by A. J. Lape
I had to play it safe…because safe was a heckuva lot better than sorry.
Only one thing made sense. I would have to send the evidentiary proof to Battle anonymously, go Jane Doe and hope for the best. While we brainstormed on the best way to do that, all three of us were deep in concentration when someone rapped a violent fist on the window. Bodhi dropped an F-word when we got another round of the bam-bam-bams, and Boozy recited some, “Our, Fathers.” As far as I knew, Boozy didn’t even acknowledge religion, let alone practice it.
I gazed outside in a nervous frenzy, expecting Bill Roy or an associate to be standing there with a semi-automatic, ready to perform a triple homicide and get on with his night. Funny thing was, it was Domino’s face staring back at us. His cocoa-tinted eyes were wide with shock, and an angry line painted his jaw. Oh, the conundrum we were in. I crawled across the seat to the locked door, rolling down the window.
Domino was almost as large as Dylan, with broad shoulders and a sexual magnetism that could lure the staunchest of man-haters to his feet. “What are you three doing?” he barked.
“Prayer circle?” I said in a nervous giggle.
“Darcy…what the hell.” He grunted in disbelief. “I can’t even begin to fathom why you do the things you do.”
Judgment of any kind wasn’t sitting well with me tonight. Especially from someone who’d rolled with me before with no complaint. “Oh, really?” I said. “You didn’t have that same snark when we bailed Boozy’s butt out a few weeks back. In fact, you were ready, willing, and able…even mad when I left you out.”
Boozy raised his hand. “I’m in the car,” he muttered. “At least wait until I’m out of this shitty Versa to talk about me.” He grumbled to himself how the car still smelled assy.
“Do not tell anyone, Domino,” I said. “We’re on a job.”
“Doing a lot of creative thinking,” Bodhi added.
“Please, just get in, so we can talk,” I added quickly.
Domino took a weary glimpse at the door he’d just come out of. “Remy’s inside,” he said in a panic. “I can’t just bail on her.”
“Is she still with Dylan and the others?” Bodhi asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then she’s safe,” he told him.
“Text them,” I tag-teamed. “Tell them you’re looking around. Dylan knows you can handle things by yourself. They’ll buy it.”
Domino swallowed, once again his eyes darting to the backdoor of Mudder. He didn’t want to chance ruining things with Remy. I got that. Dylan could buy me chips and queso, and I’d burst into tears. Domino, I think, was head over heels and didn’t know what to do with genuine emotions.
“We need your help, Domino. Please,” Bodhi said, ever the diplomat.
Domino groaned. “This whole thing feels really, really stupid.”
Boozy snorted. “When have you ever worried about something like that?” he said.
“Hard to pin down the date, brother,” Domino quipped. “All I know is it changed about eight-nine months ago.”
The dig wasn’t lost on Bodhi and me, which was how long Domino had known they were brothers. Boozy though? God love him. He couldn’t read social cues.
Before I knew it, it was a smart mouth cage fight. Domino’s gaze skewered Boozy, and he spoke so low I could barely hear him. Not good. Not good at all. Domino was a lot like Dylan. When they spoke low, it usually meant they conserved their energy for something extra catastrophic. A good possibility existed Boozy would be dragged out of the car and nailed to a tree by his testicles.
Bodhi swiveled around, shooting daggers at both of them. “Stop it, you idiots,” he hissed. “Get in the fucking car, Domino.”
Domino opened the door and slid into the backseat next to me. I prayed he didn’t throw a wrench in my plans any more than they had already been twisted. “All right,” he said reluctantly, glancing at his watch. “Give me something.”
I did a rewind of everything I knew, all the way down to the fact Twenty Bucks himself gave me information on York and Malone. I watched Bodhi’s face when I mentioned Twenty Bucks’ name, especially since Twenty Bucks held Bodhi hostage in the recent past until Boozy could pay his gambling debt—a debt that Raymond, mind you, paid. Bodhi looked cool and impassive, his eyes telling me he didn’t care the who of it all—only that I got what I needed.
When I readied to tell Domino a corpse was a parking lot away, Boozy opened his mouth with the lowdown. “The whole thing was rather ho-hum if you ask me,” he said. “She watched Malone die. Not her first time, so it wasn’t like he stole her virginity. What really would’ve been weird would be if she had to pull the trigger and cut the guy’s tats off. Then we might have a problem because that might signify our girl has some mental issues. Otherwise,” he said, pausing to shrug, “it’s just another boring, damn day.”
“You did get some frequent flier miles,” Bodhi said facetiously.
“Well, there’s that,” Boozy muttered.
Domino’s expression abruptly changed. I eyeballed him, trying to read his face, but he was as relaxed as a sleeping baby. Domino, being Domino, immediately launched into street mode—not asking questions that didn’t have time for answers. “We need to get this car out of here,” he insisted. “It’s a rental. That’s going to set off some alarms.”
Problem was, none of us had the keys. The Versa had been unlocked when they’d gotten in earlier.
I dug around in my purse, gave up when I didn’t find them, and then dumped the contents on the seat in a hectic search. When there was no sign of a key ring, it dawned on me they had to be back by the recycling boxes, having fallen out in all the craziness. “Don’t say it,” Domino said, knowing by the look on my face what had happened.
“Oh, God. I have to get those keys. They’ll trace them to me. Then it will all be over. It can’t be over,” I said, my voice raising in panic. “Dylan needs me.”
It was well past midnight, and people were entering the club and exiting at the same time. I couldn’t walk back to the recycling bins right then. It could tip someone off. “You should’ve phoned me before you flew down here. I could’ve helped,” Domino said, after he reassured me we would find the keys once the crowd thinned out.
“When? In between you flying to Florida to see Remy? I didn’t exactly see you as having free time. Plus, I’m a sucker for romance, okay? I didn’t want to ruin things for you.”
“But you would ruin them for you?” And he referred to the academy.
“I’m already underwater, Domino. There’s only one way out and that’s to swim for the light.”
“So what’s your plan?” he said. “I still want to help.”
There were times it felt like God was up there with dice, trying to nail down who to save. And I was down here on Earth, jumping up and down with my arm in the air in a pick-me, pick-me gesture. Whatever the case, I was stuck in a Catch 22. Damned if it went wrong and definitely damned if I did nothing.
Surely the good guys were going to win here, right?
I had no other recourse. One step at a time, I said to myself. One step at a time.
“Start talking, boys,” I said to Bodhi and Boozy. “Give me everything you found out tonight.”
Poking around in my purse, I located my burner phone. It did not have a notepad, so I typed up a detailed text and then sent it back to the burner phone’s number of everything I’d discovered—making specific note York’s father was attempting to buy off the judge assigned to the case. Bodhi and Boozy likewise gave me names and numbers as well as a synopsis of what those people had told them. Boozy’s summary I’d already heard. Bodhi, however, just could be a silver bullet. Sia told him York had harassed her since he’d started coming to Mudder. She’d innocently went on one date with him and almost didn’t make it home in one piece. As I’d suspected, Kirby York didn’t appreciate the shutdown, continuing to harass her any time he came to the club. I’d lay money he had been the customer bothering Sia the night she
told Dylan and me someone was harassing her. If true, once Battle interviewed her, it would be evidence for the prosecution that York wasn’t exactly a team player. After that, I gave Domino the phone which contained the videos—deleting my video of Dylan which would implicate me—along with a backup flash drive copy of the video Twenty Bucks had provided, the original being at home under my mattress.
Lastly, I made sure to remind Domino to wipe everything down extensively, so our fingerprints wouldn’t be discovered.
“That’s everything,” I told Domino. “Detective Battle will know what to do.” I placed the untraceable burner phone in his hand, containing Monroe Battle’s personal digits and address to his home as well as the police station. I couldn’t release his hand. Domino was the kind of guy a girl drew strength from. Squeezing his fingers, I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated him going out of his way to make things happen, but as usual, Boozy had a crappy sense of timing.
“Don’t screw this up, or Darcy will reap the ramifications,” he barked. “The others are as good as dead if York isn’t fingered for what he did. You understand, brotha?”
Domino lowered the lids on his cocoa-tinted eyes. “Why don’t you say that a little louder for the people next to us, brotha? I’m not sure they got all of it.”
None of that really mattered at the time.
And we wouldn’t need to contact Detective Battle either.
One look out the windshield, and I clocked on his large frame exiting a Ford Explorer and striding toward two uniforms who’d pulled their squad car up beside him. Their dark figures moved stealthily through the parking lot, glancing right, then left…leaving no spot unwatched or surveilled. A misty fog swirled at their pant legs, and the glow of the starry night left no doubt they were headed right for Mudder. And eventually, I thought, the recyclables.
I sucked in a breath that felt like razor blades. Flying to Florida had been a good idea…
…until it wasn’t.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
When I wrote the SIDE HUSTLE books, I didn’t exactly know what to expect. I’d never written a serial before, and I’m so happy that you, the fans, have responded so positively to the format and to Darcy’s next step in her life! Thank you for still going on the journey with her. If this is your first time diving into a Darcy Walker story, thank you for entering this underdog’s world! She and I promise to keep it entertaining. If you read SIDE HUSTLE, SEASON 2, and enjoyed it, I’d be honored if you’d consider leaving a star rating at the retailer in which you purchased it. Your words mean so much to authors and help other readers discover new worlds. Here’s to wishing you and yours health, happiness, and the grit of the ultimate underdog.
ALSO BY A. J. LAPE
THE DARCY WALKER SERIES
HIGH SCHOOL YEARS
Grade A Stupid
No Brainer
100 Proof Stud
DEFCON Darcy
Foolproof
SIDE HUSTLE SERIES
Season One, Episode 1
Season One, Episode 2
Season One, Episode 3
Season Two, Episode 1
Season Two, Episode 2
Season Two, Episode 3
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A. J. lives in Cincinnati with her husband, two feministic daughters, an ADD dog, a spoiled hamster, and an unapologetic and unrepentant addiction to Coca-Cola. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, watching too much cable TV, or eavesdropping-slash-creeping on those around her. If you would like to receive emails of upcoming releases, please sign up for her distribution list by visiting her homepage .