BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset)

by Parker, Kylee

  “Yes.”

  “Keep it pointed at the three of them while I check the other rooms.”

  Ricky took a slow seat, his eyes pinned on Sinclair. The man on the floor didn’t get up, but he glanced upward at her curiously.

  “I told you he wasn’t here.” Ricky sneered. “You always were a dumb bitch.”

  Sinclair lifted one shoulder. “Now I’m a dumb bitch with a gun. Sucks to be you, I guess.”

  Both seated men looked at each other nervously as Niall could be heard opening closets and moving things.

  “Did he tell you where he was going?”

  “Maybe.”

  The man with the bong set it on the floor at his feet, and pushed Ricky in the shoulder.

  “She has a gun! Tell her what you know, dumbass!”

  Ricky sighed and pushed his greasy hair from his face. “He said he was headed home to regroup. He said he had something valuable…but he wasn’t sure what it was and he needed to find out.”

  “Something he took from Enrique Arrays?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He took money from Enrique.”

  Ricky nodded, the glint in his eyes telling of how much he enjoyed having the upper hand.

  “He took money, sure, but he has something else too.”

  “What?”

  “He wouldn’t show us. He said it was some kind of voodoo stuff.”

  Niall walked silently back into the room. “Think hard.”

  Ricky looked at Niall with spiteful glare. “I should call the cops for you breaking and entering!”

  “How do you know I’m not a cop?” Niall squatted on the floor, the movement sudden yet graceful. Ricky didn’t like it one bit. It was unnerving.

  “Well…”

  “Well, you should tell us everything you know, and maybe I’ll let the half pound of weed and the numerous baggies of pills slide…this one time.”

  The two men looked at Ricky pleadingly. It was obvious he was their leader of sorts. Sinclair thought it odd. Joseph had always been the ring leader of that particular circus. The man on the floor rose slowly, and sat Indian style with his hands in full view.

  “Tell them!” The man on the couch hissed.

  “So…he didn’t come back here until a couple weeks after she was arrested. He was babbling about not getting as much cash as he had wanted, but he had something in a velvet baggie thing.”

  “How big was the bag?”

  “Ever seen a Crown Royal bag?”

  Niall nodded. He had seen the expensive whiskey, but had never splurged to buy it.

  “Ok, well it was maybe half the size of one of those, and it was this weird dark green color…sometimes…sometimes not. It was like trick paint, but it was velvet.”

  “I wanted him to get rid of it.” The man on the floor spoke. His accent was thick.

  “Why?” Niall asked.

  The man shrugged. “Once he walked in with it, it was like a presence came with him.”

  “A presence.” Niall said doubtfully.

  The man nodded, eyes wide. Sinclair wasn’t sure who he was. The two on the couch had been permanent fixtures at the apartment. Ricky and Sam, or as Sinclair liked to refer to them: Frick and Frack. Fraternal twin brothers who were physical opposites. Ricky, thin and reedy with auburn hair and brown eyes. Sam could have been any young man in any location, light brown hair with blue eyes, and the larger physique of one who maybe wrestled or played football. Ricky had treated her horribly when she visited, but Sam had been indifferent, and at times borderline polite. As for any others she may have met, it was a revolving door in and out of the apartment.

  The man on the floor nodded. “Yes, a presence, like something unseen followed him in, but it was in the bag. I told him it was evil, whatever it was, and he should get rid of it.”

  The Lord of the Rings movie flashed through Sinclair’s mind. Which was it? The second? Third? Either way, it was the little creature called Golem, he was screaming about a ring, calling it his precious.

  “Why wouldn’t he show it to you?”

  “I think he knew it was evil.” The man replied, his eyes dark and large.

  “Bull shit!” Ricky spat. “It was probably some swank jewel and he was afraid we would steal it!”

  Niall looked at him steadily. “You and Mr. Overman were friends?”

  “Best buds.” He snickered.

  “You’re in the habit of stealing from your friends then?”

  Ricky’s face slowly melted into a scowl.

  Niall turned his attention to Sam. “Where do you think he went?”

  “Home.”

  “Where is that? Here in Palm Beach?”

  Sam shook his head and yelped as Ricky elbowed him a warning in the ribs.

  “Knock it off!” He returned his look to Niall, a new purpose in his eyes. “We honestly don’t have an address, but home for Joseph is in Louisiana.”

  Sinclair swallowed. Louisiana? He never told me…

  “Louisiana is a big state. I need you to be a little more specific.”

  “New Orleans.” Sam’s voice was firm.

  Niall nodded and stood. “Thanks.”

  He walked to the door and motioned for Sinclair to follow. Ricky’s voice called after her, stopping her dead in her tracks.

  “You weren’t his only bitch. You were just the one willing to do more than hit the sheets.”

  Niall looked back at Sinclair, but her face was unreadable. She closed the door and went silently ahead of Niall to the truck.

  Niall tossed a pillow and blanket into his couch and sighed, running both hands over his face. He put his hands on his hips and went to the large window that over looked the street below. A glimpse of the ocean could be seen during the day, but at night it was dependent on whether the moon reflected on the waters.

  Sinclair had fronted bravely. It had been disquieting to see her wiping tears from her face as they went back to his apartment, but he had given her credit where credit was due, she had talked to him; although she kept her leaky face turned. He had pretended to not notice the streaked mascara and makeup when they arrived back.

  Sinclair cleared her throat. Niall turned and was shocked by what he saw. Her face was freshly washed and her hair tied back with a white bandana. She stood primly with her hands clasped in front of her satin looking baby pink pajamas. She didn’t have on a bit of makeup, and she was beautiful.

  “Yes?”

  “I was curious how you planned to ensure I didn’t escape in the night.”

  Niall was taken aback. Why would she ask him, if she were planning it?

  “For starters, I have this.” He walked to the door and pushed some numbers on an alarm key pad by the door. “If you open the door without disarming it, the alarm will go off.”

  “Right. Good night, Niall.”

  Niall watched her walk into his bedroom. He stood in the same spot for several minutes. Why did she get under his skin? It wasn’t irritation. She as a mystery, like a cake of many flavored layers, but you won’t know what the flavors are until you taste it.

  Niall turned the lights off and laid on the couch with an arm supporting his head. When was the last time he had been in a relationship? Three…no four years ago. The girl had been blonde and rail thin with wide surprised looking blue eyes. He thought he loved her and she him, but his biggest secret, once revealed, had just been too much for her.

  “I’m a shifter.”

  “A what?”

  “A shifter. I can become an animal.”

  Her laughter had been nervous and raw.

  “So, when you disappear at night it’s because you’ve changed into an animal?”

  Niall’s still face was all the answer she needed. She picked up her purse and backed towards the door.

  “What are you a werewolf?” Again the nervous laughter.

  “Tiger.”

  The laughter died.

  “You’re such a liar.” Her eyes spoke the truth. She was terrified. />
  “No.”

  “I need to go.”

  “Trish…” He had only reached for her halfheartedly.

  She waved her hand, her perky mask already back in place, her body already squeezed partly through the door.

  “No, it’s fine. I get it.” She flashed her perfect smile. The one that had cost her parents a small fortune. “Look, don’t call for a while, ok?”

  And he hadn’t…ever again.

  Niall wondered about Sinclair. She seemed smart. She was definitely pretty. How does a woman like that end up with a man like Joseph Overman? Maybe it was insecurity over her weight. He hoped when this was all over, she would have learned a valuable lesson.

  Sinclair yawned as they entered the airport. She had spent the night dozing only, and was bone weary, she had been looking forward to sleeping in Niall’s Suburban for the eleven or twelve hour drive into New Orleans. But no…he woke her at 6:30 and told her to get ready.

  The call to Tina had been tearful and full of screeched warnings and portents of evil. The call to her job had been worse. Eight months as a waitress there without missing a day, and they had fired her on the spot. Oh well, it wasn’t like she was getting rich there. Niall had been kind enough to give her three hundred dollars from the wad Enrique had given him.

  “You might need it.” She had protested.

  “You might too.” He had replied sharply. His growing concern and attachment to her was beginning to worry him. He couldn’t effectively do what needed to be done on this job if he had any kind of emotional attachment, and besides that, he didn’t even know her!

  “How long will the flight take?”

  “About four hours.”

  Sinclair was pleased to hear that. A good stiff drink then Z’s for her.

  Niall tried to work the circulation back into his arm. Sinclair had been leaning into it sleeping for over an hour. One strong snore escaped her parted lips, and he nudged her until she awoke. He stared blankly at the elderly woman across the aisle as she tried to smile at them. She probably thought they were a couple.

  Sinclair wiped at her mouth and sat up. “Oh God, was I snoring?”

  “Just beginning.”

  “Ugh”

  “I snore too.” The old woman leaned across the aisle and confided with a pink smile. “Used to drive my husband crazy!”

  Niall doubted that was all that drove her husband crazy.

  “What are you making? It’s pretty.” Sinclair said, looking at the multi colored bundle in the woman’s lap.

  “Oh, it’s a scarf for my granddaughter.”

  Sinclair touched the edge and smiled wistfully. “I once tried to crochet, but I didn’t have anyone to really teach me.”

  The old woman’s eyes grew large. “No one to teach you? How were you trying to learn then?”

  “I had my mother buy me a skein of yarn and a hook. I checked a book out from the library, but I just couldn’t quite get it.”

  “Of course not!” She laughed, but not unkindly. She reached into the bag at her feet and pulled out another crochet hook and a brand new skein of black yarn.

  Niall watched with fascination as the woman, whom he now knew as Margaret, showed Sinclair how to do something called a chain and then something else called a double crochet. It made him smile to see Sinclair so excited about such an arcane craft. They worked together for an hour and a half.

  The woman scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Sinclair. It was a crude drawing of the stitch in case she forgot, and Niall was shocked to see the woman’s phone number there as well. She was a little too trusting. When Sinclair gleefully wrote her cell number down for the woman, Niall shook his head and rolled his eyes.

  “What?” Sinclair whispered.

  “You don’t just give a stranger your number!”

  “How are they supposed to become not a stranger then?” She hissed back, nose to nose with him.

  Maybe it was the way her perfume mingled with her clear night smell, maybe it was the fact that the seatbelt light came on and he was glad the flight was over; whatever the reason, he slid his face in the inch of space left between them and tasted Sinclair Makenzie’s lips. She didn’t slap him, or make an ugly face; she simply blinked and stared into his dark eyes. The green of her iris darkened slightly, and Niall had the queasy feeling that his life was about to irrevocably change.

  He dared a glance at Margaret and saw her knowing smile and wink of the eye.

  Oh my God.

  “Alright, Sinclair, pick a vehicle.”

  Sinclair looked doubtfully at the line of cars and trucks. She had no idea why he wanted her to pick the vehicle they would be cruising around New Orleans in, but since she was picking, and he was paying, she was going to pick a good one. She walked slowly looking at each one carefully, stopping with a sly smile over the shoulder at Niall.

  “This one.”

  Niall grinned back. She had good taste. 2013 Ford Mustang. Midnight blue with white racing stripes on the hood, trunk, and roof. It would cost a fortune, but yes, she had good taste indeed. He could forgive her for taking pictures with the camera in her phone of everything they passed in the airport, from the Louie Armstrong statue playing his horn, to the flying bronze replica of Icarus. He hoped she would stop acting like a tourist, but then again maybe it would be the best cover.

  Once they had their bags in the trunk, they roared onto Airport Rd, and followed it to Rt. 10. It would take them into the heart of New Orleans. Niall was exceedingly glad they were past the time for Mardi gras and before the time for the real spring break. Although a break from Palm Beach during Spring Break might be a good thing. Now all they needed was a lead for Joseph Overman’s where about.

  Sinclair put her window down and stuck her head out the window allowing the warm sunshine to bask her closed eyes. When she pulled her head back in, wisps of hair had come loose from her up do, and framed her face. Niall wished she hadn’t worn so much makeup.

  “Why did you kiss me on the plane?”

  Niall shifted his hips uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

  Sinclair seemed to accept his response.

  “I really don’t know how I’m supposed to help you. I didn’t even know he was from here. He told me he grew up in Palm Beach.”

  “When we find him, and make no mistake we will find him, you will be able to get a lot closer to him than I will.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “How did you meet him anyway?”

  “It was dumb.” She fiddled with the strap of her purse, a light blush staining her cheeks.

  “Indulge me.”

  “Online…dating website.”

  Niall looked at her strangely. “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “I mean…you’re pretty. Why did you think you needed a dating website to meet men?”

  She shrugged and put her purse in the floorboard. “I don’t know. Men…are…they don’t know what to do with me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean look at me. I’m overweight, I wear a lot of makeup and sometimes dress odd, and sometimes my personality is too strong for most men.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I guess they want an airhead who doesn’t like to think for herself.”

  Niall knew the type. Jerry for one was a perfect example. He was usually a sloppy mess, but he wanted a woman who was not only beautiful, but had a model’s body, and no brains in her head.

  “Yeah, some men are dumb like that.”

  Sinclair looked at him for several seconds. “What about you? Do you have someone?”

  “Nah. Not right now. Haven’t for a while actually.”

  “Why not?”

  Now how do I answer that? “Last relationship didn’t work out, and I’m busy with work anyway.”

  “Oh. Well, what would you like in a woman?”

  Niall glanced at her. Her expression was innocent enough. Maybe she was just making conversation.
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br />   “For starters, I would want an independent woman who could think for herself.”

  “You don’t care about looks?”

  “Care more about what’s in here and in here.” He tapped his chest and forehead. “Alright. So, give me your best guess as to where he might go, if he didn’t truly go to a family member’s house.”

  “Well, He probably would go to a lower end neighborhood. This strange thing he stole from Enrique…he might want to try and sell that first, if he hasn’t already.”

  “If, and I’m not saying that I believe the whole presence thing that guy was talking about, but if Joseph thinks it has properties like that, he may try to find out more about it. That means we should start in the French Quarter.”

  “Why there?”

  “It’s the heart of New Orleans Voodoo.”

  “Voodoo? Are you mad?” Sinclair could feel her eyes straining against her eye sockets. “Why would you think something that Enrique Arrays would have anything to do with that?”

  “I don’t, but we need a starting point and Joseph would have too. Hopefully it will be the same area.”

  Niall took the exit where Rt. 10 branched off. He stayed on Rt. 10 hoping it would lead them into the French Quarter.

  “Maybe we can see Bourbon Street. I’ve always wondered what the big deal was about it.” She looked at the dash board display and frowned with a pouty pucker to her lips. “I thought all newer cars had a built in GPS?”

  “No, not all.” He handed her his cell phone. “I have one on my phone, but you can pull up Google. See if you can pull up a map of New Orleans.”

  Sinclair took the phone slowly. This man was a bounty hunter, and who knew what else, and probably had important things like test messages or numbers on his phone, maybe even pictures of criminals, and he had just handed it to her and told her to use it. She had once picked up Joseph’s phone, because she had forgotten hers at home, and he had gone nearly stark raving mad; ranting about privacy, and just what did she think she was doing?

  “You going to look it up?”

  Sinclair came back from her thoughts and opened the internet browser on his phone. She slid her finger on the phone several times, and finally said, “It looks like we can take Esplanade Ave off of Rt. 10. That’s the outer edge, and we can access the quarter by numerous streets.” She grinned at him. “Including Bourbon Street.”