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Gia swallows. “Nothing specific. I moved some of the church money around a couple of times.”
“Church money? How much?” Coop leans forward, very interested in her answer.
“Couple-hundred grand, maybe two-fifty.” Gia shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but her entire body is tight with tension.
“Do you know the account owners?”
She laughs. “Frank? Yeah, I know Frank. They were all church accounts.”
“You didn’t find that suspicious?” I ask because Gia seems like a smart woman and would have had questions.
“No. Why would I? Frank was a nice guy to Mom, and he didn’t treat me like a piece of shit. He actually complimented me on my skills and told me I should do something with them.”
Her shoulders droop, and she lets out a tired sigh. “He gave me five hundred bucks for the job.”
“How was he after you made the transfers?”
She shrugs. “Squirrely the whole time I was doing it, but once it was done, he seemed more relaxed, ya know?”
Gia downs her drink in one smooth gulp. “Can I get another one?”
Ace nods. “Yeah, Coop, can you get Gia a drink?”
“Sure.”
Ace continues, “I would consider it a personal favor if you could get me the account numbers where the money originated, Gia.”
“And if I can’t?”
Ace shrugs. “I’ll be disappointed, but you’ll be safe.”
She nods and picks up her purse, producing a pen. “You know why his church burned down? Ro says the news is calling it arson.” She snatches a napkin from the table and starts writing really fast.
“I do,” Ace confirms. “It wasn’t this MC, which is how I know Frank is alive, but without us, he won’t be for long.”
Gia accepts the half-truth and hands the napkin to Ace. “That’s the account number. We done here?”
“You don’t need to look it up?”
“I have a head for numbers.”
“Well, how about that? Yeah, we’re done. Thanks for your help, Gia.”
“Whatever, Ace,” she says in a tired voice and stands up, taking the fresh drink from Coop and gulping it down.
“Get her home safe,” Ace orders.
I nod and stand to follow Gia.
“See if you can thaw her a little,” Coop suggests.
I nod and find Gia resting against my bike with a cigarette between her lips.
“Terrible habit.”
“Yeah,” she grunts. “I’m full of terrible habits.” She steps back and waits for me to get on the bike. When I do, Gia tosses the cigarette butt, stomps on it, and hops on. She’s less handsy than before, which I both hate and appreciate.
It’s not easy to ride a bike this size with a cock as hard as steel, and the way her hands roamed my body on the way over had been sweet blissful torture.
