I laughed, knowing just how much work Maria could be while pregnant. “What, this is like your fourth kid, right? Why don’t you leave the poor woman alone for a little while?”
“Me!?” Jonesie said, shocked. “That woman won’t leave me alone. If she doesn’t get her some, then I never know when she’ll attack me. It’s better I just give in and let her enjoy herself than fight it.”
“Must be such a hardship for you,” I teased.
“Just you wait. When you find the right guy and he locks you down, you’ll be feeling the hardship,” Jonsie said, winking at me.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my friend. No one man can lock this sweet ass down. Too much of a free spirit for that shit,” I said, leaving him to prep for his client.
“Ha! Then hell girl, get two or three. If anyone can handle that much man, it would be you!”
“Dax!” I heard Harper yell up the stairs. “I’m coming up, you better at least have a path to your bedroom for me!”
Rolling my eyes, I set down my paintbrush and turned down my music.
“In the art room!” I called back, waiting for my best friend to make her way to me.
I’ll admit that I wasn’t the cleanest person, but she always made it sound so much worse than it was. So what if I hated to put my laundry away and I had clean piles of it all over my bedroom floor? I knew what was clean and what was dirty, and isn’t that what really mattered? Not every part of my floor in our L.A. townhouse was messy. I kept my front living area clean… mostly because I didn’t really spend much time there, but hey—it counts.
I collected the brushes I was using and wrapped them in Saran wrap, not wanting them to dry out before I came back to finish. Grabbing a rag, I attempted to get the paint that wasn’t already dry off my hands.
“Holy shit, Dax,” Harper gasped when she walked into the room.
Smiling, I backed up and took a look at the piece before me. Even though it was unfinished, you could still see it was a man and woman wrapped in the throes of passion, unable to tell where one started and the other began.
“Girl, you are way too sexually frustrated if you are painting this shit. Good thing I can help you fix that,” Harper said, bumping me with her hip.
How Harper and I became friends was beyond me. If I hadn’t been forced to be her roommate freshman year, I don’t think we ever would have crossed paths. She was a fellow art student, but she was into fashion and everything feminine. Her long blonde hair was curled into soft waves with one side tucked behind her ear, showing off dangly earrings. Personally, I always told her she should have been the model for all the clothes she made instead of putting them on everyone else. Being a whole foot taller than me with the perfect size two body, it would have been a done deal.
“Please tell me you’re not gonna drag me to another model-infested club for one of your designer friends,” I groaned.
Harper linked arms with me and dragged me to my bedroom. “Not quite. This is a newer friend of mine that’s hosting a house party. She has an amazing beach house in Malibu, right off the PCH.”
I looked at Harper, really wanting to say no and just spend the night working on my painting. I hadn’t had inspiration in weeks, but after the meeting and argument with Wes, I was full of emotions. Seeing that I wasn’t sold on the idea, Harper pouted her glossy bottom lip, her eyes pleading.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll go, but if it sucks, I’m gonna leave your ass there,” I said, causing her to squeal and clap her hands.
“Okay, so knowing you as well as I do, I brought you something to wear,” she announced, pointing to the garment bag on my bed. “Now go shower and see if you can manage to find yourself under all that paint.”
“Don’t go organizing my room—you know I hate that shit,” I grumbled as I stomped off to the bathroom.
Scrubbing every inch of myself until I knew Harper would deem me clean, I toweled off and set to work on my hair and makeup. As an artist, doing makeup came naturally to me. I might not do it often, but I could create with some kick-ass looks when I wanted. Plus, I knew if I didn’t match up to Harper’s standards, I would be forced to wash it off and start over. I learned a long time ago to just do it right the first time if I didn’t want to be strapped down to a chair. Don’t get me wrong, in the right circumstance I wouldn’t mind being tied up—just not for makeup.
“How are things coming along?” Harper asked, poking her head into the bathroom.
“Almost done. Just finishing up with some mascara,” I answered, looking over my smoky eye that made my almond eyes look more dramatic.
“Here, use this lip color. It’ll complement the dress,” she offered, handing me a dark burgundy color. I hardly wore lipstick since my lips were already on the fuller side. I felt like it made me look like a Kim Kardashian wannabe, but Harper kept telling me that it wasn’t the same because mine were real.
Giving myself one final check, I headed to the bedroom to see what contraption Harper had designed for me to wear tonight. She loved all of my tattoos and tried to show them off as much as she could, so they often had unconventional designes.
I slipped on the dress, and I didn’t hate it as much as some of the others.
It was a deep plum color that set off the pale skin beneath my ink. The skirt went to mid-thigh, molding around my ass and making it look like I had more than I did. The back was completely open, and the front crisscrossed before meeting behind my neck in a halter, leaving a bare triangle of skin that started under my boobs and stretched to my waist. Not having to worry about having large boobs made outfits like this possible and worry free. A handful was all I had, and they were going to like it if they wanted to get lucky. Finishing off with some wax to style out my hair, I was ready.
Harper came to stand next to me in my full-length mirror, taking us in. Her silky emerald-green dress clung to her in all the right places, making it look more obscene than it was. Gold chains held it to her body around her neck and low back.
“Girl, we are going to break some hearts tonight!” Harper crowed.
Shaking my head, I slipped on my black studded heels, the only pair I owned. “Come on, let’s get going before I change my mind.”
“You want me to drive?” she offered.
“Hell no, I know better than that. You always seem to find someone to go home with. I want a ride out of there if I need it.”
“I don’t always find someone to go home with,” Harper mumbled.
Making it down the two flights of stairs, we reached the main level and found Wes in the kitchen cooking. My stomach grumbled at the smell of whatever masterful meal he was making himself. I wandered over to scope it out, and my mouth watered at the shrimp scampi. Reaching out, I made to steal a shrimp, but my hand was smacked with a wooden spoon.
“Fuck! What was that for, asshole?” I yelped.
“The shrimp isn’t fully cooked yet.” Wes smirked and added some lemon to the dish.
“Maybe next time we could use our words instead of lethal force, ya dick,” I grumbled.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be sticking your fingers in someone else’s dinner.” Setting down the spoon, he leaned back on the counter and took me in. “You’re going out?”
“You don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” Harper asked, batting her lashes at him. “I’m dragging Dax to a party at a friend’s place.”
She always flirted with Wes, even after all these years of rejection. I knew she didn’t really mean it, but who could resist a walking sex-on-a-stick like Weston?
When I bought this house and Wes moved in with me, we made a deal that we wouldn’t allow sleepover guests. It was our safe place, and neither of us wanted to fear intruding on the other… It could also be that I got insanely jealous when Wes was with a girl. I chalked it up to being overly protective of him. Other than being his best friend, I didn’t have any claim on him. Never once had we brought up being anything more.
“Dax is free to do what she wants. I’ve given up try
ing to stop her,” Wes said, turning his gaze to me. “Call me if you need me to come get you.”
Aww, Wes was just as protective of me as I was of him.
“Sure thing. We’re taking the Camaro.” I grinned, waving my goodbye as we headed out.
Not needing two cars with both Wes and I having bikes, we shared the matte black Camaro SS. Loving speed and danger, I of course had it tricked out. It looked lethal.
“You two act like an old married couple,” Harper said, smirking as we slid into the car.
I glared at her. She kept telling me I just needed to fuck him and end the tortured need between us, and I hated it. Weston was my family, the most important person in my life growing up besides my twin. After all these years, if it was meant to happen, then it would. Since it hadn’t, I was going to leave it alone. He was too important to lose over something as shallow as sex.
Harper connected her phone to the stereo and started blasting tunes, getting us in the mood to party. The drive was about an hour, but that was life in L.A. Traffic was a bitch, and people were assholes. It would have been so much faster on my bike—one of the main reasons I owned it—but Harper wasn’t a fan of motorcycles and refused to let me take her anywhere on it.
“We have two missions tonight,” Harper announced as the GPS told us we were almost there. “One is to get mama laid! It’s been two weeks since this cat got a good scratch, and she is feeling all kinds of frisky. The second is to see if you can have fun without pissing everyone off or starting a fight.”
“Do I get points if I do both?” I teased.
“I’m being serious here!” she said, punching me in the arm. “This girl has lots of high-end friends, and she could be a huge help in drumming up new business for my boutique. I don’t need my angry midget best friend fucking this up for me.”
“Then why did you bring me?!”
“Like I would ever go to a strange person’s house without you. Bitch, please—you’re my bodyguard tonight.” She laughed at my threatening glare, unfazed. “Kidding. You know I hate to go to these things with people I can’t rely on, and the fashion world isn’t exactly known for being trustworthy.”
I took a deep breath as we pulled into the large circle driveway and up to the valet stand. Leaving the car running, I took the ticket from the attendant and slipped it into my wristlet as I took in the house. The front didn’t look anything special or even worthy of being in Malibu, home of billion-dollar homes. For houses off the PCH, though, the street view wasn’t the front—no, the beachfront was where they made their money. Walking up to the Spanish villa-style front doors, we let ourselves in after checking in with security. Walking down a long, stone-tiled hallway, we entered the living area.
The Spanish style continued through the house, accented with a modern touch. The walls were white, and so was all the furniture, with splashes of color in soft coral. It was nothing I would ever live in—there was no life to it. Instead, it gave off the feeling of it being sterile and cold. Almost too perfect. The living room was filled with beautiful women in slinky dresses and men styled to perfection in the latest trend. I still didn’t understand why their pants couldn’t go all the way to their shoes. Their socks were not that interesting.
“Oh, I found her! Come on, let’s go say hello to the hostess,” Harper said, dragging me after her.
As we stepped out onto one of the balconies, I gasped at the view of the beach and ocean. The infinity pool on the edge of the patio made it look like you could swim right out into the moonlit waters.
“Harper, I’m so glad you could make it!” a woman—the hostess, I was guessing—said.
Unable to take my eyes off the view, I let Harper deal with the niceties.
“Thank you so much for the invite. It was so generous of you to think of me,” Harper babbled, putting on her business voice. “Please let me introduce my best friend, Dax Blackmore.”
Knowing I wasn’t going to be able to brush off this introduction, I turned and was shocked to see Gabriella Rossi, of all women, in front of me.
I paced my office, waiting for Gaby’s call to let me know how the meeting went. It had taken months of research, bribes, and breaking a few fingers to get a lead like this. We now had a line on Two Tricks’ enforcer, and in my personal opinion, his lover. I had to admit that it was impressive that it took so much work to get the name of anyone worth talking to in the Hidden Empire. The Phantom Saints were done getting looked down upon by a man who couldn’t even show his face.
From what we’d learned, everything was done through a third party who was picked out by Tricks. For a criminal, he sure had a lot of rules that his buyers and suppliers had to follow if they wanted to deal.
The office door opened, and three other people filed in and took seats around the room. I kept up my pacing, because if I couldn’t put this energy into something I was going to explode.
“Any word from Gaby yet?” Picasso asked, kicking his feet up on the desk.
Walking by, I smacked them off and growled. He knew I hated that shit. Just because we were blood didn’t mean he could disrespect what was mine. “Do I look like she’s called yet?”
“Fuck, Pres, you need to have a drink or something to chill the hell out,” Picasso grumbled.
I scanned the faces of the others in the room, seeing someone was missing. “Where’s Cognac?”
“He had some issues with the last transaction and went to deal with it personally,” Void answered, looking unhappy about it.
Stopping, I pinned him with a look. “Care to tell me why our treasurer is dealing with this and not my enforcer?”
“Seems that the situation needed a more ‘gentle’ approach. If I got too rough with him, then he wouldn’t deal with us again, and we wouldn’t have a way to transport our goods out of the state,” Void explained.
“What was the issue?” I asked, even though I had a guess.
“He wanted more money for having to go behind Tricks’ back,” Sprocket interjected, seeing that Void really didn’t want to answer my question. “Seems that something’s set the crime boss off, and he’s combing through his people looking for infractions. Word on the street is the enforcer is handling it personally.”
“This bastard is blocking us off at every turn!” I roared, slamming my fist into the wall, cracking it. “What bastard MC fucked this up for the rest of us? There’s no way we can gain any more ground without getting Tricks on our side or taking the dick out once and for all.”
Picasso’s phone rang out, breaking the tension in the room. He quickly answered and put it on speaker for the rest of us to hear. “Go ahead, Gaby. We can all hear you.”
“Enzo, when I tell you what happened, I need you to know I already have a backup plan ready,” Gaby said, her voice sharp in warning.
“Understood,” I bit out. Damn sister knew me too well.
“Using Kimber was a major backslide—the bitch lied to me. Dax hates her and doesn’t trust anything that has to do with her,” Gaby stated. “I left her my card and a copy of the terms that you guys came up with, but I’d be surprised if she didn’t throw it out the moment I left the building.”
“Is there any good news?” Picasso asked, reading my mind.
Gaby sighed. “Yes and no. Dax is definitely a good connection; she knows exactly how Tricks operates and thinks, so it wasn’t a complete bust. I invited her best friend to a party I’m having tonight. I want you all to be there in case she shows up with Dax.”
I had to hand it to our sister—she was a crafty bitch. I never would have thought to use the best friend.
“You sure it won’t seem odd for her to just happen to show up to your party the same day you ask her for a meeting?” Sprocket asked.
“From what I gather, her best friend has no idea about this side of her life. Dax won’t risk saying anything or attracting attention to why we would know each other,” Gaby said, making it a nonissue. “All I need is for you all to show up and keep a low profile, and I
’ll see what I can do about getting her on her own for you all to talk to.”
“Any chance you found a picture for us to go off of?” I inquired.
It was almost like Dax was a ghost. She had no social media of any kind, and no pictures anywhere on the internet. Almost like someone was keeping her hidden, confirming my suspicions of her being Tricks’ old lady.
“She won’t be hard to spot, believe me. A girl like her could never be overlooked,” Gaby said, laughing.
Something about that made me grin. I couldn’t wait to meet this mysterious woman.
“Harper, it might surprise you to know that Miss Blackmore and I have met before,” Gabriella said, giving me a warm smile. “It is nice to see you again. If you could excuse me, I have a few other people that I have to go greet.”
“Of course,” Harper said, keeping up her smile until Gabriella had disappeared back into the house.
Then she turned on me.
“How the fuck do you know Gabriella Rossi?”
Harper had no clue of my connection to one of the biggest arms dealers and smugglers in the US. I never wanted to have my personal life and business cross, keeping Harper clean from all ties.
“We have a mutual acquaintance,” I said vaguely.
Harper gave me a searching look but let the issue drop. “Let’s go grab a drink.”
Following after her, I searched around to see if I could find Gabriella, but she had vanished in the crowd. I pulled out my phone and texted Wes what was going on. I didn’t like that I’d ended up at her house, of all places, after we had a meeting today that didn’t go her way. Seconds later, I got a response that he would look into the situation, making me feel better. If she had anything hidden from us, it wouldn’t be for long.
“Oh look, there’s dancing on the lower patio!” Harper pointed out excitedly as she sipped her wine.
Knowing that I wasn’t going to get out of dancing, I took a double shot of whiskey before I was yanked away from the bar. Passing her glass off to a server that was cleaning up a table, she tossed her hands in the air and joined the masses. Feeling the burn of the whiskey in my stomach, I decided to take Harper’s advice and just let myself relax and dance. I was at a party, not a shady back office deal where I needed to worry about who was here and if they were going to attack me. It had to be just a fluke that I ran into Gabriella again. If Wes found anything, he would let me know, and I would deal with it at that point.
Two Tricks (Hidden Empire Book 1) Page 2