out to me.
He texted me first on a new day.
My hands shook as my excitement bubbled up higher. I opened the message… and my smile slipped from my lips.
He’d asked what I was doing.
What could I tell him? Living in a basement because my aunt wants to keep me locked away after I saw something I wished I never had? Oh, and they killed two people because of me, but hey, that’s okay. I’m sure I won’t get you killed.
No.
I had to lie, lie, lie, and I hated myself for it, but if it meant keeping him safe, I would.
When I sent back an apology with my delay and how I was busy with work, I regretted it as soon as I pressed the button. It was too late to take it back though, and I was surprised with how quickly he replied asking what work I did.
I thought responding with “stuff” would get me out of it, especially when I asked what he did. But when his short same-word reply came back, I hated it. He was being evasive because I was.
Before I would say anything, not that I knew what to say even when sorry didn’t feel enough, he asked me how I got his number. He mustn’t have reread the messages like I had the night before, because I certainly remembered telling him. So I said that.
Ryan: Right. Forgot it. Just need to know, darlin’, do you need help?
My heart stumbled over its next beat. Darlin’. It wasn’t darling, but darlin’.
“Darlin’,” I tried aloud. A new smile touched my lips and tugged up the corners. I read the text again, puzzled as to why he would ask if I needed help. Which was what I sent back.
Ryan: Not many would message a stranger in the middle of the night asking for another song because it was soothing to them.
That was true. It had been crazy for me to do it. But he gave me something I wouldn’t forget, so I replied with the truth, about waking from a nightmare and how his music helped me. A tightness in my chest formed after I sent it. Regret.
Reaching out to him and the continuing messaging wasn’t going to work. I didn’t know the man, even when he seemed like a good person. I had to put a stop to it.
I had to.
For my sake and especially his.
Which had me replying with how I was going to stop messaging him, and I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. How I was sorry.
I had been sorry. For annoying his life, for not having him in mine, for thinking I could continue whatever this was… a budding friendship, with attraction on my part for him. Still, it would end.
It had to.
I just had to keep telling myself that.
And when he didn’t reply, I wiped away the annoying tears and welcomed anger in. Anger at myself for replying so quickly to him when I saw his text. I should have left it alone.
Sighing, I put the phone away and went to grab my lunch off the floor. Taking it to the bed, I sat down to eat, but I wasn’t feeling hungry all of a sudden. Instead, I placed it on the floor and curled my knees up to my chest. I’d allow the memory of his voice to float through my mind. It would help to keep me going until I could be free, either living or not.
Hours later, and finally done with more tears, I got up from the bed only to sink back down. My legs were weak. I then ate what I could from the plate. Half of the peanut butter sandwich. I used to eat twice as much, but I couldn’t stomach it any longer. I knew the weight I’d lost could be a danger in the end. If I got sick, I couldn’t be sure I’d bounce back from it.
It could be a blessing. But when I still felt there was a chance, it was simply another nightmare I had to face. At least I had a substantial amount of water from the sink in the small bathroom, so I knew I would never dehydrate. If I remembered correctly, a person could live on little to no food for a long time if all they had was water.
I just had to pray any type of sickness, where I couldn’t make my way across the room to that water, wouldn’t come to fruition.
What would be better was if Gloria or Lenny got sick enough to die. But I wasn’t sure Harriet would be safe even then. Gloria could still call the other men to deal with Harriet and her family.
But that was if either Gloria or Lenny called them.
If they didn’t call, I could get help, and Harriet would be fine.
Why hadn’t I thought of it before?
Maybe because stupid fear ha
d kept me crippled for so long.
I’d seen two people die. I didn’t want any more deaths to happen.
My mind tripped over random thoughts. Thoughts I shouldn’t have been thinking because they were connected to more death.
Of Gloria and Lenny.
Groaning, I rubbed a hand over my face. It was impossible. I didn’t have the strength to go against Gloria or Lenny. I couldn’t see anything happening to them. Not enough to see their lives ended where they wouldn’t contact their people. I certainly couldn’t kill them, nor did I know anyone who could. Risking more people would be foolish. I thought to ring the police, get them to Harriet’s before they came here, but then Gloria still had time to call the others. And even with the police at Harriet’s, the others could somehow slip by and kill them, while killing the police in the process.
At every turn, all I saw was more death.
Once again, I was out of luck with my new thoughts, so I pushed them aside.
Harriet would stay safe, and I’d go back to waiting until my visit to the attorney for a chance at escape.
God, I would give anything to go back to the days where horse shit, morning and afternoon chores, and homework were the only things I worried about.
Instead, it was all dark, dooming thoughts plaguing my mind.
That was until the previous night when I’d heard beauty.
Shit, Emerson. Stop thinking about him.
It was hard though, because I’d gone without contact for so long. Yet there was now a man asking and willing to help without even knowing me.
Damn him for moving in next door.
For giving my mind and body thoughts and reactions I hadn’t had in a long time.
Life seriously wasn’t fair.
Grimacing, I pushed the plate on the bed and covered it with a blanket to try and stop the bread from drying out. My legs were a little steadier when I climbed to my feet. I needed to make sure I moved around a lot more and not let myself laze about, losing my remaining strength.
I made my way towards the bathroom to wash my hair. I hoped the task would keep my mind off things, even if for only a moment.