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Okay, I hadn’t seen that one coming.
“Is he good?” Jack asked.
“He’s the best in LA. Maybe the whole state.”
“Would he take the job?”
“…I guess so… are you sure that’s what you want?”
“I need help to take down Lou. I don’t care who does it, as long as they’re good.”
“Alright… can’t hurt to ask…”
23
Jack
It was harder seeing her than I’d thought it would be.
For one, she was hot. God damn she was hot. Maybe it was because I hadn’t busted a nut in two weeks, but I don’t think it was just that. Her eyes… her hair in a ponytail… her tits pressing tight against her t-shirt, with that fucking incredible cleavage peeking out from the V-neck…
And the whole back room smelled like her. Not just her perfume, but the scent of her body. I remembered it well from every morning I woke up next to her, and it was driving me crazy.
In fact, I started to get hard.
Then I got angry. All the things she’d done… all the ways she’d backstabbed me… and yet all I could think about was slamming her down on that sofa and fucking her again. Anything to be inside her one more time.
It took a massive effort, but I steered my mind away from that and back to the original plan: hiring her as a PI.
Of course, she’d made a good point about not being able to do any sort of work out in the open in Richards. So I improvised and asked about her boss.
Which brought me face to face with one of the most bizarre fucking people I’d met in a while. And as the former leader of a motorcycle club, that’s saying something.
He looked like a fuckin’ cue ball. Short, completely bald, with black-rimmed lenses that were thick as shot glasses. He was old, but it was hard to tell exactly how old. Maybe 55, maybe closer to 70 – though he seemed pretty spry. He wore a short-sleeve polo shirt with a pair of khakis and tennis shoes, like his mom had just dressed him for third grade. That was a strange contrast with the gravelly voice and the SEMPER FI tattoo on his right forearm.
Just a completely bizarre motherfucker.
First thing he said when we walked back in the room was, “Didja bone on my mini fridge?”
“You would’ve heard us,” Fiona assured him, amused.
“Yeah, you two don’t exactly seem like the quiet types.”
“Jesus, Sid – ”
“Hey, I’m like Sherlock Holmes. I notice shit and make deductions.”
“Speaking of which, Jack here wants to hire us.”
“For money? Or for free cuz he figures you owe him?”
“You, for money,” Fiona said. “Me, I’ll work for free.”
“That’s not necessary,” I told her.
“It is necessary – ”
“You two can argue about it later in bed,” the old guy said. “As long as I’m gettin’ paid, siddown.”
