Hope to Lie (DeSantos Book 2)

by A. R. Case

  The Brigand stopped where he started. “You tell Chris Ghost took his coat.” He snapped his fingers and motioned for her to hand it over.

  Alexis looked to the bartender. He’d taken his hand off the bat and now had it resting on the bar. There was a Brigand standing across the wooden bar from him. The gang member’s hand was hidden under his coat. It wasn’t implausible that it was on a gun. The bouncer was flanked by two additional Brigands. “Of course,” she answered, trying to keep her tone light.

  The Brigand with the flat eyes handed the coat off to the one standing next to him and leaned into her personal space. She could smell his sweat and hear his breathing. It was faster than normal, and his teeth were getting those thin gaps between each tooth from extended drug use. “You need a better boyfriend. Like me. I wouldn’t leave you alone in the weeds, little girl, unless that’s where I dump your body.” An ugly laugh bubbled up from inside his dark soul. “Little blue.” He patted her head and gathered his men. A couple of them shoved the people who were standing too close to the exit. One guy went down and the bouncer took a step but was warned off by the bartender.

  The silence lingered after they left.

  Inside, Alexis’s nerves shook. Instead of showing it, she stepped up on stage and picked up an acoustic guitar. She started strumming an old blues riff she learned from a street musician two blocks off Times Square. The chords fit an Amy Winehouse song. She began singing. That broke most of the tension. A drummer slipped in behind the kit to back her up, and her friend, who had been hiding in the back hall, took over on lead guitar. They transitioned to an older Runaways song and finished with her take on a Misfits song.

  The few who had hung around applauded, but the crowd was very thin. She hung out at the bar while a few newer musicians tried their hands onstage. None of them was past the beginner stage. One of them looked damn young. She ordered a hard cider in a bottle, the bartender popped it open in front of her, as usual, and pushed her money back to her. “On me. Sorry about earlier. There were too many of them.”

  Alexis looked up. “I get it. Sometimes there’s those rare few you need to avoid.” She understood. Life on the streets had been pretty hard at first. Rural Pennsylvania farm life was no preparation for the hazards of homelessness in New York City. There, it was the drunks, the crazies, the mob, the pimps, the gangs, and the slick hustlers who sucked you dry. She’d gotten complacent here. Her life had been easy. Too easy. The hunger she’d felt, both real and musical, hadn’t been as urgent. Instead, it had been a small worry when it should have been driving her forward even during comfortable times. Dylan’s shit was a minor nuisance. He was only one of a larger circle of friends who would take her in eventually.

  But going head-to-head with a drugged-up biker? That ranked almost as high as her worst night on the streets.

  “You’re a smart girl. You’ll make it one of these days, you’ve got the talent, and the life skills to make it work. When you do, come back here and visit. I’d like to hear what the other half live like.” The bartender didn’t stop the behind bar clean up as he spoke.

  Everyone in this circle dreamed of hitting it big. Few made it past local popularity. Even fewer traveled regionally. Some moved on to New York City or LA, but they were never heard from again. She’d seen it, the man talking to her had seen it, and both of them knew you don’t dare tempt fate by claiming success before it happened. But he sounded certain. “I promise.”

  He nodded and moved on to fill an order, then announced last call.

  Alexis took the bottle and went to the back to collect her microphone and a smaller bag of gear. By the time she said her goodbyes to one of the newer musicians, the bar was empty.

  “Shit.” She scanned the place. The bartender was wiping down the top of the bar and putting up stools. “Did Kyle leave?”

  “About ten minutes ago.”

  Kyle had a car. “How long before you leave?”

  “A bit. Haven’t done the bathrooms yet. You call a ride?”

  She glanced at her hands. She’d have to Uber it home. Home, Chris’s. The coat. Her phone was in the pocket. “Crap.”

  “What’s up?”

  “My phone was in the jacket.”

  The bartender shook his head. “It’ll be an hour. I’ll take you home then. Where you crashing lately?”

  “Ventnor City.”

  He shrugged. “That’s not far. Here.” He handed her a rag so she could keep busy by wiping down the tables. She’d done it before.

  The keys were also in the coat. When she got dropped off at the tower, the outside door was open, but the second door was behind the electronic lock. She shivered. It was only a week from Christmas and hadn’t warmed up since the storm last weekend. Luckily there was a directory. She scrolled through to the D’s and found “DeSantos, C.” She punched in the code. It rang, like a phone. And it rang. Then it rolled over to an automated voicemail. She left a message, “Chris, it’s me, Alexis. Can you let me in?”

  The wind seeped through the crack between the doors, blowing a bit of snow it had picked up from the plowed piles into a small white vee. She tried the code again. It rang four times.

  “What?” Chris sounded half asleep and annoyed.

  “Chris, can you buzz me in?”

  “What happened to your key?” He sounded a little more awake and a little more annoyed.

  “Please? It’s cold out here.” Her teeth started chattering.

  “Wha…okay.” The door buzzed and Alexis grabbed her small bag and slipped in. The lobby was almost sweltering in contrast to the cold she’d been standing in. The gas fireplace in the corner glowed blue behind the glass. She hurried to the elevator, hoping he also remembered to get up and unlock the door, so she wouldn’t be stranded in the hallway.

  It wasn’t long before she was met by her very bedraggled roommate. Chris’s hair stood up on one side, and his five o’clock shadow was half-past nine, and dark on his cheeks. The groove of his dimple gathered more hair than other places. It threw his face slightly off-balance but he looked much better that way. She breathed a sigh of relief as she set the bag with her microphone onto the small bar he had in the space between the entrance and the great room. “Thank you.”

  “Sure. What happened to your key?”

  He blinked, and noticed what she was wearing, or more importantly, what she wasn’t. “And where’s your coat?”

  Alexis blinked back the shaky tears that threatened. “It was stolen.”

  His eyebrow went up and the groove on his left cheek deepened, giving away the smile that threatened. “Good story coming?”

  She shook her head. “Ghost said…” she swallowed, remembering his eyes, and his breath on her face.

  “Ghost who?”

  He had started to laugh, but then his eyes got wide.

  “Wait, Ghost?” He glanced down to her wrist. “Fuck.”

  Both hands when to his hair, causing it to stand up farther. He took three steps away, then stopped. “Fuck!” He turned, “You okay?”

  She nodded, trying not to cry. It took another set of nods to get her voice. “I’m okay.”

  Chris looked her over, top to bottom. Something shifted from concern to a darker emotion. “He didn’t hurt you, right?”

  Alexis shook her head. He let out a breath of relief.

  “What did he say?”

  “Are you a Brigand?” She’d seen a couple of tattoos on his shoulder and one on his back. Chris wasn’t shy about walking around in just sweatpants.

  Another flash of emotion crossed his face. “Was.”

  Shit. Nothing made sense. Chris wore designer suits and worked out. He knew real estate barons on a first name basis. He was a far cry from the man with thinning teeth and creepy eyes. If he came from that lifestyle, it should have left a mark, stained him, made him something completely foreign from the
man who took her in from the cold. “How?”

  His head tipped to one side, almost as if something had knocked it off-axis. “Long time ago. What did Ghost say?” He didn’t wait for her to talk before he cursed under his breath. “Fucking Ghost. Christ.”

  “You know him?”

  Chris glared at her. “What did he say?”

  “He said to tell you he took your coat.”

  “That’s it?”

  Her skin crawled, remembering. “He said I needed a better boyfriend.”

  Chris studied her. “You told him I was your boyfriend?”

  He didn’t sound mad, or happy, or curious. It was strange.

  “No, he assumed you were.”

  She replayed the conversation in her head, trying to separate the fear from what was said. “They came in, one of them came up to me. I was trying to brush him off nicely when the other one, Ghost, came up. He noticed my coat and asked me where I got it. I said Goodwill and he called me a liar. Then he said only three people have a coat like that, and one was dead. He knew. He knew you. How?”

  Chris rubbed his face.

  “The coat doesn’t look any different than most biker coats I’ve seen. I don’t understand.”

  “Not the coat, the patches, especially the one on the sleeve.”

  She rubbed her right wrist.

  “Yeah, that one,” Chris confirmed.

  “What does it mean?”

  He shook his head. “You are better off not knowing, okay?”

  “But…”

  “I’ll get the coat back. I take it the keys were in it?”

  She nodded. “And my phone.”

  “Your phone?”

  Instead of answering, Alexis nodded again, wishing she didn’t feel like one of those cheap, felt-covered bobble-headed dog souvenirs they sold on the boardwalk.

  “Fuck.” Chris began to pace. “You have any bank apps or other information like that on the phone? Contact lists, pictures?”

  “Pictures, videos. I back those up on the cloud.”

  He shook his head. “Dirty pictures, nude selfies, that shit.”

  Her eyes widened. “No. And, yes, a banking app.”

  “Call your bank, now.”

  “But it’s three in the morning.”

  “They have after-hour call centers?”

  Alexis thought about it. It was a national bank. “Maybe.”

  Chris picked his phone off the bar. “Use mine to look up the information. Tell them your account has been compromised. Tell them your phone’s been stolen and you think they might be able to get into your account.”

  “It can’t wait?”

  “No. It can’t.” He nudged the phone at her. She took it and after a little bit of searching found the right number and was able to notify the bank.

  “Social media log-ins?”

  Alexis’s heart dropped. “I think so.”

  “Can you change the passwords?”

  “I don’t remember them.”

  His eyebrow went up, both of them, actually. “How do you get in?”

  Her shoulders dropped. “They text a temporary code to my phone.”

  He shook his head. “What about your laptop? Can you try to reset and let them know you lost your phone?”

  “Is all this necessary?” Her voice broke.

  He stepped in closer, pulling her chin up to look at her. “Yes. Absolutely necessary.”

  Alexis stared out the glass between the great room and the balcony. The lights of the city glittered, and fog was rolling off the beach again, creating a wall of clouds that stopped slightly inland. All that beauty had a price. Karma called in her marker. Now she had to start paying. As she refocused on the interior, her eyes caught on the bag with her microphone and wireless earpiece. Life has a way of balancing, and the things most important to her were intact. It gave her a bit of hope. “Okay.” Her voice wavered, but inside something steadied. Chris was right next to her, and the heat of him radiated in the small space between them. He was so certain and clear, and dependable. She shook her head. “Thank you again. What about the keys?”

  “I’ll talk to the building tomorrow and get the locks changed. It’s all good.”

  “But you’ll be late for work.”

  His head did that tip and he stared at her again. “So?”

  “Your business means a lot to you, and I’m screwing it up. Again.”

  His reply was very quick. “No. Absolutely not. If anything, it’s me screwing up things for you. None of this is your fault, okay?” His hand brushed her cheek again and settled in her hair. His fingers threaded through, rubbed her scalp behind her ear, and then stilled. If Alexis would look up into his eyes, he’d probably kiss her, so she didn’t. She let the opportunity go. It was another payment to Karma, just in case. It didn’t stop her from putting her hand over his and feeling the warmth from his fingers. She threaded her fingers between his. His heartbeat matched the pace of hers. If she took the chance right now, she’d owe. She made certain she paid her debts up front. Too many years of getting knocked down were behind her now to mistake the signs. “No strings, Chris.”

  With that, he detangled his hand from hers. “Right. Sorry.” He was always careful of her, and Alexis felt horrible inside. It had felt so good to lean on his strength, to let go of the fear for once. But it was an illusion that could be stripped away in seconds. Tonight, she’d gotten tossed back into the uncertainty and the pain after a brief reprieve. It hurt worse somehow. She was better off not knowing what it would be like to be wrapped in his warmth, to step into a world where Chris DeSantos stood between her and the cold.

  Alexis Canens was a lie, but that didn’t stop her from being strong. She’d make it. Life, with all of its hardness, would not beat her into the dirt today. No one had to stand between her and the pain, but it didn’t mean she didn’t see what Chris was doing. “I appreciate you looking out for me. I do.” She felt the need to tack on the extra sincerity, just so he knew how much it meant to her.

  He nodded. “You good?”

  “I’m good.” She didn’t lie, exactly.

  “Tomorrow, after I get the key situation figured out, I’ll see if Tony can cover my meeting. You feel like coming to the shop with me while I straighten it out?”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re getting your phone and the keys and the coat back.”

  He sounded so certain.

  That was scary.

  Chapter 8 — Family

  Tony DeSantos leaned back in the rolling chair he’d commandeered when Chris called him in. The door to his office was still open because Tony never shut doors behind him. He looked out at the shop. Noise from a fabrication project drowned out most of the banter of the workers. An occasional joke, or yell across the space, broke the sound of metal grinders and the CNC machines. But that wasn’t what had Tony’s attention.

  No, Chris knew exactly what he was looking at. Alexis.

  Well, Alexis and the shop dogs. She’d taken one look at his Rottweilers and fell in love. It seemed they had, too. She was probably sitting cross-legged on the cold concrete, getting puppy mauled by the hundred-pound plus numbskulls. Some guard dogs they were.

  “Not your usual type,” Tony finally commented.

  “That took you all of two minutes.”

  His brother laughed. “Seriously? You give up tall, society blondes for blue-haired rock chicks?”

  “She’s not why I asked you in here. Shut the door.”

  Tony got up and looked at the scene outside one last time before shutting the door. “What gives?”

  “Remember Ghost?”

  Tony stopped halfway into his attempt to sit back down. He pinned Chris with a stare, but then broke it to finish sitting. “I have a feeling this isn’t going to be good.” He crossed his le
gs after propping his feet on Chris’s desk.

  Annoyed at his brother for the disrespect of his space, he scowled. There were bigger issues to deal with, so he let it slide. Those feet would drop to the floor soon. “He took Alexis’s coat and phone.”

  “So.”

  “My coat.”

  “So?”

  His brother was damn dense sometimes. “My prospect coat, with the legacy patch.”

  As he had predicted, his brother’s feet hit the floor. Tony started to say something but stopped. Started to say something else but stopped again. Finally, he asked, “Why was she wearing your prospect coat?”

  Chris sighed. Trust his brother to start with the difficult questions. “I gave it to her.”

  Tony leaned forward. His eyes searched for something. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” That was the truth, much like the truth that was dawning on Chris about most of his reactions to Alexis. “I don’t know, except she looked good in it.”

  Tony snorted. “I bet.”

  He had the urge to punch his brother. “It’s not like that.”

  “Sure it isn’t.” He leaned back and opened the door to look out, then shut it again. “Wait, isn’t that the same coat the lawyer called about this morning?”

  “Yes.” His lawyer relayed that because their stories didn’t match up, there were follow-up questions. One of them was about the coat and when he gave it to Alexis. “She didn’t say exactly why. It’s probably nothing.”

  “So you are going to sic the old man on Ghost to get the coat back?”

  That was exactly what Chris was planning. It was a good thing, and a horrible thing, his brother understood what all this meant. A part of him was still trying to deny that his past had come back to haunt him and Alexis. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

  Tony put his hands together. His left hand still had a line of fresh scars where surgeons had gone in and reconnected the tendons and muscles inside it. It also had a shiny gold band on it, that glinted at Chris, reminding him that his brother had changed, a lot. Chris was counting on that maturity right now.

  “Better than trying to track down Ghost at a clubhouse or one of the locals and fighting him for it. What are you going to offer? This isn’t going to come free.”