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“A suspected Harlot.”
I gasped and slapped a hand to my mouth. “A prostitute? Those religious folks know how to party, don’t they?”
He let out a frustrated breath. “You know I mean a woman from the Harlot Queens Motorcycle Club.”
“Ah, so he’s into bad girls. Good for him.” I could see the frustration grow on his face in the way he pressed his mouth together in a thin line.
“You had something to do with Mr. Nomikos’s disappearance, and I’ll prove it.” He stepped in closer. “The neighbors told me about you sneaking around their neighborhood, and I saw the report of you being brought in with my own eyes.”
“And not formally arrested because they couldn’t get me on anything.” I shook my head. “Tough luck, Officer.”
“Detective.” He exhaled in irritation and glanced toward the restaurant’s door when the bell chimed as Hound stepped out. Hanlon swallowed and shuffled back when Hound came stalking toward us, looking like a hunting dog on a mission. He had short dark hair, thick eyebrows, brown eyes, and a short beard, and he stood out dressed in black.
“Problem, Detective?” Hound shook a paper bag he held in his hand. “Because me and my buddy here need to eat.”
Hanlon dropped his arms and focused on me. “I know you had something to do with this disappearance, just like I know Jonas is probably with you. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
“Where’s your usual asshole partner?” Hound asked, ignoring everything Hanlon had just said. “He on vacation?”
Hanlon turned on his heel without a word and walked away.
I pushed myself off the wall and stood tall. “Detective.”
He paused, keeping his back to me.
“Maybe instead of worrying about some fuckhead from a religious cult, you should be more concerned about his son.” I clenched my jaw, my own words stoking a fire in my belly. “Maybeyou should find out where they were sending Jonas in Mexico.”
Hound knocked my arm and shook his head, while Hanlon glanced over his shoulder at me.
“Why? Where did they send him?” he asked.
I grinned. “No idea, but if you do find out, let me know. Sounds fun.”
Hanlon let out a sigh of frustration and strode back to the Nissan, jerking open the door and getting inside. I watched until he’d turned on the vehicle and left, then groaned.
Hound laughed. “You know how to piss off the boys in blue, Sheep.”
“He knows I don’t have a license.” I glared in the direction the Nissan had disappeared.
“Then you better get one sooner rather than later, or you’ll get caught eventually.”
I knew he was right, but hopefully the license was the only thing I had to worry about from the cops.
18
JONAS
My day was shockingly good,considering how it had started. For about an hour I’d cleaned out a small room on the second floor of the clubhouse that only had a bed and a closet, which was about the same as the trailer—minus a fridge and private shower. Someone had done a bad job of patching a hole in the ceiling. After a minute or two of scoping out the situation, I’d decided that if I painted everything, no one would notice the shoddy repair work. After I got the last of the trash out of the room, I spent the rest of my time behind the clubhouse bar being coached through mixing simple drinks by Josh. He was patient and smiled more than anyone else in the room, which put me at ease.
“You’ve really never had a sip of alcohol?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the shiny wooden bar as I carefully measured out a shot of Jack Daniel’s into a tumbler. “This is for King. Just pour,” he said with a laugh. He reached over and grabbed the heavy glass bottle, then didn’t stop until the alcohol was in danger of sloshing out.
“Teach him right, Josh,” King said from the end of the bar where he was glaring at an open folder. He sighed and slapped his hand on the bar, and I carried the tumbler over to him. He grunted, which was kind of a thank you, but didn’t look up as he accepted the drink. He sighed and shoved the folder aside, then slipped his sunglasses from his head down onto his nose.
“Don’t drink that all at once.” Josh leaned his elbows on the bar and glared in King’s direction. “Dallas asked me not to serve you, you know. You’re really making me pick my friends here.” Josh’s lip curled.
“Is Dallas the president or am I?” King asked, pointing at him, but there was no fire in his tone as he gulped half the alcohol.
Josh sighed, and I backed away because I got the feeling I didn’t want to be involved in whatever was going on there.
