Chapter 4

4

ESTELLE

I glance down at my phone and grimace. There's a text from Nevada.

Blue Eyes

Got what you need…

I have no idea which way to take that text message, but I can guarantee he's only got one thing on the brain. I try not to think about last night, in fact, I've been trying all morning to get the vision out of my head; my purple dildo inside of me while I imagined Nevada sending me to heaven and back over and over. I exhausted myself, but at least I had a good night's sleep.

I know he's goading me and just trying to get a reaction, but I'm done playing games. This has gone on long enough.

If I didn't have to hold down a day job and pay the bills, I'd be over there at his workshop kicking his ass. Oh yeah, I know all about where he works and his stupid club.

I know he's a heavy-duty mechanic, and while I admit that is kinda hot, I can no more see him getting dirty under a truck than I can witnessing Mary Poppins riding a motorcycle. I guess it's still possible to surprise me.

Then again, I'm jaded, according to my best friend.

"You're doing it again," Halo sing-songs.

I glance up from my desk. "Doing what?"

"That resting bitch face."

"I do that in my sleep. What else is new?"

"Is that because of lover boy?" She bats her eyelashes at me.

"If you're referring to the giant pain in my ass, then yeah, that'd be him."

"I bet he'd be a giant pain in your ass, if you get my drift." She winks a couple of times.

I stare blankly at her. "Please do me a favor and never refer to anal first thing in the morning, it's too early for this shit."

She just laughs.

I sit at my desk, unsure what the hell I'm gonna say, but then my fingers start typing before I can stop them.

Me

I highly doubt that, but for the sake of multiple texts back and forth, care to elaborate?

An incoming picture of him blowing me a kiss through the camera has me shaking my head in exasperation. At least it wasn't a dick pic.

Me

Be serious

Blue Eyes

I am being serious. Oh, and I've got intel. Thought you might want to meet up

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise and my pulse quickens. Intel? Is he serious. If he's pushing my buttons again, I'm not gonna be so compliable. He'll think a knife to the balls was a walk in the park.

I press the call button as I rise from my desk. He answers on the first ring. "Told you I'd write," he laughs down the phone.

"Shut up and tell me what you've got."

"Right now? I've got a chub for your sexy telephone voice."

This man will be the death of me…

"Do I have to come there and kick your ass again?"

"Again? I've had worse slaps from my mother, Hell Cat. I've been dreaming of you."

I try not to let that idea get to my head. Nevada is a player. A womanizer. I'm nothing special to him and as long as I remember that and keep my head in the game, it'll be alright.

"You spend way too much time thinking of new nicknames for me, you need a better hobby." Halo looks up from her computer and gives me a coy smile. I turn my back on her and walk toward the window.

"Oh, I have one, but touchin' myself everyday while picturing how good we'd be in bed doesn't pay the bills, Mama."

I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat as I almost choke on my own spit. Jeepers, this guy does not mince words. It's like his filter is permanently set to off.

"Anyone ever told you that you need to wash your mouth out?"

"My mom tells me daily, but she's as pure as the driven snow so I'd expect that from her, but from you? Not a chance."

"You don't know me."

"Well, I'm about to be your new best friend."

"Really, and why's that?"

"I got a sit down with Cash, oh, and I invited Brew and Haze along for the ride. Figured we could hit them all at once with questions."

I don't like the way he says we. Like he's somehow inserting himself into my crusade.

I swallow hard. "You did?" I turn back to Halo. She glances up again and I make a rapid continuing circle with my index finger. She takes her glasses off and rises from behind her desk, reaching for her purse.

"Hey, I said I'd deliver and I did. I wasn't forgettin' our deal, Mama."

"We didn't make a deal."

"Yep, we did. I said if I helped you, then you'd have to scream my name..."

My knees just about go weak when I remember his actual words:" That's it, Mama. You keep recitin' that name, pretty girl. Because when we meet again, you're gonna be screamin' it for all of New Orleans to hear. You got me?"

This man isn't doing this to help you. He's doing it to help himself.

"That wasn't a deal, that was you tryin' to get your own way," I say.

"Can you blame me? A man's gotta try his luck."

"You're not getting into my pants so give it up. I'm sure there's some spoiled little princess somewhere with her heart beating wildly just waiting for a man like you to corrupt her."

I avoid Halo's snicker as I head back toward my desk and pull out my weapons. You can't be too sure going into the lion's den.

"I'm nothin' if not resourceful, and why does it always have to be some spoiled little princess? Would it shock you to know I'm capable of more."

I laugh out loud. "Right. I'm sure you're capable of leading anyone without a brain down the garden path."

"Your words hurt me."

I roll my eyes. "Because they're true?"

"No, because we both know that you're not givin' me a chance due to the fact I'm twenty-seven. It's only six years."

I stop in my tracks. "I never told you my age."

"Age is just a number, baby. And women who are older are just better all round in my opinion."

This idiot. Seriously. I decide to play along because what the hell have I got to lose at this point? "Is that right?"

"Uh huh."

"How do you figure?" I ignore the fact he has a sexy voice and try to concentrate on the traffic below.

"Well, for one there's that whole cougar thing — which I'm totally into, by the way — older women know more, they're experienced and know what they want. They don't take any shit from assholes like me and they sure as shit don't give it away for free. They make you work for it. How I'm doin' so far?"

"Keep talkin', you're the only one diggin' your own grave."

"They're independent. They're seasoned. They ooze confidence. They're sexy…" Those last words he drawls in that hot as fuck deep voice of his sounds like butter.

I rest my head against the pane of the glass, unsure how this turned into me liking the sound of his dumb voice.

"Did you ever figure older women might just not be into you?"

"Don't know. Never pursued one until now."

"Is that what you're doing?"

"Oh, trust me, Mama. I haven't even begun to pursue you yet."

I snort. At least he makes me laugh, that's a first. But it's more his audacity than anything else that keeps me entertained. "Well, some of us older women can't be won over by stupid candy hearts and flowers, Pretty Boy. Some of us may not want what you're offering."

"You wouldn't be sayin' that if you saw my dick."

My lips part and no sound comes out for several moments — now I'm picturing his dick and that is not what I wanted to be doing. Then I hear him laughing.

"You did not just say that."

"I'm kiddin'. Well, kinda. Not had any complaints. But if you got to know me, you'd see there's more to me than just my body."

"Next you're going to tell me you're not a piece of meat."

"If the shoe fits. I take a size fifteen, by the way." Cocky little shit.

We're here to do business, not to play this stupid game. "What intel do you have?"

"No foreplay, huh? I dig that, straight into it. How soon can you be at the clubhouse?"

I walk back toward my desk, holding the cell against my shoulder and shrug into my denim jacket. "I'm leaving now." I gather my blades, shoving them into the sheath hidden inside my boots. I have a handgun permit and I slide them into the double draw shoulder holster. A girl has to be prepared for all weathers.

"Don't you need the address?" I hear the cheer in his tone, like he knows exactly what I'm going to say next.

"I'm not an amateur, I know where your clubhouse is."

He snickers. "Of course you do."

I hang up, shoving my cell in my back pocket as I tug my arm through the other sleeve.

"I take it we're going out?"

"Nevada said he had intel." My heart races with anticipation. He wouldn't lead me to another dead end, would he? I internally facepalm myself. Of course he would.

He'll stop at nothing to taunt me and get what he wants, but surely he wouldn't be this cruel. All I do in between jobs is look for her. I only went back to taking new jobs on a couple of weeks ago because my cash flow was drying up. In a way it felt disloyal going back to work while my sister is still missing. It's like the world just keeps on turning no matter how much your entire world is falling apart. It doesn't stop no matter how broken you are inside. One thing I've learned in this game over the years is how much this city will swallow you whole if you let it. It waits for nobody. Neither does time.

I used to tell everyone that time was our most precious commodity. Not money. Or Power. Or nice pretty things. But time. Now time is my biggest enemy. No matter how much of it passes, my sister is still out there alone, being forced to do God knows what. And here I am, a private investigator and I can't even find her. I have crumbs. Nothing concrete, and every lead turns into another dead end then another.

I want to scream. I want to punch something. I want to yell at the world that it isn't fair, but that's not going to bring Tilly back.

"Hey?" Halo rests a hand on my shoulder. "Come back to me."

I do this a lot. I drift off, thinking unimaginable thoughts. Torturing myself. I smile weakly. "You're coming with me?"

She looks affronted; her eyebrows knitting together. "Uh, duh. I'm not letting my best friend go into a biker's clubhouse alone. What kind of friend would that make me?"

I quirk a brow. "Are you sure you're not just tagging along to get a look at Cutie Pie one more time?"

"I think that name kinda suits him. It's Riot, by the way."

"Riot? That doesn't sound good."

"I think it sounds very good. Like peanut butter and jelly good."

I smile wider. "Uh, huh. Just remember, as much as they play devil's advocate and pretend to be the good guys, they still run with the Irish mafia."

Yeah, I heard all about that and the shit that went down with the Devils Ink and the mob. I have friends in low places for a reason.

"Okay, Mom."

I roll my eyes. "Let's go."

She nods in my direction. "You packed a few weapons there, friend. You think this'll turn ugly?"

"I hope not." I shrug. "They claim to be a legit club, so let's see how legit they really are."

"Oh, no. You're going to pick a fight, aren't you?"

I press my hand to my heart and bat my eyelashes "Would I do a thing like that?"

"Yes, if you don't get your own way."

I shrug carelessly. She's right. If things don't go as planned then it means I start from scratch. It'll put all the time and resources we've already spent to bed, and it won't help bring Tilly home.

"I guess they'd better play ball then, hadn't they?"

"Hello," the tall, cute guy wearing an apron says, giving us a friendly wave. "I'm Manny. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Is this guy for real?

He looks out of place here. Too friendly, for one, and I've never seen a biker wear eyeliner or rock the George Michael cross earring quite like this dude.

"Star and Halo, we're here to see Cash."

He looks us up and down, tapping his finger against his chin. "Wait, I've seen you," he says to me. "Priest's wedding?"

Halo makes a little cough/laugh in her throat, which I ignore. She told me not to gatecrash and I didn't listen. I never listen, so I don't know why she was surprised.

I clear my throat. "The very one."

"Nevada said you were a ball of fire, but he didn't tell me you were this pretty." He gives me a lopsided smile, then winks at Halo. "With a cute friend."

"Something smells amazing." Halo tries to peer over his shoulder, but there's only the bar and some pool tables behind him.

He claps his hands together. "I just made a fresh batch of cookies because I heard you were coming for a meeting and I thought it might cheer up the boys before you go in. Come." He turns and we find ourselves following him through the expansive space.

I'm impressed.

I always thought biker clubhouses were the pits of Hell. Dirty. Smelly. Probably with bikers lazing around at all hours drinking and smoking, strippers hanging off poles at the ready. As I glance around the space, nobody else is around. I know everyone works in this club, so I guess most of the meetings and parties and stuff probably happen at night.

"Do the boys need cheering up?" Halo whispers to me.

I shrug.

Manny hears, turning over his shoulder he says, "Don't mind them. Brew and Haze are a little annoyed with the club because they were away when the raid went down with the mob. I'm sure you've heard about it, it's been all over the news."

For the last few months, it's all that's made the headlines. "We have," I say. "That's one of the reasons that I wanted to talk to the club." I take a deep breath. "I need information on my sister, Tilly. I heard Brew and Haze might know something as they were the last ones seen in the underworld before the raid. They have connections and I need answers."

Manny turns in the doorway. "Your sister?"

A lump forms in my throat. The concern on his face is endearing, his sympathetic smile a stab to my heart. I should be used to this by now, I've been saying it for long enough. "Yes. She went missing recently and I'm looking for her."

He reaches out and squeezes my forearm. I look down at his hand, surprised I let him touch me. He's a good guy, I think. I don't get any strange vibes coming off him, and he baked us cookies, for heaven's sake. "I'm really sorry."

I nod.

"The recent trafficking ring was busted wide open," Halo goes on. She knows when to take the lead. "And we have good reason to believe that when Tilly was snatched, she ended up in a holding cell ready for transportation either out of state or out of the country, the details were sketchy. We thought when the feds intercepted a shipment during the raid she'd be there, but she wasn't."

I look away. I can't bear it.

"Where was she taken?" Manny's voice is softer. His hand leaves my body and I can breathe again.

"A club called Viper's Engine," I find my voice. "She went for a night out with her girlfriends, somehow during the night they got separated and the guy she was dancing with — we believe — slipped something into her drink which is usually how it goes down, and she was never seen again. Her purse was found a few blocks away, all of her ID removed."

Manny stares at me. "I'm sorry, Star. That must be incredibly difficult to come to terms with. I admire your courage."

I snort. "I don't feel like I have much of it. Knowing your sister could be dead or being used in the worst possible way is like living in Hell every single day. The slight chance that she could be alive is what keeps me going. That's why I'm here."

"Well, if anyone can help, it's the club. Despite what you may think or have heard, this club is legit and we don't do illegal shit." He holds up his hands. "That's not to say the club don't carry out their own justice — hence the recent takedown. The feds may be assholes in this city, but none of them wanted the mob back in town."

This guy certainly is chatty.

"What's your biker name?" Halo asks.

Manny turns to the baking tray behind him, picks up a spatula and starts piling the chocolate chip cookies onto a plate. "I don't have one. It's just Manny. Nobody dares piss me off because if they do, they know that I'll take my culinary skills with me and open up shop somewhere else."

That makes me smile. He knows his worth, I like that.

"Help yourself," he says, nudging the plate our way. "If you like, I'll go and see if they're ready for you in a second."

I smile appreciatively and take a cookie. Halo does the same and she groans as she bites into it. "These are so good!"

Manny laughs. "Glad you like them. It's an old recipe. The calories magically disappear if you have three or more." He winks.

Halo giggles and I decide he's safe, at least for now. I don't trust anyone aside from Kyle and Halo. "I better keep eating then."

"I guess you better."

The kitchen is industrial with all the mod cons. Again, it's clean and there are rows of shelves behind him lined with spices and pots and pans. It's all stainless steel and the huge burner stove behind him is as big as my truck. I didn't expect to come into the NOLA Rebels clubhouse and be greeted with niceties and fucking cookies.

Nothing about anything to do with the Rebels has been normal from the get-go, so should I honestly be surprised?