Reckless Road

by Feehan, Christine

  He’d been such a sad child with his sorrowful blue eyes. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and run, keep him safe. He’d had a mop of light brown hair, streaked with blond, not those white streaks like he had now. They looked like highlights he might have dyed in his hair, but she knew they were there naturally. He’d gotten them the hard way.

  She glanced at her watch. Half an hour. She could start shutting things down. She hadn’t had a customer in the last half hour. She was so lucky. The day had been crazy, with people streaming in steadily. Good for business. Over the last couple of weeks, she felt they were doing very well. Steady, returning customers. That, more than anything else, was what they needed to count on. She was getting a feel for what was needed. Many of those coming in had suggestions, and she took note of them so she could order and keep the right supplies on hand.

  A bright pink Cadillac pulled up to the curb with a screech of brakes, jumped it and bumped off with a loud grating noise. Zara recognized the car immediately. It was Lizz Johnson’s pride and joy. She made a show of driving it slowly up and down the main street of Sea Haven at least twice a week. She always drove it to Anat’s house but called ahead to ensure she could park her beloved vehicle either right out front, where everyone could admire it, or in the driveway of the garage.

  Francine, Lizz’s granddaughter, leapt out of the driver’s seat, doubled over with laughter. She slammed the door hard and came around the hood, still laughing, covering her mouth and shaking her head. She wore a tight skirt that molded to her slim hips and a low-cut blouse that framed her thin rib cage and showcased her set of breasts nicely. Her boots were knee-high, soft leather, a light tan, and worth a fortune. Zyah recognized the brand. Lizz definitely indulged her granddaughter in everything from clothes and shoes to jewelry and even allowing her to drive without her license. As she approached the door to the grocery store, she staggered for just a couple of steps, then recovered her balance, phone in hand, laughing as if it were funny. Clutching her purse, Francine made her way into the store.

  “Zyah. Just the girl I’m looking for.”

  Princess to peasant. That was Francine, and no one was around to catch her act. She was that genuine. She really did think of herself as superior because Lizz had a fortune.

  “Nice to see you, Francine. I see you have your license back. Congratulations. Mama Anat will be so happy for you. She was worried about how you would get around when the rains came.”

  Francine frowned and waved that subject off dismissively. Her driver’s license was clearly of no consequence.

  “I thought I’d take you to dinner tonight. I felt so bad that I went off with that loser biker. I shouldn’t have done that without at least texting you and giving you the heads-up.” Francine smiled, her white teeth dazzling against her red lipstick. She came closer to the counter so she could lean against it.

  “I love your boots,” Zyah said, not wanting to answer immediately. Francine’s good moods could turn on a dime if she was thwarted in her plans, and Zyah had no intention of going to dinner with her. “They’re absolutely gorgeous.” Francine was very vain when it came to clothes, shoes, jewelry and even makeup.

  Francine looked down at her boots, stuck the right one out to admire the soft leather and smirked at Zyah. “They’re so comfortable too. I love everything Jimmy Choooo.” She drew out the last name and then tossed her head laughing, bringing deliberate attention to her earrings and necklace.

  Zyah’s gaze was immediately riveted to the glittering star at Francine’s throat. It was an amazing blue diamond and very, very real, as were the stars at her ears. That was part of Lizz’s galaxy collection. Anat had told her about it and spoken of it in low tones, afraid of being overheard. What was Francine doing wearing a piece like that in public when there were known robbers preying on the elderly? Was she so selfish she would risk her grandmother to show off? Zyah was beginning to fear she would.

  “You’re wearing your grandmother’s blue diamonds. I thought she kept those locked up in a safe at the bank.”

  Francine stuck her hip out. “I talked her into letting me wear them to the charity ball next month. I told her I had to try a couple of pieces with different outfits to see what would go best. It’s such a shame to have such beautiful jewelry and then keep it in a vault somewhere and never even see it.”

  Zyah lowered her voice and looked around, although she knew the store was empty. She just wanted Francine to think she was entering into some kind of conspiracy with her. “Aren’t you afraid those thieves might target you and your grandmother?”

  Francine scowled. “I have a gun. I always carry a gun. Do you want to see it? You would never suspect I have one on me.” Her body swayed, and she gripped the edge of the counter to keep from falling. Before Zyah could answer, she leaned closer, giggling. “You should carry a gun, Zyah. Someday you’re going to need it.” That made her laugh hysterically. She pulled her shirt up to show the tight band around her waist that had the gun holster with the gun fitted to her. “If anyone tries to take me in, I’ll just shoot ’em.”

  “You mean rob you? Or your grandmother? Have you been worried they might? You haven’t seen strangers hanging around your house, have you?” Zyah asked, suddenly feeling anxious. Francine wasn’t making a lot of sense, but then she’d clearly had too much to drink. “Is that thing loaded?” Zyah glanced at the security camera. It made her feel a lot safer to know that there were two Torpedo Ink club members in the back. Someone was always watching.

  “Of course.” Francine dropped her shirt back into place, shook her head and then laid a finger across her lips, then looked around and beckoned Zyah closer. She waited until Zyah leaned across the counter. “I keep my grandmother safe. No worries about her. She might be an old bat sometimes, but I take care of her.” There was love in her voice. “She takes care of me. No one is going to hurt her.”

  Zyah sighed. There was no way she was going to get to go home and take a hot bath and soak in the tub. She was going to have to go to dinner with Francine and make certain she didn’t drive Lizz’s precious Cadillac. She’d definitely had too much to drink. Zyah pulled out her cell phone and texted Player to arrange for someone to get Lizz’s car and take it back to her. She would hate to have it left out all night sitting in front of the grocery store.

  She found it strange that the first person she would turn to for help was Player, when Keys and Destroyer were in the back room, probably watching on the monitor.

  “I think you should teach me to dance, Zyah.” Francine began to undulate her body. “If I learned to belly dance, I could be beautiful and sexy like you. Then I wouldn’t have to be such a whore.” She giggled again.

  Zyah froze. She was barefoot as usual and, although Francine had had too much to drink, she was still blurting out the truth as she saw it. “You are beautiful and sexy, Francine.”

  Francine shook her head. “No, I’m not. Not like you. My mother told me. She said, ‘Francine, you’ll never be like her. You might as well face it. You’ll never be beautiful or sexy. You were an ugly baby, an ugly child and you’re ugly now. Be a whore and go after the money. Men are lying, cheating bastards anyway.’”

  Every word was whispered, but Zyah felt as if they’d been carved deep into Francine’s skin. Branded into her bones. What kind of mother would say those things to a child?

  “Francine, that isn’t true at all. Look at you. You’re so beautiful. I don’t have a clue how to wear makeup. I used to try to copy you all the time. And you have great fashion sense. I never could find the right clothes to suit me. I gave up a long time ago. When we were kids, my grandmother would always comment on what a beautiful child you were.”

  “She did?” Francine’s voice wavered.

  “Ask her. I heard it all the time. And it was true. I was always chubby and had to fight my weight. You were like this beautiful little doll. I can’t imagine why your mother told you that, but it wasn’t the truth. Surely Lizz tells you how gorgeous you really
are.”

  Zyah poured sincerity into her voice. Francine had been a beautiful child. She’d gotten hard as an adult, and she drank far too much. The constant alcohol was beginning to show on her, but there was no question that she was beautiful.

  “It would be fun to go to dinner with you, Francine. Thanks for asking. I’ll just let Player know. He’s with my grandmother right now. I’ll ask him to stay with her until I get back.”

  Francine frowned, tried to straighten and wobbled for a moment and then caught herself, waving her hand dismissively. “Why would Player be with your grandmother?”

  Zyah winced at the belligerence in her tone. Francine had wanted to be with a member of Torpedo Ink. She was a naturally jealous woman, and she would want what she thought Zyah had. All the points Zyah had made with her were lost that quickly. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that Torpedo Ink was looking out for Anat while she worked, or that they were there at night.

  “We were going to go out tonight,” she said. “I just texted him and said I wanted to go to dinner with you.” She hoped that would be enough to placate Francine.

  “Invite him to come with us,” Francine said. “There’s no reason for him to be bored out of his mind staying with an old lady who will just talk his ear off when he could be with the two of us. We can go to Alena’s restaurant. He’d love to be with us; you know he would. Men like Player take on two women at once.”

  She leaned on the counter with both elbows and deliberately stared straight into Zyah’s eyes. “Have you ever done that? Been with a woman and a man? Or been with two men? I’ll bet Player’s shared a woman. And I’ll bet he’s had more than two women plenty of times. Ask him. I dare you. Text him right now and ask him. Ask him if he wants to party with the both of us tonight. We can go to his clubhouse.”

  Francine’s face took on a greedy, almost obscene look of grasping glee. “You know how he got his name, right? Player? Did he ever tell you? Because I know how he did. Heidi told me. He took a bet one night from the others that he could do fifty women and they’d all call him back wanting more. They made the mistake of not making a rule that it had to be one woman at a time. He’s that damn good, but you already know that, don’t you?” She licked her lips, her eyes bright. “Come on, Zyah, you must have shared before. If you haven’t, there’s no hope in hell of keeping a man like that.”

  Zyah ignored the way her heart reacted. She knew Player wasn’t like that. She’d been in his mind too many times, but she also had seen some of the parties in his head, those women all over him. Sometimes, like in that one little moment, it was difficult to push the images away. She kept her expression perfectly serene, a gift from the years of working overseas. She snapped her fingers.

  “Let me have the car keys, Francine. I’ll close the store and we’ll head over to Crow 287. Player can stay with Mama Anat tonight. I don’t like leaving her alone. You probably don’t remember, but she was beaten pretty severely in that robbery, and she’s nervous. He said no problem. He’s got his guitar, so he’s happy.”

  The door to the grocery store swung open, and Perry Randall sauntered in. Zyah tried not to react with a sigh, but the night was getting worse by the minute. Perry was dressed to go out, in slacks, a silk shirt, a dinner jacket. Nice shoes. His clothes cost more than her car. He dragged off his dark sunglasses, which, since it was already growing dark outside, he really didn’t need, and his gaze immediately took in both women. He whistled.

  “Why would I give you my keys?” Francine snapped, fury building in her eyes. “You’re such a little prude, Zyah. You always were.” She whirled around at the sound of the appreciative whistle, and at once the expression on her face changed. Color swept into her cheeks, and she pushed her blond hair back to show off the earrings.

  “Ladies. I can see I’m in luck tonight,” Perry greeted.

  Francine tossed her head flirtatiously. “I think you are, Perry. It has been a hot minute since I’ve seen you, and you’re looking fine.”

  “Not so bad yourself, Francine,” Perry returned, winking. “Zyah. Came to take you out to dinner. You have to be closing, right?”

  Francine spun around to glare at Zyah. “That’s just great. You have two dates.”

  “I’m going to dinner with you, Francine,” Zyah reminded. She was so tired she wanted to curl up on the floor and go to sleep right there. “Hand me your car keys. I’ll drive.”

  “Fuck you, I’m not giving you my car keys. And I’m not going to dinner with you. You can go with Player and Perry.” Francine stuck her chin in the air.

  “I’m going home,” Zyah said, “but you’re not driving. Hand me the keys.” She kept her voice even and quiet, knowing the battle was going to escalate now. Francine hadn’t gotten her way. She was certain both Player and Perry were after Zyah. She was going to be as destructive as possible. “Perry, if you’re looking for a dinner date, Francine is so gorgeous tonight. We were going out together, but I’m so tired I can’t keep my eyes open.”

  Perry’s insolent gaze, as it ran up and down Francine, set Zyah’s teeth on edge. “You do look amazing, Francine,” he agreed. “But I want a sure thing tonight. Seriously. The last time we went out, you bailed on me at the last minute. That wasn’t cool.”

  Zyah could hardly believe what she’d just heard. She wanted to throw something at his head. Perry was an arrogant little ass.

  “That wasn’t my fault, and you know it, Perry. I got sick. I was sick.” Francine sounded like a child defending herself.

  Zyah was instantly angry, something very rare for her. She leaned across the counter. “You have my phone number, Francine. You have the right to say no to anyone at any time for any reason. You call me and I’ll come get you. Perry, you continue to amaze me with just how disgusting you truly can be.”

  “You still living with your parents, Perry?” Francine asked. “Because I’m living with my grandmother.” Francine pulled her phone out and was texting. “I’m just letting her know I’ll be late. Maybe you should tell your parents you’ll be out most of the night—or all night.” She sounded seductive.

  Perry grinned at her. “I have my own house on the property. I don’t stay in the main house with them. They would make me crazy. They whine at me.” He switched his attention to Zyah. “I’m beginning to give up on you, babe. Francine may be right. You could be a prude. We could have had fun. Come on, Francine. Let’s go.”

  “I’ll meet you there.” Francine glared at Zyah defiantly.

  Zyah sighed. She was so tired she wanted to yell at both of them to just get out. “Hand over the car keys, Francine. I mean it. You’ve had too much to drink and your license was yanked for DUI already. You’ve got no business driving.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Francine taunted.

  Behind Perry and Francine, Destroyer and Keys emerged from the center aisle, almost as if they were ghosts. There was no sound, they just suddenly were there. Two very intimidating men.

  “Give her the keys,” Destroyer said, his voice low and harsh. “Do it now.”

  Francine whirled around so fast she nearly fell. Perry backed toward the door, his fingers closing convulsively around his sunglasses. “Give her the keys, Francine, and let’s go,” he said.

  Francine fished in her purse, found the keys and flung them at Zyah. Hard. The keys struck Zyah just above her left breast, stinging her. Looking smug, giggling with satisfaction, Francine hurried to follow Perry out of the store as Zyah put her hand over the keys to keep them from falling to the floor.

  “You all right?” Keys asked.

  Zyah blinked back tears, turning to watch as Francine walked toward Perry’s low-slung vehicle. She turned away more so that neither man could see she was emotional than for any other reason. She really didn’t care to see that Perry didn’t even bother to open the door for Francine. She already knew he was a first-class jerk. Francine could barely stand on her own, and when she bent to get into the car, she nearly crawled inside.
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br />   “Yeah, I’m just really tired. I want to go home and take a hot bath and go to bed.”

  “We don’t do that shit, you know. None of us,” Keys said, his voice very quiet.

  Zyah turned back to him because he was very sober. Very sincere. Whatever he was trying to convey was important. And he was being truthful.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “We don’t make bets like that bitch was telling you. That’s not how Player got his name. She was making shit up. We aren’t like that.”

  She flashed him a wan smile. “I’m well aware she is totally full of shit, Keys.” Because she’d been in Player’s mind too many times. She had no idea how he got his name, but she did know it wasn’t the way Francine had told her he had.

  “Come on, kid, get your shoes on and let’s get the hell out of this place. Cash out. We’ll do the rest.”

  “I can’t leave Lizz’s car here. I’ll drive it to her house. I’ll need a ride home after. I’d walk, but I’m too tired tonight.”

  Keys and Destroyer exchanged a long look. Destroyer shrugged. “No worries, we’re following you anyway.”

  “I never thought I’d be driving a pink Cadillac,” Zyah said as she went back to work.

  “Better you than me,” Keys muttered under his breath. “For a minute there, I was sweatin’ it.”

  Destroyer raised an eyebrow. “I was looking forward to it. Kind of thought I’d look cool. Thought maybe I’d ask the old lady if she needed someone to take it around the block once in a while.”

  Zyah burst out laughing. “You’re kind of crazy.”

  “Yeah, you got that right,” Keys said, but he flashed a small, appreciative smile at Destroyer. The two went about putting things away and locking up while she cashed out completely, taking the money to the back. Ordinarily, she might have put it in the heavy vault, but since the robberies, the money was turned over to her Torpedo Ink escorts, so she was never responsible for it. In the morning, they brought the money needed for start-up.