20
I had no idea what the hell just happened.
I’d walked into the diner thinking everything was one way. When I walked out, I was questioning everything.
I couldn’t even count on Rodrigo. Instead of staring me down with his normal hatred, he just watched me go with a blank look on his face.
All I could think of was Hector’s words: whoever those two chingados were, they weren’t Santa Muertes.
If they weren’t Santa Muertes… then who the fuck were they? And how was I supposed to find out?
Actually, the answer came pretty quickly. I just resisted like hell at first.
I was standing on my deck again that night when it came to me. I was looking out at the darkness, and just like that I figured out what I had to do.
I didn’t want to. I hated the fucking idea. My ego hated it even worse. But I was desperate.
And desperate times call for desperate measures.
I phoned Kade and filled him in on what Hector had said.
“…whoa,” was his only response.
Then I told him what I was planning.
“…okay. Can’t hurt,” was all he said, but that was enough reassurance for me that my plan wasn’t insane.
“I’ll call you after I know more,” I said, and hung up the phone.
21
Fiona
Two weeks back in LA and I still hadn’t found an apartment yet. Sid gave me hell about it every day, but he still let me crash on the couch in the back room. Normally the sofa was for catching some shut-eye when we were rotating on a heavy stakeout. I wasn’t the only person Sid employed, and the couch saved people from having to go home, especially if they lived farther away and had to be back in a couple of hours for their shift.
The couch was a plaid-covered, ripped and torn monstrosity with a thousand stains of mysterious origins. It was probably older than Sid, but I could sleep just about anywhere. Plus, there was a kitchen sink and a mini-fridge five feet away. I showered at the gym where I still had my membership, and did my clothes around the corner at the coin laundromat. All in all, it was workable until I got a new place.
I’d only looked half-heartedly. Searched a few online services, but never even went to see anything in person. Part of it was that if I actually got an apartment, I was accepting it was all over. That I would never know who killed Ali, and all my sacrifices and efforts and time in Richards had been for nothing.
And, maybe most importantly, that any chance I had with Jack was dead.
He was in my thoughts constantly. I couldn’t stop thinking about him – his eyes, his voice, his body. The sex, which I came back to seemingly every time my mind wandered (which was a lot). I ached from not feeling his touch, from not having his arms around me, from not tasting his mouth and lips. I thought of him when I went to sleep, when I woke up, and pretty much constantly in between.
But it was over. No matter how agonizing that was, I had to accept it.
Which is why hearing his voice took me by surprise.
I was making a pot of coffee in the back room when I heard him in the main office:
“I’m here to see Fiona.”
His sexy rumble was like something out of a half-forgotten dream – except it wasn’t a dream; he was twenty feet away in the other room, just barely out of sight. Hearing his voice immediately triggered a tsunami of emotions. My legs trembled, my heart thudded, and my stomach filled with fear.
“Fiona?” Sid said, playing dumb. “Nope, don’t ring a bell.”
“I owe her a couple grand,” the voice said, “but she moved and shut off her phone. You sure you don’t know a Fiona Christenson?”
That was obviously a ploy, but Sid wasn’t biting. “You’re an odd one, aintcha?”
“What do you mean?”
“It means I never met a guy before who goes around tryin’ to find people he owes money to. Usually it’s the other way around.”
“I made a promise.”
“Yeah, well, promises are like egg sandwiches – you drop one on the floor, you make another one.”
“…what?”
“Look, bub, I don’t know any Fiona – but I’ll be happy to take the cash off yer hands if it’ll make you feel better.”
I forced my feet to move – Just put one in front of the other – and stepped out of the back room into the main office.
There he was, looking gorgeous in a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and biker boots. He sported the same short beard as before, though he hadn’t kept it up. There was a good week’s worth of scruff in spots where he’d previously been clean-shaven.
I noticed he wasn’t wearing his Midnight Riders leathers, or anything else that would associate him with them. I figured he was trying to stay under the radar. Or maybe the club had taken them away.
Or maybe he was done with all that, the way I’d thought he was done with me.
“It’s okay, Sid,” I said.
Jack looked up at me, and it was hard to read the emotions in his eyes. A flash of anger, definitely, but there was something else there, too.
Desire?
The memory of good times?
…love?
Seeing him struck me dumb. I guess I had the same effect on him, because we both stood there silently just looking at each other.
So long, in fact, that Sid felt compelled to break the ice. “Oh, THAT Fiona.”
“Is there someplace we can talk?” Jack asked me, then glanced at Sid. “In private?”
“Yeah,” I said, and jerked my head at the back room. “In here.”
As Jack walked towards me, my boss decided to be a comedian. Or a curmudgeon. Probably both.
“If you’re gonna bump uglies, go do it in a motel. I don’t wanna hear it, I don’t want any customers hearin’ it, and I don’t want any more stains on the sofa, you hear?”
Jack looked back at him in mild shock.
I just grinned. “Fine. We’ll keep off the sofa and do it on the mini-fridge instead.”
“NO, I keep my diet Cokes in there!” Sid yelled as I shut the door.
22
Jack and I stood there in the back room, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking – but still staring deeply into each other’s eyes. It was awkward. Fear and uncertainty mixed with unmistakable sexual tension.
Jesus he looked hot. His biceps strained the sleeves of the t-shirt, and the white cloth looked like it was painted on over his massive chest. I couldn’t see his abs, but that just made me want to lift up the shirt and run my fingers over his skin.
Except I was afraid what his reaction would be.
“So,” he said.
“So,” I replied. “I hear you owe me a couple grand.”
He smirked. “Yeah, well, you heard wrong.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“I didn’t. This is the tenth fuckin’ place I’ve been to.”
I nodded as I thought it through. “You only knew I work for a PI in Los Angeles – which is why you went around telling people you owe me money.”
“I figured it was better than ‘angry ex-boyfriend.’”
“Is that what you are?”
“What?”
“An ex-boyfriend.”
“No,” he said, and anger flared in his eyes again.
I died a little inside, even though I wouldn’t have even called him that, either.
I don’t know what we were… except that I missed every second of it, and would have given anything to get it back again.
I didn’t think that was an option, though.
We stood there in silence for another few seconds.
“Why didn’t you just call?” I finally asked.
“Because I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”
“I would’ve.”
He clenched his jaw like he was deciding whether or not to tell me something. I wanted so badly to hear him say, Because I wanted to see you.
No dice.
“I wasn’t
sure I’d follow through if I just called,” he said. “I knew if I actually came down here, I wouldn’t back out.”
“Back out of what?”
“I want to hire you.”
It took a second to wrap my brain around that one.
“…what?”
“As a private investigator. I want to hire you to help me take down Lou.”
“Jack – whatever you need, I’ll do it for free. I owe you that.”
“No,” he said firmly. “This is strictly professional. I need help, and I’m coming to you because I can’t trust anybody in Richards.”
A tiny bit of hope sprang up inside me. “If you just wanted somebody outside of Richards, you could have hired anybody at the last nine places you looked.”
“You know the situation and all the players. Nobody else does.”
I wanted to ask, You SURE that’s the only reason?
But I didn’t want to hear him say, Yeah. I’m sure. So I didn’t push my luck.
“You realize I can’t do undercover or any sort of surveillance where I’m out in the open,” I said. “Lou and the entire club knows me. My cover is completely blown.”
Jack glanced at the door to the main office. “What about your boss?”
“…Sid?”
Okay, I hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Is he good?” Jack asked.
“He’s the best in LA. Maybe the whole state.”
“Would he take the job?”
“…I guess so… are you sure that’s what you want?”
“I need help to take down Lou. I don’t care who does it, as long as they’re good.”
“Alright… can’t hurt to ask…”
23
Jack
It was harder seeing her than I’d thought it would be.
For one, she was hot. God damn she was hot. Maybe it was because I hadn’t busted a nut in two weeks, but I don’t think it was just that. Her eyes… her hair in a ponytail… her tits pressing tight against her t-shirt, with that fucking incredible cleavage peeking out from the V-neck…
And the whole back room smelled like her. Not just her perfume, but the scent of her body. I remembered it well from every morning I woke up next to her, and it was driving me crazy.
In fact, I started to get hard.
Then I got angry. All the things she’d done… all the ways she’d backstabbed me… and yet all I could think about was slamming her down on that sofa and fucking her again. Anything to be inside her one more time.
It took a massive effort, but I steered my mind away from that and back to the original plan: hiring her as a PI.
Of course, she’d made a good point about not being able to do any sort of work out in the open in Richards. So I improvised and asked about her boss.
Which brought me face to face with one of the most bizarre fucking people I’d met in a while. And as the former leader of a motorcycle club, that’s saying something.
He looked like a fuckin’ cue ball. Short, completely bald, with black-rimmed lenses that were thick as shot glasses. He was old, but it was hard to tell exactly how old. Maybe 55, maybe closer to 70 – though he seemed pretty spry. He wore a short-sleeve polo shirt with a pair of khakis and tennis shoes, like his mom had just dressed him for third grade. That was a strange contrast with the gravelly voice and the SEMPER FI tattoo on his right forearm.
Just a completely bizarre motherfucker.
First thing he said when we walked back in the room was, “Didja bone on my mini fridge?”
“You would’ve heard us,” Fiona assured him, amused.
“Yeah, you two don’t exactly seem like the quiet types.”
“Jesus, Sid – ”
“Hey, I’m like Sherlock Holmes. I notice shit and make deductions.”
“Speaking of which, Jack here wants to hire us.”
“For money? Or for free cuz he figures you owe him?”
“You, for money,” Fiona said. “Me, I’ll work for free.”
“That’s not necessary,” I told her.
“It is necessary – ”
“You two can argue about it later in bed,” the old guy said. “As long as I’m gettin’ paid, siddown.”
Fiona and I sat down on the other side of his desk.
“First off, I’m normally one fifty an hour. For an out-of-town gig like this, it’s a thousand a day, plus expenses,” the old guy said.
“Jesus Christ,” I said, taken aback. I hadn’t expected it to be that much.
“Sid… come on,” Fiona pleaded. “Friend Prices.”
“You tryin’ to bankrupt me, kid?”
“I told you, I’ll work for free.”
“No,” I said to her. “I told you this was purely professional.”
“Look, I owe you – ”
“Shut up, the both of you,” the old guy barked. “FINE, 500 a day plus expenses. If I was you, Easy Rider, I’d take her up on the offer. Otherwise it’s an extra 250 a day, even at Friend Prices. So take yer pick.”
I did some quick calculations in my head. The body shop was going to close a lot sooner if I hired this guy, but it was going to close no matter what if I sat back and did nothing. With Sid’s help, I might have a chance at taking down Lou and getting my old life back. And having to pay an extra 250 a day would eat up my money that much faster. It might make the difference between an extra week of his time, or him going home early.
“…fine,” I agreed grudgingly. “You can help for free.”
Fiona smiled.
“Alright,” the old guy said. “I know about you already, so tell me what I don’t know and don’t bore the fuck outta me.”
“How do you know about me?” I asked, but realized it was a stupid question as soon as the words were out of my mouth.
Sid looked at Fiona and shook his head. “I hope for your sake he has a ten-inch personality.”
She blushed. “SID – ”
“I’m just sayin’.”
I squinted at him in disbelief, then looked at Fiona. “Is he like this with all his clients?”
“He tends to be nicer to women,” she said. “He flirts with them.”
“Quit yer yappin’, I’m workin’ on Friend Prices here, not by the hour. What’s the story, Easy Rider?”
I started telling him about the club and Lou –
“You’re borin’ the fuck outta me. Next.”
I told him about how Lou had outed Fiona and used that as a pretext for a coup.
As I talked, Fiona couldn’t look at me.
Sid, of course, was sensitive as ever. “You’re borin’ the fuck outta me again. Next.”
So I told him the only thing I was sure he hadn’t heard: about the two robbers not being Santa Muertes, and how I’d heard it straight from Hector and Rodrigo.
“Okay, that’s officially interesting,” Sid conceded.
Fiona stared at me. “You’re sure?”
“Did you even listen to the story?” Sid chastised her. “‘Three scumbags walk into a bar’? Of course he’s sure.”
Three scumbags walk into a bar. I wanted to be pissed, but that was kind of funny.
“You believe them?” Fiona asked.
“Hector has no reason to lie.”
“Okay,” said the cue ball, “first off, he’s a scumbag, so that’s plenty of reason to lie. But it don’t matter, ‘cause whatever the simplest explanation is for somethin’, that’s the simplest explanation.”
“I think you mean ‘best explanation,’” I said.
Fiona closed her eyes and shook her head, like she’d been through this a thousand times already. “Don’t.”
“Simplest ain’t always best, but it’s always the simplest. Best ain’t always simplest, and it ain’t always the truth. So until you got the truth, you go with the simplest. Capiche?” Sid barked.
“So what’s the simplest explanation?” I snapped back at him. “That they’re lying?”
“No. That your old buddy Lou’s behind it.�
��
24
My first impulse was to say No way in hell – but my reasons started to crumble as soon as I looked at them harder.
Deceiving the entire MC and shooting one of our own was inconceivable.
Not for Lou.
It was tantamount to treason.
He’d already committed treason – at least towards me. What was a little bit more?
It was reckless – he’d nearly gotten Benjy killed.
But it hadn’t been himself. To Lou, everybody else was expendable.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I whispered.
“No,” Fiona murmured, then turned to me. “…you think?”
“It’s possible.”
“It’s the simplest explanation,” Sid said.
“But… then why didn’t he kill me?” I asked. “I was right there – if Lou wanted to get rid of me, it would’ve been easy.”
“I don’t know, he’s a scumbag. They’re hard to figure out cuz their brains are so full ‘a shit. Do you look like the guy who got shot?”
“Not even close.”
“Well,” Sid shrugged, “I said it was the simplest explanation, not the best.”
“Jack,” Fiona whispered, like she’d remembered something shocking. She put her hand on my arm almost as a reflex.
Her touch felt good. It stirred something deep inside me, though I never would have admitted it to her.
“What?”
“Right before the robbers came in, I had on that blond wig from one of the strippers… remember? Then I took it off?”
It took a second, but I finally recalled the moment. “Shit, that’s right… I remember telling you when I pulled your hair that night, I didn’t want it coming off.”
Fiona blushed the tiniest bit.
“Too much information,” Sid barked.
Fiona kept on going. “Benjy was hitting on Shelly at the bar – could Lou have told the shooters to kill a guy standing next to a blonde?”
“Maybe… but if Lou arranged it, it would have made a whole lot more sense for him to show them a picture, not just tell them ‘the guy with the blonde.’ That could’ve been half a dozen people.”
Midnight Obsession: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 4 Page 6