by Greg Herren
According to the announcer, Roxy was the next act. Eddie escorted me to one of the VIP booths, stage right. I settled in to wait, waving off the friendly waitress who offered me a shot of tequila from her cleavage. She left in a huff, probably concerned Eddie would scold her for failing to please a favored customer.
Roxy strutted onto the stage, an agile tiger hunting her prey. She worked the pole like an athlete and teased the audience with well-timed clothing tosses. It was quite a show, but it didn’t do anything for me. I tuned out halfway through, and imagined Diamond in her place, her voluptuous curves hugging the pole like a hungry lover. Did Pretov sit in this very seat and watch her dance? What had he seen that caused him to take one of these usually disposable girls and doll her up for public appearances? Whatever it was, I could sense it myself, just from the grainy photo I’d gotten from Hardin. Diamond had something Roxy and the other girls were missing—an edge in her gaze that said this place wasn’t the end of the road.
I didn’t notice the music end. If not for Eddie, I would’ve missed my chance to talk to Roxy. The crowd clamored for her, waving tens and fives to signal their love, but Eddie waved her over to us. She slid into my side of the booth, still panting from her show.
Eddie leaned across the table and pointed at me. “Talk to her about Diamond. Whatever she wants to know.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. Roxy opened her mouth to speak, but I placed a finger on her lips and glared at Eddie. He raised his shoulders. “What?”
“Why don’t you go ask the waitress to get Roxy a drink while I talk to her?” He remained seated, oblivious to subtlety. I tried again. “Eddie, beat it. I need to talk to Roxy alone.” I touched my jacket to remind him I could back up my demand.
“Whatever.” He crawled from the booth and stomped away.
“You pissed him off. We’ll all pay for that later.” Roxy’s voice was silky smooth.
“I’m sorry.” I was. “Why do you put up with him?”
“Don’t you really mean why do I make my living taking off my clothes?”
“Maybe.”
“Why not? I’m good at it. What do you do for a living?”
“I look for people.”
She yawned. “Sounds boring. You make much money doing that?”
“Sometimes.”
“I do better than sometimes.”
I stroked her with my eyes. “I bet you do.”
She leaned closer and slipped a hand between my legs. “You like what you see?”
I inched away. “I’m not here for that.”
“People come here for all sorts of things.”
“I’m here for information.” I paused to allow her to absorb the fact I wasn’t a customer, but her hand stayed between my legs. I let it. “I’m looking for Diamond Collier. Word is you talked to her recently.”
Roxy pulled her hand back. “What do you want with her?”
“It’s private.”
She started to get up. “Then so is anything I may happen to know.”
I placed a hand on her arm, gentle, but insistent. “Please.”
“Eddie said you work for the Russian.”
I resisted the urge to point out there was more than one Russian in the world. “I work for myself.”
She shook her head. “She’s in deep trouble.”
Yeah, most people facing murder charges are. I sensed Roxy’s words carried a deeper meaning, so I pretended to know what she meant. I took a shot in the dark. “I know. That’s why I need to find her. Before they do.”
I don’t know whether it was my sincere expression or the urgent tone in my voice, but she sighed deeply and spilled her guts. “Two of the girls, Angel and Porsche, were there the night it happened. Diamond came by to talk to them yesterday. They’ve disappeared.”
“It” had to be the night Leo was murdered. I nodded, urging her to continue.
“I don’t know anything, personally, but Diamond, she thinks they saw it all go down.”
“So, do you think she had something to do with their sudden unavailability?”
She looked at me like I was thick. “She wanted to find them so they could testify for her. Prove she didn’t do it.”
Sure she did. I played along. “If she didn’t shoot Leo, who did?”
She crawled into my lap, grinding her sex against the buttons on my fly, her tits swaying in time to the music. I was startled, confused, and slightly aroused by her nonverbal answer to my query. While I contemplated how to rephrase the question, she slid forward and pressed her breasts tight against my chest. We rocked together, cheek to cheek, and for a minute I forgot my question. She didn’t. Her voice was low, and her breath was warm.“The Russian’s brother. That’s who.”
*
I climbed into the Bronco and waited for the engine to warm up. I was already warm. Roxy’s lap dance had tickled me into wanting more. I contemplated calling Chance for a drive-by, but she’d already repaid her favor, and I wasn’t in the mood to sink deeper into debt. Instead I focused my energy on the information Roxy had provided. What was Diamond up to? Were her questions designed to deflect attention from herself? If she hadn’t killed Leo Kaminsky, her poking around was only going to get her killed. She’d be better off back in custody if this was how she handled freedom. I’d be better off, too. Bondsman don’t pay bounties for dead bodies.
Leads were scarce. I pulled a crumpled cocktail napkin from my pocket. Roxy had scrawled the name of a bar Diamond frequented and the address of the place Angel and Porsche stayed at before they disappeared. She’d gifted it to me during one of her particularly forceful grinding maneuvers. I recognized the name of the bar. Straps was a leather bar on Maple. A seedy one. I tried hard, but couldn’t conjure an image of Diamond sipping a drink amidst a crowd of guys dressed in buttless chaps who were cruising each other for rough sex.
I glanced at my watch. Nine o’clock, still early by leather bar standards. I didn’t hold out much hope the former address of a couple of strippers would yield any clues, but I was a day behind Diamond and I needed a break. If, by some wild stroke of luck, Angel and Porsche had resurfaced, they might have some info to offer, especially if Diamond had been by to see them the night before. I steered the Bronco out of the parking lot and drove toward downtown.
The apartment complex was a step above the projects. A short, crumbling step. The walkways reeked of old booze and fresh urine. Month-old trash littered the path to the apartment. The only window I could see was covered with a sheet. I heard a voice from inside, and I leaned against the door. The voice was female, but I couldn’t make out the words. I reached down to test the lock, but before I could turn the knob, someone jerked my arm and twisted it behind my back. I whirled and slammed a fist forward, but my assailant spun with me and I only connected with the air by his face. I reached into my jacket, but before I could draw my gun, the bastard kicked me square in the knee and I dropped hard.
Big mistake. I was pissed off now. I gave up on the gun since he was too close for me to get off a good shot. In two swift movements, I grabbed a knife from my boot and slashed at the leg that had taken me down. Blood spurted, and I heard a loud grunt, but the asshole kept coming. I stabbed again, aiming higher this time. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud. I stood and surveyed the damage. He looked vaguely familiar. Surprise was the only reason he’d been able to take me down, since I was taller and outweighed his skinny frame by at least thirty pounds. I found a big gun inside his jacket. Little guy like him needed a big gun.
He was covered in blood, but didn’t cry out. He’d talk, though. I’d make sure of that. I reached down and grabbed the collar of his once white shirt.
“Who are you?”
A solid grunt was his only response. I nudged the handle of my knife against one of his still bleeding wounds. Last chance.
“Who. Are. You?”
He didn’t cry out, but I saw him glance behind me and his expression flashed from defiance to worry. I heard a door slam shut, and I tur
ned in the direction of his gaze. I nearly dropped my knife in surprise as I watched the backside of a blonde in heels and a trench coat run out of the apartment complex. She looked over her shoulder, but didn’t slow her pace. I had a split second to place her. Diamond.
I gave the wounded guy one last look before I took off running. When I rounded the corner, Diamond was nowhere in sight, but a car peeled out of the lot squealing its brakes. I froze the license plate number in my memory. I couldn’t tell if she was in the car, but it was the only clue I had. I wasted a few minutes searching the bushes and knocking on nearby doors just in case the car was a red herring. Nothing. Frustrated, I returned to the apartment doorway and looked down at a pool of blood. Wounded guy was gone, and the trail of blood led in the opposite direction of my hundred-yard Diamond dash. Shit.
I stood and stared as if I could conjure him back. It didn’t work, but my focused energy did resurface a memory, and I realized where I’d seen him before. He’d been standing behind a serving cart in Yuri Pretov’s drawing room. Double shit.
*
Maggie shoved a full plate and a frosted beer, not the cheap brand, across the bar. “You look like hell.”
I didn’t have the energy to protest the truth. Knives were always messier than guns. Not as efficient either. A well-placed shot would have rendered wounded guy immobile, and then I could have used the knife to facilitate our question-and-answer session. Now all I had were blood-spattered clothes and unanswered questions.
I wasn’t surprised Diamond was being tracked. Her questions about Kaminsky’s death likely telegraphed to someone that she needed a visit, but I would’ve expected the visitor to be someone from Kaminsky’s camp. Then again, if she had a mind to pin the murder on Dimitri’s brother, Andrei, then Yuri had a vested interest in shutting her up. The big question was why Hardin hired me if Yuri was going to send his own men to hunt Diamond down. Hell, they were probably using me to find her. They didn’t need me to bring her in because they had other plans once she turned up. Time to give Hardin a call and let him know his client was trying to kill off his jumper.
“Maggie, I need to use your office phone.” I wanted privacy and I might as well conserve my cell phone battery while I was at it. She pointed a finger at my plate, wagging it until I picked up the juicy burger and took two big bites. Satisfied, she waved me to the back.
My first call was to Jess. I started by talking dirty before resorting to begging. She finally agreed to run the plate number. I was racking up quite a tab. Next, I dialed Hardin’s cell. He answered on the first ring and I jumped right in.
“I think your client’s trying to sabotage me. Do you want Diamond brought in or not?” I was talking smack. For all I knew, Wounded Guy was Pretov’s idea of insurance, a backup plan in case I sucked, which currently I did. Yet the guy wasn’t Pretov’s typical muscle. His only means of persuasion was the big gun, and judging by the way I was able to take him down, he wasn’t quick to use it.
“Pretov has a vested interest. He brings her in, everyone wins.” Hardin didn’t have to voice the obvious. If Pretov turned Diamond in, Hardin wouldn’t owe a bounty.
I rolled his statement around in my head for a minute. Something Pretov had said earlier had been itching at me, and it finally surfaced. “Why did you hire me?”
“You need the work, don’t you?”
“Yep, and no one else will touch me. So why you?”
“Pretov asked for you. Said you were the best. Find her, Luca.” And he was gone.
I was the best, even if I was a little off my game. At least I’d finally spotted her, and I had another lead to follow. I glanced at the beer-stained Coors clock over the bar. Eleven thirty. Time to head to Straps.
*
I wore my jacket zipped to cover the blood spatters from Petrov’s lackey. At least I was dressed appropriately, not that anyone in this joint was interested in me. I think my imposing size was the only reason the bouncer had even let me in the door. They might as well post a sign—“No Women Allowed.” Only one of the reasons I wondered why this was Diamond’s haunt. I didn’t rule out the possibility Roxy had sent me on a wild goose chase after I’d only tipped her three dollars for the best lap dance I’d ever had. I’d given her everything I had, but it wasn’t enough. Story of my life.
I stood in the back, near the pool tables. The joint was packed, and I was the only one without a drink or someone else’s body part in my hand. Ten minutes in and I was ready to call it a night. I cut through the crowd, tired and frustrated. My right knee, where Wounded Guy had kicked me, hurt like a sonofabitch. Time to go home, ice up, and make a new plan. I was five feet from the door when I felt her heat, up against my neck. Her voice, every bit as sultry as I imagined it would be.
“I need you to stop following me.”
I turned slowly. She was practically on top of me. Diamond Collier and fifty thousand dollars were mine. I leaned in close and whispered in her ear while I fished a pair of handcuffs from my belt. “But I want you.” As I spoke the last word, I reached around her waist, out of her sight, to secure my catch. Before I could clip one of the cuffs around her wrist, the pair was yanked out of my hand.
Wounded Guy stepped out from behind Diamond and held up the shiny cuffs with a grin. I shot out a hand to reclaim my stolen property—hadn’t we already established who would win in a fight? A cold, hard nudge against my ribs told me I was outnumbered. The gun pointer was my size. I was confident I could take them both, but I couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be bloodshed in the process, possibly mine. Getting shot in a leather bar wasn’t how I saw this scene ending, so I raised my hands slightly in surrender. If I could buy some time, I’d come up with a plan that didn’t involve leaving pieces of my own flesh on the floor.
Diamond motioned for me to follow her. I didn’t hesitate. Neither did the two guys in her entourage. We wove through the crowd to the row of private rooms in the rear of the club. If the front of the house at Straps was seedy, then the back was a cesspool. All I could think about was how many times I’d have to scrub the bottom of my boots before all traces of jizz would be gone. I probably should’ve given some thought to why one of Petrov’s men was hanging tight with his ex-girlfriend.
Gun Pointer shut the door and stood guard while Wounded Guy patted me down. He laid my Sig, wallet, and phone on the only piece of furniture in the room, a leather-covered spanking bench.
The guys had the firepower, but Diamond was in charge. She circled me as she assessed her prey. She was dressed for the part in tight jeans and a leather bustier, those silky bare shoulders from the jail photo back to tease me once again. It was fifty outside. My sensible side wondered if she would catch cold in her current attire, while I burned to ash in response to the heat that came off her in waves.
She repeated her earlier words. “I need you to stop following me.”
If she wanted me to stop, she better put on some more clothes, ugly herself up a bit. Her beauty brought out my bravado. “Is that so?”
“It is.”
I stared deep in her eyes. She didn’t act like a typical jumper—fidgety, paranoid, disheveled. No, she was brazen and bold. “You’re a fugitive.”
She laughed at my statement of the obvious. “I’m a lot of things.” She strode closer. “If I come in, it will be on my own terms. Understood?”
I couldn’t help it, I licked my lips. She was close enough to wrestle to the ground, bind, gag, and kiss. I was tempted to do all three before I remembered the gun trained in my direction. The gun wasn’t the only thing that interrupted my thoughts. My phone rang loudly in the small room. Diamond glanced at the screen. “Who’s J. Chance?”
Perfect timing, Jess. She was probably calling back about the plate number I’d asked her to run. No point now, I knew where Diamond was—for all the good it would do me. “Nobody.”
“And that’s what I am to you. Nobody.” She punctuated the words with finger jabs to my chest. The surge I felt in response to each touc
h told me she was dead wrong. Diamond Collier was somebody. Somebody special indeed.
Within seconds she was gone. Wounded Guy trailed after her. I watched him limp away with a sense of satisfaction. The big guy with the gun stayed behind and kept me in place for several minutes. Then he picked up my phone and my gun and left the room without a word.
Perfect. I had a slew of other guns in the Bronco, but only one phone. I counted to ten and then made myself walk casually through the bar. I knew it was crazy, but maybe Diamond was still out there. There was no sign of her or her friends in the steamy crowd. I started to feel claustrophobic, so I stepped outside. As I made my way to the Bronco, I heard a low rumble and I recognized the sound of the muscle car from earlier in the evening. I couldn’t get all the numbers as it tore past me, but I had no doubt Diamond was inside. I tore open the door to the Bronco and scrambled to fit the key in the ignition. Her demand that I do nothing was motivation enough to do the opposite.
I swung into the driver’s seat and jumped when I felt something hard and metal jab me in the ass. My Sig and my cell. I didn’t pause to wonder why Gun Pointer returned them, but I did murmur a quick “thanks.” As I raced through the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of Diamond’s car, I punched the button to check my voice mail.
Jess’s voice was low and urgent. “Something’s off, Bennett. The plate you asked me to run? It’s in the system, but I can’t get any info on it. Nothing. You understand? Call off the chase and call me.”
So, Jess’s information source was fallible. I was surprised, but strangely satisfied to have to rely on my own instincts. I’d call her later. Right now I was in hot pursuit. The easy apprehension of a stripper turned socialite was fast becoming a more complicated pursuit, but I was up for the challenge.
*
I wondered if the car behind me wanted me to know I had a tail. I hadn’t been paying attention when I left Straps, but within three blocks I realized I was being followed. Probably Petrov’s men hot on Diamond’s trail, but once again they were a step behind. Losing them took an extra thirty minutes. Thirty minutes I wasn’t in the mood to spare. When I finally arrived back at Angel and Porsche’s apartment, I was satisfied they were headed in the opposite direction. For now, anyway.