by J. L. Drake
“Just an old drive-in theater. There’s a building in the back. Maybe he’s squatting there?”
I popped my neck, weighing the odds of whether this was a trap.
“Look, I have eyes everywhere. If they said they saw him, I believe them.” Morgan stood while we all sat. I knew he trusted his men, but I didn’t. I caught Brick’s eye, and he shrugged, but I could tell he wanted to follow this lead.
“Vote,” I ordered.
“Aye.” Morgan started us off and raised his hand.
“Aye.” Cray nodded.
Gus started to cough from his joint but managed to squeak out, “Aye.”
“Aye. This shit needs to end.” Brick checked his phone before he tucked it away.
My eyes hurt as the demons within weighed in their vote.
“Just us, and bring the rifles. We leave at dark.”
Morgan waited until the rest of the guys left before he rolled the map and put it away.
“I need Peggy out from behind the bar,” he muttered as he turned to look at me. “She can’t pour for shit, she’s leaving to fuck whoever during her shift, and God forbid she counts to twenty.”
I leaned back, not needing that right now, but I knew his frustrations were legit. Peggy was a fucking train wreck.
“Who do you want?”
“Tess,” he blurted and sucked his lips inward.
A burn ripped over my skin, and I relished it. Pain was good for the body, kept you sharp. What her name did to my head was a different story.
“I have someone I can bring in for a while,” he said, not fazed by my look. “My friend’s cousin used to work in that shithole by the beach. If he could work there, he could work here.”
“Fuck Tess. She’s gone. No outsiders. Speak to Cray, see who he can send over.” I was pissed. I had never needed a damn bitch to care about, and now look what the hell it was doing to my head. Just the sound of her name set me on fire.
He nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t happy about it.
The nights were cooler, and the days were shorter now that it was November. Our hoodies covered our skin, the rags hid our faces, and the reaper rode bitch on our backs.
I tapped the button on my helmet and filled the dead night with “Psychosocial” by Slipknot. I needed something to calm the chatter.
A thick thrill seemed to hover in the air. It sent tiny shocks into my skin that absorbed into my bloodstream and set my senses to overdrive.
I pointed to the turnoff, and our headlights lit the driveway as we swung in off the main road. We stopped a few yards back behind an old bus.
We moved swiftly in pairs across the property to the only door on our side.
“This feels a little too familiar.” Next to me, Brick checked the clip of his 9mm. “Ready?”
I scanned the guys to make sure we were good to go. Big Joe was further back and would stay outside to text if we got company. I opened the door with my flashlight and stepped into the blacked-out warehouse.
The moment my boot landed and I felt the texture, I didn’t need to look down to know what it was. The smell hit second. Rotting flesh was something you only needed to experience once to have it permanently burned into your memory.
Rail gagged behind me but kept it together. Brick snickered something, and he shut up.
“What’s the noise?” Morgan whispered as he came up to my side. “Pipe leaking?”
I tuned out the guys and moved forward, my light scanning at waist height so as not to miss anything. There was a door ahead, partly open. I nodded to the guys that I was heading over, and they followed. I turned back once to count to make sure they were all with me. I didn’t trust this place, and the mole was playin’ hard on my mind. If one was going to show themselves, now would be the time.
The slime grew thicker as we approached. Our boots squashed with each step, alerting anyone around that we were there. All things my father would think of.
I pushed the door open, and my light played over the walls. I felt a deep chill enter the room.
“No,” Gus hissed when he saw one of his oldest friends hanging from the ceiling with barbed wire wrapped several times around his neck. The blood had drained from his body in sticky puddles. His hands were torn up, and a bone from his thumb was sticking out—all signs of a fight to the death.
A heavy wave of grief ran over us when we saw more of our San Diego crew strung up across the room like holiday lights. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. I stopped when I saw the seventh was different than the rest. I stepped closer and saw the tattoos.
Gator.
His lips were sewn shut with wire in an X, meaning he ran his mouth. Gator had brought the drugs to Palm Springs to test the zig-zagged product, and the result was Ty, my prospect, meeting the same fate. A brutal death. I shook my head, and rage started to take over my body.
“Seven,” I hissed at the men when they joined me.
“Eight,” Gus corrected. “They got the other runner too.”
My fingers were buzzing. The blood pumped to my arms, and the veins grew big and thick with it as the pressure increased under my skin.
He touched my family.
My phone lit up my pocket just as a door in the far corner opened and slammed shut.
Holy shit, we’re not alone.
Rail was the first to step forward when we heard three shots from outside.
“What the hell?” Morgan quickly raised his weapon to scan above us.
I turned my phone over to read what I thought was Big Joe’s warning.
Jace: I found Tess.
Suddenly, the lights flickered on, and there were at least thirty cops with laser beams pointed at our chests.
“Drop your weapons!”
Fuck me!
***
Everyone was separated and taken to the station in handcuffs. Big Joe had fled the scene before anyone saw him. He called our lawyer, who was now next to me and had just given me the same old speech about keeping my mouth shut. I had been through this enough times to know what to do—and what not to.
We sat in a room for four hours before we saw anyone else. The loss of my men sat heavy on me, but that three-word text from Jace hounded me the most. Was she okay?
“Sam.” I kept my head down. I knew we were being recorded. “I need my…” I made a gesture for my phone under the table.
That he was nervous around me had been made clear a few times before. I punched him in a bar once for mentioning information in front of a prospect. Sam was good, which was why he was still employed. “I can’t. They have it.”
“Get hold of Jace for me.”
He nodded and pulled out his phone and started to text. Just then, the door swung open, and in walked one of the biggest dicks I knew.
“Officer Doyle.” I leaned back in my chair and examined the douche-bag kid I grew up with. His sister was decent in bed, but she wanted more, and I didn’t. I thought Doyle was more upset about that than we were. “I hear you’ve been working a side job.”
His smile confirmed what I’d hoped was a lie.
“Well, now,” he pulled the chair out and held his tie back as he eased into the seat, “always fun seeing you with bracelets on.”
“Not for long.”
“We’ll see.” He opened the file in front of him and ran his finger along my rap sheet.
“My client didn’t do this,” Sam started. “There was no evidence that would suggest they were there during the actual murders, and let’s be frank, this is his crew. No reason to kill his own.”
“There’s always a reason when Trigger’s involved,” Doyle answered while still reading.
The door opened, and there was Sam’s hot assistant. She gave me a shy glance before she handed him an envelope.
Sam smiled as he pulled the photo out and slid it across the table. “As you can see, my clients were caught on camera coming out of the bike shop at the time of the murders.” He tapped the time stamp. “Now,” he stood and motioned for me to do the same,
“we are done here.”
“Actually,” Doyle squinted, “there is still a little problem with the shooting that happened only two minutes before we turned the lights on. Sit back down, Trigger. You’re in for a long night.”
“You don’t think my client shot that guy and raced back inside in time.”
“I don’t know anything at this point.” Doyle’s tone dropped. “So, sit back down until we do.”
I folded my arms. “Must feel good to finally have a little power in your life.”
“Trigger,” Sam warned as he settled into his seat again.
“You know what? It kind of does.” He smirked.
I calmed myself then glanced at the clock and wondered if Jace made it home yet.
“I want my phone call.”
Chapter Five
Tess
There were pros and cons to living in a house that never slept. There were always enough people to blend in with, but there were always people around. I waited for Rachel to be pulled away by my mother before I tapped on the keyboard to bring up my schedule. I was curious to know if Jace had booked any more sessions with me. I hit the arrow to slide through the month, only to find I was booked at least five times a week, but not with Jace. Disappointment rippled through me, but it only proved I needed to get the hell out of here fast. At least Venna was still booked for the stage, which meant I was.
I heard my mother’s voice and had just enough time to click out and turn down the hallway. I pressed my back against the valet wall and listened to learn if they noticed I was there.
“Take her off the books,” my mother snapped. “She’s a train wreck. We don’t need another Mags.”
My heart sped up. I hadn’t heard my best friend’s name mentioned in this house for so long. I inched closer to the corner.
“Do I pay her for the week?”
“She almost cost me our biggest client. I should be taking her pay.” She slammed her hand down on the desk. “Clear out her room, toss her shit in a cab, and get her off my property within the next six hours, or you’ll be looking for another job.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rachel started to type away on the keyboard.
“Where’s Clark?” I turned myself carefully so I could just barely peek around the corner.
“Um,” Rachel clicked on the cameras and studied each one, “he’s in the pool with Summer and Angela.”
“Of course he is.” She snickered and stormed off.
Damn, I hate that woman.
“Girl, are you asking for trouble?” Rachel was typing again, but I knew she was speaking to me.
I shamefully came around the corner with a shrug.
“You’re lucky I saw you on the feed before your mother did. Why are you creepin’ around?”
I ran my hand through my hair and wondered how safe it was to share with Rachel. I’d known her almost my whole life, but that wouldn’t mean much in this house.
“Just wanted to know who was being canned.”
“Dezzy. She took too much coke before her client came and nearly overdosed during a BJ. Dude almost lost his twig.”
Shit.
Her dark eyes narrowed in on me. “Why are you really here? Don’t lie to me. No one would have come back after what happened to you last time.”
“Money.” That was a fucking lie, but I wasn’t going to go there.
“Umm hmm,” she muttered. “I heard you were tangled up in some biker gang. That true?”
“What do you know about it?”
“I know Clark had some real shit-looking cops here dressed in plain clothes. They flashed their badges to get in. Once they got inside, Clark nearly took their heads off for coming to the house. Something about you and a biker gang. Once they talked to him for a bit, though, he cooled off, and they went into the bar. Right as they were leaving, they handed him something that looked like a computer stick, you know, one of those USB thingies. Then he went right into his office.”
“You hear a lot for working the desk, Rach.”
“You be surprised what goes down in this house, Tessa.” She gave me a strange look and went back to typing.
“Good to know,” I whispered then headed upstairs, but instead of going to my room, I went to Clark’s office. Now that I knew he was given something, I needed to find it and deal with this shit. I wouldn’t last much longer.
His office was locked, but I had picked up a few tricks while living on the streets. I used my keycard that allowed access to the viewing rooms and wiggled it past his sorry excuse for a lock. It only took a couple tries to get it open. With a look over my shoulder, I slipped inside and gently closed the door behind me.
I never liked his office. It had white walls with white furniture. How fucking bland could you get? I headed for the file cabinet first and thumbed through the tabs, but nothing really stood out. I did pull my file and placed it aside while I opened the next drawer.
“Come on!” I flipped through everyone who ever worked here since the nineties. For someone who had such a modern office, he certainly had an old-school filing system.
My stomach jerked when I saw her name written in red pen across the tab.
Mags Hurtle.
I flipped it open and leafed through her paperwork. Her family’s info, her health report, details of her pregnancy with Lily, the asshole baby-daddy’s info. I stopped when I came to the police report. A lot of it was blacked out, which was odd but not surprising. I shifted to lean against the desk when a DVD dropped to the floor and slid under his bookshelf.
Fuck.
Just as I bent to grab it, Clark’s phone rang. I jumped, shoving the file back into place.
“Jesus.” I tried to calm my nerves as I fingered the DVD out from underneath the bookshelf. I jammed it into the back of my corset.
With a frustrated sigh, I moved to his desk again. It was a simple desk with no drawers, just a table with four legs. I clicked on the keyboard, and his Mac screen flickered on. I closed my eyes, wondering how the shit I was going to navigate through this. I was used to Microsoft technology.
After four failed attempts at the password, I turned off the screen and looked elsewhere. If they handed him something, the proof should be here. I checked inside the few little containers on the desktop for a small USB, but had no luck.
Dumb yourself down, Tess, and think like Clark.
Think.
Think.
Think.
I saw his Monet panting on the wall and wondered if maybe he was that much of a cliché to hide a safe behind it. The frame was about an inch from the wall. My fingers moved along the bottom and tugged, but nothing.
Hmm.
Then I spotted a display box for his beloved rocks on the table under his bar shelf. I was five feet from it when I heard the familiar footsteps. I scanned the room, desperate to find a place to hide. His shit furniture provided zero cover, so I slipped into house mode.
“Tess?” Clark stopped when he saw me sitting in his chair in front of his desk. “What?” He looked over his shoulder then closed the door behind him. “What are you doing here? How the hell did you get in?”
I crossed my legs, which typically drew his gaze to my upper thigh. I dragged my fingers from my stomach, lingered at my chest, across my collarbone, and up to my ear to play with my earring. Clark was incredibly predictable when it came to the female body, so I used what I had.
“I want to ask you to talk to my mother about my schedule.”
He pulled the chair next to me around so he could face me head on. Crap. I noticed I hadn’t moved my own folder that I had pulled.
Mother of fucking Christ, Tess!
“You know that would be easier said than done with our history.” His hand fell on mine, and I felt like my skin was on fire. The urge to pull away was overwhelming. “Have you spoken to her about it at all?”
I saw my opportunity and used it.
“Yes, I just tried, which is why I was in here.” I waved my hand around but made sure to
stop at the file. “Why I ever thought she’d listen is beyond me.” I slowed my breathing to make my point. My free hand landed on his. “Clark, I can’t do this. It’s not who I am. I’ll dance, but to be a madam…I just can’t. Please.”
“Tessa,” he leaned closer, and I responded and leaned into him, “just let me have a taste, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Trigger’s face popped up in front of me, and I had to force myself not to pull away.
As Clark’s lips pressed to mine, so much resentment filled me I wondered at my ability to control myself. I thought hard about why I was here, forcing away the belief that it felt like cheating. God, I didn’t even know if I was really with Trigger.
“Clark,” I whispered and dropped my head.
“What?” He trapped my legs between his. “Just give in to me, Tessa.”
I jerked back and felt the fire lick through my veins. I shoved him away, jumped up, and darted to the door, but before I opened it, I turned to him as he stood.
“If you ever loved me at all, you will get me back on the stage, Clark.”
“I do love you, Tessa.”
“No.” I cut him off. “If you did, you would have let me go years ago, not played mind games with me, not hunted me down, and not destroyed lives along the way.”
His face dropped, and I could see he was conflicted but didn’t really get what I was saying.
“Tessa! What the hell?”
I slammed the door. Clark was so embedded under my skin it was hard on my emotions. He twisted them up and confused me. It was no wonder I was such a mess.
I heard footsteps and wondered if Rachel saw me on the camera and let my mother know I was here. I tried the door across the hall, but it was locked. Shit, I didn’t have time to pick it. I moved to the other, and thankfully, it opened. Closing the door to a small slit, I saw my mother swing open his door.
“Where is she?” she hissed at him. “Rachel said she saw her up here.”
“Calm down, calm down. She was here. She just wanted to discuss being put back on stage, and you know what, Felicia, I have to agree. It’s strange you’d even allow her to be a call girl. She’s your own daughter.”