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“Sure. Not like I got shit else to do. I’ll let you know when I have something.” And then the call was over, making me question my leadership skills again.
I couldn’t think of any of that, not right now, when I was so damn desperate to reclaim the calm I felt before I got back to the clubhouse. How could the one place that mattered to me the most, be the biggest source of my stress?
That was another question I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer, not now. I needed something else to focus on and as I passed one of the three titty bars in Mayhem, I found the perfect fucking thing. A yellow and black Camaro that someone who didn’t know cars would mistake for a Mustang, and it was sticking out like a sore thumb. “Perfect.”
I wouldn’t do anything tonight. Probably. But I did wander into the club like I owned it. Not that anybody noticed, which was fine with me.
My goal was to follow Vigo, let him know that I had my eye on him. If White Boy Craig was happy to look like a punk ass bitch and let this snitch live, he didn’t deserve the respect of me not killing this fuckwad as soon as I got the chance. Not tonight, I had to remind myself at least a dozen times as I watched him sitting right up front and making lewd comments to the dancers. Cheap fucker tossed out dollar bills and then got angry when the girls found bigger pockets to dance for.
“All that money you got for selling out your club and you’re handing out singles? Pathetic.”
He froze, and his face went pale as I stood beside him. Too close. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”
I smiled. “Right now? Nothing. But soon, Vigo. That’s a fucking promise.” I left a bullet, a hollow point, on the table in front of him and walked away. Let that asshole stew over that. It didn’t take long for him to get spooked. About ten minutes later he slid into that yellow eyesore and hit the road with me right on his ass.
He stopped at a whorehouse—not one of ours—but it took him fifteen minutes before he was walking out again with a satisfied smirk on his face. Because it took a real man to please a woman being paid to fuck you, right? I followed Vigo all night. Everywhere he went I was like his fucking shadow. He stopped at a biker bar and I was there at the other end of the bar watching.
Then a rundown apartment building where he was greeted by a woman with chunky red and blonde highlights. He went inside with the woman and did who knew what, but the lights stayed on for a few hours before all signs indicated they were in for the night.
I wouldn’t be fooled so easily and since I couldn’t sleep and had nothing else going on, I waited. And waited. Finally, four hours later, that s
marmy shit heel walked out and I followed him because he was out of places to go. He couldn’t go to Roadkill even if he wanted to, not with them looking to kill his ass and he’d gone everywhere else he could.
“You’re out of options,” I muttered while he idled at a four-way stop sign trying to figure out if he could out-maneuver me. He’d spotted me in his rear view by now.
We both knew he couldn’t get away from my bike and he finally, slowly made a right turn. Then a left before hooking another right into a parking lot that sat in front of a small four-story apartment building that looked like it was built in the sixties. He scanned the parking lot and when his gaze landed on mine, I flipped him off.
“Asshole!”
That only made me grin. I waited until he went inside before I got off my bike and walked the same path Vigo had until I was outside his door. I balled a fist and pounded the door in two sharp knocks. “Time’s running out, Vigo.”
And then I went home and slept for at least one full hour.
It wasn’t much but it was progress.
***
I pulled up to Moon’s house with a big smile on my face. The reason? About fifty pounds of nearsighted, adorable goofiness standing just inside the front porch.
“Hi, Cross, did you come to read with me again?” Beau looked up as he pushed his glasses up his nose, his mouth pulled into a wide grin.
“Hey, little man. Rocky asked me to bring some paintings to your mom.” Why I’d let the little spitfire talk me into it, I didn’t know. Okay, that was a damn lie, I knew why. For some reason I found Moon’s presence more soothing than annoying now that I knew her better.
“I like Rocky.” He flashed another grin that was so damn contagious my lips were already pulling into a matching grin. “We painted Monster Trucks the other day. Hang on, I’ll tell Mom you’re here.”
The sound of his feet shuffling across the floor cut through the quiet house and I wondered where exactly Moon was hiding.
“Come in,” he said when he came back, unlocking the screen door to let me in.
“Is she busy?”
“Just finishing yoga so you have to wait.”
I set the paintings down against the wall underneath a window and took the same seat I’d had on my last visit. I noticed the wheeze in his voice that Moon had talked about but didn’t know if I should mention it, so I just said, “What’s up, Beau?”
“Not much. I got new asthma meds but I don’t like them.”
“No one likes medicine, kid. We endure it because we don’t want to stay sick.”
