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Sometimes it was years between getting on that list and getting shivved. Lou was a patient man, and that list was very, very long.
I had an inkling I was one of the names on it.
“Lou’s up to something, no question,” I said to Kade. “Keep it on the down-low, but start digging when and where you can.”
“What do you think it might be?”
“I don’t want to speculate. It might be nothing – but knowing Lou, it’ll look like nothing on the surface, but there’ll be a chamber of horrors underneath.”
“Hm,” was all Kade replied.
“And be careful. If there’s any doubt in your mind when you’re digging for info, back off. I don’t want word getting back to him.”
“He wouldn’t do anything to me,” Kade said, a little too matter-of-factly for my tastes.
“Not out in the open. But if you think Lou wouldn’t pull strings behind the scenes to get your throat cut in a dark alley, you got another thing comin’.”
“Hm.”
“Not a word to anyone else about this,” I warned, though it was entirely unnecessary. If there was a tighter-lipped man in Richards than Kade, I’d never met him.
He nodded, then slipped off to the mechanic’s bay while I went into the office to start the day.
But the brunette?
She was still on my mind.
8
She was still on my mind when she walked into my office that afternoon.
“Boss?” Drew said from the doorway as my back was turned. Drew was in the MC, one of the newer members. Enthusiastic soldier, mediocre mechanic.
“What,” I muttered as I wrestled with the tax numbers to give the accountant. That was one thing to be said for being an outlaw: not having to deal with fuckin’ Uncle Sam. When you sold ten grand in drugs, your tax bracket was exactly zero, and FICA didn’t even come into the equation.
“There’s a girl here says she knows you.”
“I’m a woman, not a girl,” said a cool, familiar voice.
I turned around, my mood suddenly improving 1000%.
“Yes you are,” I grinned as soon as I saw her there. She was out of her waitress’ get-up and wearing tight jeans and a black halter top. Her long hair was finally unpinned, and swept down her shoulders and halfway down her back.
Damn.
“Thanks, Drew,” I said, dismissing him. He gave the brunette the stink-eye as he left. She ignored him completely.
“So,” I continued. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Ms. – ?”
“Fiona,” she said, the barest trace of a smile on her lips. “Fiona Christensen.”
I got up from my seat and extended a hand. “Jack Pollari.”
She took it. Her grip was firm, especially for a woman – but her skin was smooth. Soft.
I held onto her for longer than she probably would have liked.
Or maybe she liked it plenty. She was a little hard to read.
