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Dietz flopped on the ground. Probably wet himself. Jimmer removed the gun from Dietz’s neck. “Get up. Rush me, or try to take off, and I’ll tell Martinez you were friendly with her. He’ll slice off your shriveled cock before he feeds it to you.”
Yikes.
Jimmer led me aside. “So now you know.”
“But I don’t know why.”
“Why? Why are you fuckin’ surprised, Julie? You know what he’s like.”
I turned away. Yeah, I knew what Tony was like, probably better than anyone, but something else was going on.
Martinez never pulled that I’m-the-big-bad-assbiker-bossman-do-what-the-fuck-I-tell-you bullshit with me. He didn’t treat me like property. Ever. Maybe he let the Hombres members believe he lorded over me, especially since I never voiced my opinion to him or any other Hombres member in public. I didn’t give a shit what his brothers assumed about me or us; I knew the truth and that’s what mattered.
Jimmer slung his arm over my shoulder and lowered his voice. “The arrogant bastard is so crazy fucking in love with you he’ll do anything to keep you safe, little missy. Is that so bad?”
“No.”
“So forget it.”
“That’s the thing. I can’t.” Would my reasoning sound fucked up and petty and … female?
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“What? Why not?”
“I warned Martinez if he ever sicced his goons on me again without warning I’d retaliate.” My glance at Jimmer was a silent plea for him to understand. “If I don’t follow through, it’ll look like I pussed out, not only to Tony, but to his security team. I don’t wanna be seen as the type of whiny-assed woman who makes idle threats.”
“Yeah? What’d you threaten to do?”
“Shoot up the next car he sent after me.”
After about a ten-second pause, he handed me the shotgun. “Go for it.”
“Seriously?”
“Gotta stand on principle. Or as Martinez is fond of saying: gotta have rules or chaos rules.” He yelled at Dietz. “Whose rice burner is that?”
“Belongs to the club.”
Jimmer grinned. “Perfect.”
It was. I slapped the Sig in his palm, lifted the 870, and took aim.
Dietz scrambled back. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Proving a point.” I squinted. “I don’t wanna blow it up. Where should I put the first one?”
“Gas tank is back half of the driver’s side. How
’bout takin’ out the side window?”
“Sweet.” I braced the buttstock inside the ball of my right shoulder, locked my knees against the kickback, and pulled the trigger. 248
Crack. Glass shattered. My ears rang. I wandered around to the right side and shot out the other back window to keep things symmetrical. Put a bullet in the front right quarter panel, reloaded three more shells, put another in the left front quarter panel, and two in the tailgate.
Jimmer didn’t say a word when I swapped the
shotgun for my 9mm and continued shooting.
I destroyed the headlights. And taillights. And fog lights. Eying the driver’s side, I considered marking it with the letter J, but ultimately settled for H on both doors.
“Nice touch,” Jimmer said.
“Thanks. Think he’ll be pissed?”
“Oh, yeah. But I know that’s how you like him best.”
I grinned.
Jimmer motioned Dietz over. “I’m keepin’ the gun. You tell Mr. Martinez I’ll be in touch.”
“That’s it?”
“You want some more of me, boy?”
“No.”
“Then get yo ass goin’. Ya got plenty o’ other shit to worry about besides who I’m havin’ pie with.”
Dietz zoomed off. Jesus. He’d be damn lucky if he didn’t get pulled over by the highway patrol before he made it back to Rapid.
Not my concern.
I returned to my truck. Jimmer gave me a push 249
to get the back end out of the ditch. He scowled at the snow-covered junk poking out of the truck bed.
“Don’t you ever clean this shit out?”
“Never know when you might need something
like a—”
“—pink emergency makeup case?” he asked snidely.
“No, a crowbar, a log chain, and bullwhip for smartass men who get out of line with me.”
“You ain’t half as scary as you pretend to be.”
“Wanna hear something really scary?” I belted out the chorus to Cherry Pie by Warrant. Jimmer laughed until tears rolled down his face. Then he followed me to the Road Kill Café for a slice of the real thing.
250
The lunch rush was over and we were the only ones in the joint.
Jimmer wolfed his pie. He’d started with cherry, eaten a slice of apple, and finished with blueberry. Red, American, and blue, baby; the man even ate patriotically.
I smoked, filling him in on all the not-so-fun stuff in my life. “So, Dad’s not talking to me—nothing new—but I guess he’s not talking to Trish either.” I sipped my coffee. “What’s your take?”
“Doug’s a mean bastard. The hired guy pissed him off, he lost his temper and killed him.” Jimmer shrugged. “Probably didn’t mean to. Hid the body thinking it wouldn’t be found for a coupla months. Then his ace detective daughter accidentally uncovers it and fucks all his plans nine ways ’til Sunday.”
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“Great.”
Jimmer shoved the empty plate to the edge of the table. “So Kevin’s found a new fuck buddy?”
“I wish. I suspect sweet thang is more than just a fling.”
“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”
“Because Kev’s being reckless, which is very unKevin-like, Jimmer. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking of breaking some business rules to make her happy.”
“No shit?”
“If that happens he and I are gonna have some bigass problems.”
“As far as the business is concerned? Or personally?”
I scowled at him. “What do you think?”
“You jealous of this baby chicklet, little missy?”
“No.”
“What’s she like?”
“Young. Pretty. Smart. Determined. A tall—”
“—blue-eyed blonde, strong-willed, yet with a hidden sweet side that makes the hardest men go all softhearted and protective?”
“Sounds like you already know her.”
Jimmer leaned closer. “No, Jules, she sounds exactly like you.”
That left me tongue-tied.
“Think on it. Give me a heads-up if it gets bad with Kev. I’ll try to knock some sense into him, okay?”
“Okay.”
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He slid out and ruffled my hair. “Gotta run. You need anything, and I mean anything, you call me.”
I smoked another cigarette, wondering when I’d hear from Martinez. My phone flashed and nearly vibrated off the table. Not him. Not yet, anyway.
“Hello?”
Trish said, “I need to talk to you. Can I come over right now?”
“I’m not home. I’m at the Road Kill Café.”
“Even better. Don’t leave. I’ll be right there.”
Trish was true to her word. She scooted across from me five minutes later. Misty automatically brought her a cup of coffee. Weird to think Trish was a regular here, too.
“The county slapped Doug with a Disturbing the Peace.”
“He’s lucky.”
“I don’t know what he was thinking. It was so unlike him. I’ve never known him to beat on someone for no apparent reason.”
My teeth sank into my tongue to keep from setting her straight. Then again, he had beat on me for no apparent reason, so her statement did have a bizarre ring of truth to it.
Trish sighed. “Everything is a mess. The kids are confused. I’m confused. Doug won’t talk to me or to our minister. There’s tons of work to be done and without a hi
red man, it’s twice as hard on him.”
“Is that your justification for thinking he didn’t 253
have anything to do with Melvin’s death? It would make extra work for him?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “No. He wouldn’t kill someone because it’s against—”
“If you throw a Commandment at me as your reasoning for his innocence, I will walk out that door.”
Her mouth shut.
Good. “Why was it so damn important for you to see me?”
“Because you have experience in this stuff.”
“Meaning that I associate with jailbirds and murderers?”
Trish’s back snapped straight. “Stop baiting me and quit being such a pain in the ass.”
Whoa.
“And give me a damn cigarette.” After she lit up, she sank back into the booth.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“I don’t. I used to. I used to do a lot of things.”
She squinted at me through the smoke. “What I meant before you so rudely jumped to the wrong conclusion, was that you have experience in investigative work. I want to hire you.”
Any time now Ashton Kutcher would jump out
because I was being Punk’d, I just knew it. Trish maintained a bland expression.
“No fucking way.”
“Doug is too proud to ask you for help.”
“He made it crystal clear he didn’t trust me and he 254
didn’t want my help.”
“But I do. I need your help.” She sucked in a mouthful of smoke and exhaled slowly. “Doug doesn’t have to know.”
“You want me to lie and sneak around?”
“Yep.”
“Even if that lying and sneaking around reveals Dad killed Canter?”
“He didn’t.”
I stared at her giving her, a chance to recant. She continued on, “I know you think the worst of him.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No. That’s why I’ve never pushed you to be part of his life. Which is why I’m confused you’re willingly spending time with Brittney.”
I shrugged.
“I’m not making excuses for his behavior, or offering explanations or apologies that aren’t mine to give. But you have no idea how much he regrets what he did to you after your mother was killed.”
I sparked a cigarette and realized one already smoldered in the ashtray.
“People lost in grief … everyone reacts differently. Some shut down. Some drink. Some become crusaders and some …” Trish’s hazel eyes sought mine.
“Some people lash out. With words or with—”
“—fists, or hangers, or whatever is handy?”
“Even that.”
255
“Bullshit.”
“Your mother’s death devastated him.”
“Please. He wasn’t the only one, but you didn’t see me whipping off my belt and using it on him to express my grief.”
“He would’ve taken attention of any kind from you, Julie.”
My mouth dropped open. “What the fuck are you babbling about?”
“Did you ever consider that he had no one to talk to? No clergyman. No extended family. You had Ben. And Kevin.”
She was a fool. Dad could’ve talked to me, but instead he let his fists do the talking. And it didn’t change the fact he’d started hitting me before Mom died, right around the time Ben showed up, so he had Trish completely fucking snowed. Jesus. How could she be so blind when it came to him?
“Every time he looked at you, he saw her, what he’d lost, and it was almost more than he could take.”
Again, if Dad loved my mother so much, and I reminded him of her, it made even less sense that he beat me.
“In all the years we’ve been married, I’ve never heard Doug speak her name. Not once.” She expelled a bitter snort. “The great love of his life and I didn’t know her name until I ran across their marriage certificate in the safe.”
I’d never considered that; I hadn’t heard her name 256
either, not since the day I’d seen him crying as he’d repeated it over and over in absolute agony. She’d been just Mom to me. But Dad called her … not her real name, Annika, but a nickname …
Anka.
My breath stalled.
A memory floated in, an image of my father, looking up when my mother entered the room, absolute adoration in his eyes. Tugging her onto his lap as she laughed. Him peppering her face with kisses, repeating, “My Anka, my sweet, sweet Anka.” Then more kissing and mommy/daddy stuff that made me flee the room with my crayons and coloring book.
How in the hell had I forgotten that?
Because you’ve blocked out the good and the bad memories. A sanctimonious voice countered: Yeah? Well, it’s his fault because the mean bastard sullied them all. Hello, Bipolar Disorder.
Trish continued, “Your middle name is after her?”
“A shortened version.” Childish, but I couldn’t stand to hear Trish say her name. Ever. “Look, we’re off track. What is it you want from me, Trish?”
“Help in figuring out what is going on.”
“And if I don’t want to help?”
“You will.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You’re not as coldhearted as you want me and everyone else to believe.”
I squirmed. She was wrong. What would it take 257
to prove I really wasn’t like everyone else? Or anyone she knew? That I always followed my own agenda, be it good or bad?
The bell above the front door jangled and for some reason I looked up and saw Tony amble in.
Speaking of bad … how had he found me so fast?
Jimmer. That rat bastard. Last time I’d buy him pie. Screw Martinez if he thought I’d cower in the corner like a Chihuahua. I kept my eyes on his and a brittle smile on my lips.
He said, “Hey, baby doll, scoot over.” Once he’d invaded my space, he kissed me. Not a sweet little peck; a real tonsil scratcher. Then he bestowed a dazzling grin upon Trish. “You must be Brittney’s mother.”
She was absolutely poleaxed. “Ah, yeah.”
“I’m Tony.”
“Ah. Hi. Tony.”
Misty plodded over with a cup. “Mr. Martinez!
Nice to see you again.”
“Good to be here, Misty. Just coffee today, thanks.”
All three hundred pounds of Misty floated off in the glow of Martinez’s megawatt smile.
Jerk.
Trish was staring at him. Half-drooling, really, which pissed me off.
Finally, she managed a small measure of composure. 258
“So, you know Brittney?”
“Heckuva card player. She’s kicked my butt in Crazy Eights a time or two when she’s been at our place.”
“Our place?” Trish repeated.
“Technically it’s Julie’s house, but I’m always there.”
I bit back my retort, not lately, when Tony squeezed my thigh under the table as a warning.
“Oh. I didn’t know you lived together.”
“Really? We’ve been together for what? Almost nine months?”
“Eight.”
“Time flies in a vacuum, doesn’t it? Pass me the sweetener, would ya, sugar?”
Sugar?
Martinez doctored his coffee, chatting with Trish like it was old home week. “Julie’s been reluctant to introduce the rest of her family. Which is unfair since my brothers know all about her and every crazy thing she does. She’s a real pistol.”
Oh, fuck.
Trish said, “Maybe you’d like to come over for dinner sometime?”
No no no.
“Pick the day and I guarantee we’ll be there, won’t we?”
He’d have to kill me first. And then drag my body behind his Harley.
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Trish slipped out of the booth and zipped her parka. “Nice to meet you, Tony. I’ll be in touch soon, Julie. Thanks.”
Before Trish was out the door I hissed, “Sugar?
Move your smarmy ass out of my way, Martinez, before I kick it.”
“Not on your fucking life, blondie. You and I are gonna have a little chat.”
“Yes, I will accept your apology along with a really expensive gift.”
“Wrong. I had an interesting morning.”
“Bully for you. Mine was the usual.”
“Shooting the fuck out of stuff isn’t the usual even for you.”
“No, I meant the usual, I woke up alone again.”
“Not touching the ‘alone’ comment, because technically, you weren’t supposed to be alone.”
“Technically if you aren’t in our bed or our place I am alone, so try again, bucko.”
He muttered something in Spanish.
“English.”
“Fine. Let’s start when Dietz calls PT and says he’s blown the surveillance on you on the first fucking day. Then PT calls me, suggesting I haul ass to the clubhouse.
“So, Dietz rolls up in the bullet-riddled Toyota, and throws himself at my feet, begging for mercy, blubbering about my psycho old lady and your equally psycho sidekick. Meantime, my entire fucking security 260
team is practically rolling on the ground laughing, laughing at what you’ve done to the goddamn car.”
“Were you laughing?”
“No. Not then. Not now.”
Damn.
“Your safety isn’t something I joke about. Ever.”
“Then you shouldn’t have sent a dumb ass like Dietz to follow me. Besides, I warned you what I’d do if you sent spies after me again.”
“And now, all the Hombres know you’ll follow through on your threats. Not a bad way to get your point across. But that doesn’t change the basic fact—”
“—that you sent someone to protect me and you still won’t tell me why I need protection?”
Silent tough guy moment.
“Am I in danger?”
“You wouldn’t be if you’d let me protect you.”
“From what?”
Another no answer moment to add to the others.
“I don’t need your protection. I can take care of myself.”
We still hadn’t made eye contact.
I’d done nothing wrong, and yet, I knew I’d crack first. My fingers twisted in the chain of my necklace.
“It wasn’t my intention to make problems for you in front of your brothers.”
“Problems? Now the main problem is those
brothers—mostly members of my security team—have 261
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