Unraveled (The Untangled Series Book 1)

by Ivy Layne

  "Works for me." I unsnapped my seatbelt and opened the door to Evers' SUV before he could change his mind. I was still wearing my hot pink linen sheath dress with matching sandals and clutch, and a filmy, patterned scarf. I had no idea what was behind those papered-over windows, but I was sure it was not the kind of place that called for hot pink sheath dresses and cute matching sandals.

  Evers slid his arm around my waist and took the lead, guiding me across the small parking lot to the door. He shook his head as he pulled it open as if asking himself what the hell he was thinking.

  The inside of the bar looked as if it had once been a fifties-style diner with naugahyde booths and a long counter. But where in the past there might have been a griddle and cooks working, now there was a bar, the shelves makeshift and rickety.

  Conversation ground to a halt as the patrons caught sight of us. I'd been right. Hot pink sheath dresses with cute matching sandals were not the normal attire at The Bar. Neither was Evers' dark suit.

  We stuck out like the proverbial thumb, and a flutter of nerves tickled my belly. Most of the patrons were male and a little scary. I hadn't had a lot of run-ins with bikers, but these guys were what I imagined bikers looked like. Grizzled and unshaven, in worn leather jackets, with yellowed teeth and growly voices.

  Not sexy growly like Evers' voice could be, but too many cigarettes and cheap alcohol growly. I almost regretted not letting Evers stash me in a hotel. Asheville was a tourist town and an upscale one at that. I'd never visited before, but I knew there were some seriously lush resorts here.

  What was I doing in this sketchy, scary little bar when I could be getting a massage and room service?

  Oh, yeah, looking for my father. This was exactly the kind of place Smokey Winters would hang out. Squaring my shoulders, I leaned into Evers and nudged him further inside.

  We were here. We might as well get this over with.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Summer

  Evers wasn't as creeped out by the bar as I was, but I could tell he was uneasy that I was there. He kept his arm around my waist, guiding me through the dim, smoky room.

  I was pretty sure it was illegal to smoke indoors in North Carolina, but no one at The Bar seemed to have gotten the memo. They didn't look too concerned that they were breaking the law, either.

  Why did I have a feeling being law-abiding wasn't a big concern for this crowd? We squeezed into a spot at the bar, and Evers pulled out a bill, flashing it at the bartender before setting it down and covering it with his hand.

  I didn't see the denomination, but the bartender must have, because he hustled over, his speed belying the suspicious, aggravated look he shot in our direction.

  When he was close enough, Evers moved his hand back, and I caught a hundred on the corner of the bill. I doubted there were any drinks served in this place that would add up to a hundred bucks.

  Abruptly, I realized Evers wasn't ordering a drink, he was ordering information. One hundred dollars was probably the starting price. Crap. My dad was a money pit even when he wasn't around.

  Mentally, I adjusted my budget to reimburse Evers for what he was spending to find my dad. On top of the discount I'd have to offer Cynthia for my time off, my dad was digging into my reserves.

  "You two lost? Downtown's up the hill and through the tunnel."

  "We're looking for someone—"

  "Don't know no one," the bartender shot back before Evers could finish, his small, dark eyes belligerent yet greedy as they tracked the corner of the bill beneath Evers' hand.

  "You sure?" Evers asked, easily.

  The bartender's eyes lingered on the bill, his longing clear, almost poignant before he straightened and looked away. "Don't know no one. You want to stay, order a drink."

  Evers started to reach into his pocket, probably for more money. My expenses racking up in my head, I leaned forward and caught the bartender's eye.

  His expression as he looked at me was only marginally softer than the one he'd given Evers. I set my hand on top of Evers', keeping the hundred dollar bill on the bar.

  "Hey, we don't mean to bug you. I'm just looking for my dad. Smokey? We have some family stuff going on and he's not returning my calls. I'm worried and I need to find him. Can you at least tell us if you've seen him?"

  The bartender and studied me. After a long moment, he said, "You Smokey's girl?"

  "The one and only," I confirmed. Following instinct, I held out my hand, gave him my best smile and said "Summer. Summer Winters. You know my dad?"

  Reluctant and surprised, the bartender shook my hand, then shot a suspicious look at Evers. "If you're Smokey's girl, who's this guy?"

  "He's my boyfriend. He didn't want me to go looking for dad by myself…"

  I trailed off, and my instinct had been right. The bartender's suspicion didn't disappear, but it now included a nod of approval in Evers' direction.

  He muttered, half to himself, "Good thinking." Looking at me, "Girl, you don't want to go wandering the places your dad gets to. You should go home and wait for him to call."

  "I would," I agreed, "but when Smokey's having a good time, who knows how long it'll be before he checks in? You know how it is. I really need to talk to him now."

  The bartender looked at the bill under Evers' hand again, the gears turning slowly in his head. "Smokey's got a tab. I'll tell you where you might find him if you pay it off."

  I sighed. Of course, he had a tab, and of course, we were going to get stuck paying it. I started to step away from Evers to open my clutch for my credit card.

  His arm tightened, holding me still, and he murmured, "Don't even think about it."

  "How much?" he demanded of the bartender.

  "Five hundred."

  The number was bullshit. No bar tab was an even number, plus I doubted this place let its patrons run up a tab that big. How had my dad run up a five hundred dollar tab drinking cheap whiskey? I didn't want to know.

  My dad wasn't against alcohol, per se. He liked to drink, and he loved his beer, but drugs had always been his chemical of choice. I could easily see him having a huge tab with his dealer, but not in a crappy bar like this.

  "Cash."

  Of course, he wanted cash. My new car fund was going to take a hit. This kind of thing was why I understood when my mom divorced my dad. She worked hard, was smart with money, and then he'd pull crap like this and end up frittering away everything she'd worked for.

  Evers was more prepared for this whole scene than I was. He didn't even pull out his wallet, reaching into his pocket and producing a money clip from which he peeled off exactly four one-hundred dollar bills to go with the bill already on the bar.

  The bartender made a grab for the money, fingers outstretched. Evers slid the cash out of reach.

  "When was the last time you saw Smokey?"

  "Couple of days. He came in with a friend. Wallace."

  I knew Wallace. I couldn't remember his last name, but he and my dad had been friends for years. I hadn't seen him in a while, and I couldn't remember where he lived, but I could find out.

  "That's it? Last time you saw him was a couple of days ago with his friend Wallace?"

  "That's it. Now give me my money."

  "Last name for Wallace?"

  "Don't got no last name. Always pays cash. That's all I got for you."

  "Do you know where else my dad hangs out?"

  For the first time, the bartender shifted uncomfortably, eyeing my pink dress and pretty scarf. Almost hesitant, he said, "I do, girl, but let your man here take care of it. Your daddy, he don't pick the best company for a pretty thing like you."

  "He's my dad," I said quietly.

  The bartender shook his head in sympathy. Sharing a look with Evers that was almost commiserating, he said, "Smokey likes The King's Club. You're not going to want to bring her there."

  I had no idea what The King's Club was, but Evers nodded in response. He was going to try to shut me out. I wasn't going to le
t him.

  Evers wouldn't let anything happen to me, and being Smokey's daughter gave us an edge. I looked enough like him that the bartender had dropped his guard to talk to us. Without that, Evers would have had to fork over more cash before we even got to the offer of information.

  Leaving me behind might suit Evers' protective impulses, but it would only drag out the search for my dad. We needed to find Smokey and get back to Atlanta. We didn't have time for Evers' caveman tendencies or for me to wimp out and hide in a plush hotel room.

  The bartender made another grab for the money. Evers held it out of reach. He pulled a card from his pocket, slipped it between the bills and handed them to the bartender, who snatched the money from his fingers and shoved it in his pocket.

  "You see him, you get any information about where he might be, there's more of that in it for you." Evers nodded in the direction of the bartender’s pocket, now stuffed with cash.

  The bartender gripped the cash in his pocket, shrugged a shoulder. "Sure. I hear anything, I'll let you know."

  He wouldn't, and we all knew it.

  I climbed into the passenger seat of the SUV and waited while Evers pulled up an address on his phone.

  The King's Club.

  "You already had the name?" I asked.

  Evers started the car and pulled out of the parking space. "It was on his card, but good to know he's been around in the last few days."

  The SUV idled, blinker on, but Evers made no effort to turn onto the road. Catching my eye, he said, "Is there any way I can talk you into sitting this one out? There are a lot of places I'd like to bring you. The King's Club is not one of them."

  Warning me away wasn't making me any less interested. "Evers, I don't really want to go all over town chasing down my dad in his regular hangouts. I want this over with, and so do you. Let's just do it."

  "I could get a room in a hotel," he offered, "order dinner, we could relax, then I'll head out later."

  He really didn't want me to go to The King's Club. That only made me more determined. I wouldn't be able to relax and enjoy dinner if I knew he'd leave me tucked into bed and go out searching for my dad.

  "I'm coming with you."

  "Fine. But I'm kicking your dad's ass when we find him."

  "I'm not sure I'll try to stop you."

  The King's Club wasn’t far from The Bar. We headed another mile away from downtown and turned down a road that ran along the river, dotted with small businesses and warehouses, all of them run down.

  Evers slowed as we approached what looked like a purple double wide trailer with a spotlighted sign out front. The paint was chipped and faded, but the illustration of a crown and the words ‘The King's Club’ identified our destination.

  The parking lot didn't have many cars. It was early on Saturday night, and whoever liked to hang out at The King’s Club, they weren't here yet. A few older compacts and a hatchback were parked in the back of the building, along with a jacked-up pickup with huge tires, and a red motorcycle.

  Evers pulled into a spot and put the SUV in park. From this angle, I could see that the building wasn't a double wide but two or three boxy trailers connected, the purple paint doing a half decent job of camouflaging the seams. The whole place looked like it would fall down in a stiff wind.

  "This is a bad idea," Evers said.

  Probably. We were going in anyway. If Evers really thought it was dangerous there was no way we'd be here. He just didn't want me to see what was inside that rickety purple monstrosity.

  Perversely, that only made me want to see it more.

  "We're here now. Might as well go in and see if we can find my dad."

  Not waiting for Evers to try to talk me out of it again, I grabbed my pink clutch and hopped out of the SUV.

  He let out a heavy sigh as he joined me, holding out his arm. I took it, smiling up at him brightly.

  "So, what is this place?"

  Evers shook his head in resignation. "It's a strip club. And based on your father's usual haunts, not a good one."

  "There are good ones?" I asked. I was no stranger to bars, but I preferred the wine and martini end of the spectrum. Strip clubs were not in my realm of experience.

  Evers shot me an unexpectedly wicked grin. "Oh, yeah, there are good ones. We'll visit Axel in Vegas and I'll show you what a good strip club is like. Places like this are just—"

  "Just what?"

  "You'll see," was all he would say as he led me to the entrance.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Summer

  A mountain of a man perched on a stool at the door, his eyes half closed, headphones on, his bulk almost hiding the stool. As we approached, his eyes popped open and he said in a lazy, sleepy drawl, "Twenty-dollar cover, two drink minimum."

  Evers handed over forty dollars, and the big man swung the door open. It was just bright enough outside that, at first, the inside of the club looked like a black hole.

  The smells hit me as the door swung shut behind us, cutting off the light. Cigarettes and mildew. Sour alcohol and sweat. I'd never put a lot of thought into strip clubs, only enough to know that guys seemed to like the idea of watching women dance naked.

  Naked was sexy, right? I hadn't even seen this place, and just from the smell, I could tell you it was not sexy.

  The stage came into focus first. Ten feet wide and three times that in length, it was curved at the end, with two shiny gold poles and seats lined up all the way around. Spotlights were trained on the length of the stage where only one girl danced.

  The music was old, a nineties hit I vaguely remembered. The dancer was still mostly dressed. If you could call a red thong and matching bra dressed. I guessed in a strip club that counted.

  Her eyes closed, she swayed to the music, twisting her hips in the direction of the few men circled around the end of the stage. One reached up to tuck a bill in her thong and grab a handful of her ass.

  I would have jumped and smacked him. She registered the bill but not the grab.

  Other girls walked the floor in tiny skirts that didn't quite cover their rear ends and cheap fluorescent push-up bras that showed the top curve of their nipples. Evers led me to a table not far from the stage and gestured for a waitress.

  The girl who came to the table barely looked old enough to drive, much less serve alcohol in a strip club. She wore her bright red hair in two ponytails with fluffy bangs, heavy mascara, and bright pink lipstick. I snuck a peek at her clear plastic platform slides. If I'd tried to wear those shoes I would have fallen flat on my face.

  I expected the same lazy, half-asleep attitude as the bouncer and the stripper on stage, but she flashed us a bright smile.

  "Hey, y'all. What can I get you?" To me, she said, "I love your dress. That pink is so pretty. Did you get it around here?"

  "Two gin and tonics," Evers said brusquely. I kicked the side of his foot with my sandal. No need to be rude.

  "No," I said, smiling back at the girl. "I got it at Nordstrom's Rack. Summer sale."

  "Oh, Nordstrom's. I wish we had one here. Our mall is so lame. Not that I have enough cash to shop. You know how it is."

  She rolled her eyes, and I found myself agreeing, even though I wasn't exactly sure I did know how it was.

  From across the room, a low voice snapped, "Jade!" The waitress swung her head to the bar where a short, skinny man glowered at her.

  She rolled her eyes again and giggled. "I chatter too much, and it drives the boss nuts. I'll be right back with your drinks. Do you wanna run a tab?"

  I looked to Evers who said, "No tab, just the drinks."

  "Coming right up," she said, gliding across the room in those crazy high heels so smoothly I knew she must wear them for hours every night.

  On the stage, the dancer was peeling off her bra, and the patrons’ attention had kicked up a notch, hands reaching out as she went to her knees and gyrated, hips thrusting, breasts motionless on her chest. Those were not real. Pretty, but not real.

&nbs
p; I tried to keep my eyes on the dancer and not the men crowded around her. I didn't have to guess where the smell of sweat and cigarettes came from. Another place where the no smoking rule didn't seem to be in effect.

  If I were up on that stage I wouldn't want any one of those guys reaching out to lay a hand on me. Half of them looked like they hadn't showered in a while, and the other half were just creepy. Hungry and a little angry.

  Jade was back a moment later with our drinks. She set them on the table in front of us and said with an oddly innocent smile, "Either of you want a lap dance?"

  I sucked in a breath, hoping Evers was going to handle her question. I had no clue what to say.

  Did I want Evers to get a lap dance? No.

  Did I want one myself? Also no.

  Jade was pretty, and unlike The King's Club, she smelled good, but girls aren't my thing. Getting a lap dance in this moldy, dark club was not on the menu.

  Smoothly, covering my reaction, Evers said, "Not right now, but can you sit with us for a minute? We're happy to pay you for your time."

  Giving us a curious look, Jade thought for a second, then scanned the mostly-empty floor of the club. She made a signal to another waitress and pulled up a chair next to me.

  She leaned forward, bracing her arms on the table, showing her breasts to their best advantage, her arm sliding next to mine. She did smell good, and her skin was as soft as it looked. The tacky miniskirt and barely-there bra aside, she didn't look like she belonged here.

  "So, you don't want to go into a back room?" she said, raising an eyebrow and giving me an appraising look that brought a flush to my cheeks.

  I was completely out of my depth. I'd been shoved on stage in the middle of a play and no one had given me my lines. Evers didn't answer her question, so I forged ahead. "No, I'm looking for my dad."

  "I figured it might be something like that. We get couples in here every once in a while who want to walk on the wild side, but they usually don't look like you two. We're not supposed to talk about the customers," she shot a look at the bar where the bartender glowered in her direction, "but I'll tell you what. You tell me your dad's name. If I can help you, I will, for three hundred bucks and your purse."