THE HUSTLE: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK FOURTEEN)

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THE HUSTLE: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK FOURTEEN) Page 5

by Honey Palomino


  My one comfort was the thought that if Artie had any surveillance of me on his property, he’d never turn it over. It would only implicate him and show the world what he’d done to Tulsa before she fell over that cliff.

  If there was surveillance elsewhere, outside on the street, perhaps — the car I’d used wouldn’t implicate me. I’d wiped all the prints off and left it where I’d found it — and that, too, would be a dead end for them.

  All I needed to do was keep my face out of the public eye for a bit, and things would be fine. And then I could figure out how to unload these diamonds.

  I grabbed an entire handful of them, letting them sift through my fingers, smiling at the idea of what they might bring me.

  A knock at my door made me almost jump out of my skin.

  “Pepper, are you home?” Bea’s voice called through my door.

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart as I closed my bedroom door, and walked to the front door. I opened it and smiled at the lovely lady standing there — my sweet neighbor, Beatrice. In her arms was a small white poodle named Damien. Damien hated everyone he came in contact with, except Bea and me.

  “Hi, Bea,” I said, smiling at her and reaching out to pet Damien.

  “Oh, there you are! Hello, darling! How was your night?”

  “It was okay,” I said, opening the door for her. “Do you want to come in?”

  “Oh, no, not right now,” she said. “I was hoping you could run an errand for me, actually.”

  I cringed. The last thing I wanted to do was leave the apartment. So much for laying low.

  “What do you need?” I asked. Bea was my one and only friend. She’s the only person I talk to outside of work. I’ve tried for years to keep to myself, and I’ve been successful, but Bea latched onto me as soon as I moved into our building. She’s sweet and old, and telling her no or not helping her out when she needs it just isn’t in my DNA. Usually, helping her is no problem at all, I enjoy it.

  Sometimes, she isn’t feeling well enough to go to the store or needs some help in her apartment, and I’m happy to help.

  Today, though, is a different story. The less my face is in the public, the better.

  But there she is, with those knowing sky blue eyes that feel like they’ve seen way too much and that smile that most likely turned the heads of many men in her day. I’ve heard stories. Over the years, Bea and I have gotten to know each other well. She’s the only person who knows who I really am. I’ve told her about Pop. I’ve told her how I was on my own for so long, how I still am. Of course, she thinks all a girl like me needs is to find a nice man and settle down and make a home, but that’s her generation talking. The last thing a woman like me needs is to settle down with any man, anywhere.

  I did come to learn that I needed a friend, though, and Bea was a good one. She was a mother figure at the same time, and since I never had one of those myself, being around her was comforting in a way I’d never experienced before. She taught me lots of motherly things, too — how to cook meatloaf properly and how to knit a scarf. Both of which I rarely do, but it’s good to have skills.

  Mostly, Bea taught me how to relax and just be myself, and with a lifestyle like the one I was used to, that was something I really needed in my life. We spent hours watching old movies together and drinking wine on her couch.

  The best thing about Bea is that she never asked me questions. She seemed to know that I didn’t live a traditional lifestyle and while I gave her glimpses into it, she never pried. When I was gone until the early hours of the morning, she never asked where I’d been. She never asked how I manage to afford my apartment, and yet, never seemed to go to a regular job. I appreciated that, because despite what I did for a living, I hated lying.

  Especially to Bea.

  She was the one real thing in my life and I adored her.

  Like me, she didn’t have any family. Her husband had left her a widow a decade ago and they’d not had any children. Her parents and sister had passed before her and outside of Damien, she was alone.

  We were perfect for each other.

  “I need eggs,” she said to me now, stating her innocent request.

  “Eggs, I think I have some eggs,” I said, heading to my fridge. I opened it up and sure enough, two eggs were left in their container. I took them to Bea, who was still standing at the door, but she shook her head.

  “I need two dozen,” she said.

  “Two dozen?” I asked, my eyes wide.

  “I’m making deviled eggs,” she said. “I make them every third Sunday of each month.”

  “Right,” I said, nodding slowly. Bea had weird issues with schedules and food. She made lots of food for everyone in the building. She figured out everything she was making on the first of the month for the entire month, did one shopping trip and then strictly adhered to her schedule. Every now and then, she forgot something. That’s where I came in.

  “Be a doll, Pepper, and go get them for me? My back is acting up this afternoon.”

  “Sure you can’t do it tomorrow?” I asked, glancing behind me at my closed bedroom door.

  “That would throw off my entire schedule,” she said, following my gaze. “Oh! Do you have a guest? Is there a young lad in there?”

  “Oh, no, no young lads,” I laughed. “I’ll go get your eggs in just a few minutes, okay?”

  “Oh, thank you so much, dear! I can’t believe I didn’t get enough. I guess my math was off a bit…” She wrung her hands together and my heart melted. We were both aware that she’d been forgetting things lately. She’d made mistakes in her recipes, too. I could tell she was worried and I didn’t want to add any stress to her life. She was the one good thing I had. The one thing I truly loved, outside of myself.

  “Of course,” I said, leaning down and kissing her on the forehead. “I’ll bring them over in a bit.”

  “You’re the best, dear,” she said, slowly walking back to her apartment. I closed the door and walked back to my bedroom, the diamonds lying just where I’d left them, sparkling with promise.

  I gathered them up and put everything back in the bag and shoved it all in my closet and closed the door. I opened the trunk at the end of my bed and pulled out a long, blonde wig and pulled it on. After adjusting it in the mirror, I grabbed my purse and headed out, slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses before stepping outside.

  I knew I was taking a risk. But with a disguise, I was ninety-nine-point nine percent sure I was safe.

  And if I got busted while helping out Bea, well, then so be it.

  At least it was for a good cause.

  Chapter 6

  PEPPER

  As usual, most of Los Feliz was full of self-absorbed humans, and once I put on my disguise, I wasn’t too worried about being recognized. In all the aisles and checkout lines, though, the conversation was all about Tulsa Paige’s tragic and unexpected death.

  I kept my head down, got the damned eggs, and made it back home as quickly as I could.

  Bea was in her kitchen when I walked in. She spent most of her time there, the television tuned in to either her ‘stories’ or the news. As soon as I opened the door, I was bombarded with Artie’s voice.

  The press had been camped out outside of Artie’s house all day. Cops combed the place in the background and every now and then, Artie would show his face and pretend to break down and vow to find justice for Tulsa, which is what he was doing again right now.

  Crocodile tears streamed down his face.

  “I have no idea why someone would do such a thing. Everyone loves…loved…Tulsa,” he said, his voice cracking. “She was my entire world. I have no idea how I’ll go on without her.”

  It was sickening.

  He was a murderer, but he may as well have been the star of one of his movies, because apparently, everyone was buying his pathetic, bullshit, one-man act.

  “Can you believe that asshole?” Bea said, gesturing with a spatula to the television as I stopped in f
ront of it, uttering a rare use of profanity. I looked at her with surprise.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled, putting the eggs in her fridge. “Crazy.”

  “I never liked that guy,” she said, her voice trembling. Bea was seventy-five and it was beginning to show. Her voice and her hands both shook, but her spirit never seemed to waiver. Lately, she’d been repeating herself a lot, which had me worried, but her heart was strong. The thing I liked most about her was her pure and utter kindness. Bea had never lifted an angry or unkind finger in her life. She was the mother and grandmother I always wanted, all rolled into one little spitfire human. She never hesitated to say what was on her mind. “He’s a creep.”

  “He is,” I said, a little too emphatically. She looked at me with a raised brow. “I mean, I’ve heard a lot of stories about him.”

  “I bet you have,” she said. “I’d also bet he’s not telling the entire truth about his wife’s death.”

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed, sneering at the sight of him walking away from the cameras and back down his driveway like a defeated, sad man for the cameras. I turned away and tried to muster a smile for Bea. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, dear, thank you so much. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said, smiling her angelic smile at me. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

  “I can’t tonight,” I said, shaking my head. I needed to be alone. I needed to think, and that required focus, not submitting to all the warm fuzzy feelings I got by hanging out at Bea’s. “Thank you, though. You sure you’re alright?”

  “Of course, dear, why wouldn’t I be?”

  I walked over and kissed her on the cheek. “Okay, you know where I am if you need me.”

  “Have a good evening, Pepper,” she said.

  I walked out of her apartment and down the hall and back towards mine, when I heard the sound of voices in the hallway below us, echoing up through the open stairway that led to our doors.

  I peered over the railing and saw two cops knocking at my neighbor’s door. Hank, a hipster with a handlebar mustache that worked as a barista down the street, opened it. When he saw the cops, his face dropped.

  “Hello, sir, we’re going door to door looking for a suspect in a case we’re working on. We were hoping you’d take a look at a picture and tell us if you recognize this person?”

  They shoved a picture towards him and his mouth opened. He squinted, cocked his head and then shook his head. “No, I’m not sure…”

  “But maybe? Look familiar?”

  “Well,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “To be honest, it kind of looks like my upstairs neighbor, but I’m not sure.”

  My stomach sank and I threw a hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. I flew back away from the stairs as they looked up.

  “Thank you, sir,” they said.

  “Uh, sure, I guess,” Hank said, closing the door. I ran into my apartment and closed the door, quickly locking it. Footsteps sounded on the landing outside my door and stopped just as they knocked. I held my breath, not daring to move an inch. The seconds ticked by as I waited for them to leave, and once I heard their footsteps falling again, I took a deep breath. I pressed against the door, listening as they walked over to Bea’s door and knocked.

  Biting my lip, I could feel my heart pounding as Bea answered, her usual friendliness making me cringe. She was too trusting. Too honest and good. So good that she was most certainly going to be the death of me at right this very minute.

  Damien, on the other hand, was as devilish as usual, because I could hear him growling at them.

  “Hello, ma’am, we were hoping you’d look at a photograph of a suspect we’re trying to locate and tell us if she looks familiar?”

  “Why me?” Bea asked.

  “We traced a car involved in the crime to one that was stolen nearby and we’re canvassing the neighborhood, going door to door. Your neighbor downstairs thought it might look like someone who lives up here.”

  “Is that so?” Bea asked. “Is this about that terrible murder in Malibu? The movie guy’s wife? I saw the news.”

  “Well, ma’am, we aren’t supposed to confirm that, but we couldn’t lie to a sweet woman like you, could we?”

  Bea laughed and I could almost hear her blush.

  “Okay, I’ll look at your picture, but I can guarantee you before I even see it that my dear neighbor, Pepper, isn’t involved.”

  I cringed when she said my name. I heard the shuffle of paper and then more silence.

  “Hmm,” Bea said. “Nope, doesn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen before.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” the cop said. “Do you know if your neighbor is home now?”

  “No, I think she left for a few days,” she said. My heart skipped a beat and I’d never wanted to hug Bea so badly.

  “Understood. Thanks again, ma’am,” they said, their footsteps echoing through the building as they went back down the stairs.

  Once they faded away, I set to work packing.

  I already had a go-bag packed, I’d had one prepared for years, just in case. So I grabbed it and shoved all of Artie’s shit in there — the script, the diamonds, Tulsa’s jewels. I’d already packed everything else I needed — cash, fake IDs, prepaid credit cards, several burner phones and extra clothes and toiletries, but I took the time to grab a few extra things because I had no idea how long I’d need to be gone.

  Once I was done, I grabbed my phone and texted Bea.

  “Thank you.”

  It was all I needed to say. I knew she’d understand.

  I threw my phone on the bed and left it there, taking one quick look around my apartment. I’d lived there for three years. Although I always knew the risk that I’d have to flee at a moment’s notice was a real one, I never in a million years thought I’d be framed for murder.

  Artie had taken a lot from me the first time I met him.

  Now, he was taking even more.

  I put on another wig, a spiky blonde one this time, and slipped on a pair of large sunglasses before leaving my apartment. I longed to walk into Bea’s apartment and sink into the comfort I knew lay on the other side of that door, but it was time for me to let go of that.

  With each step I descended, I pounded another nail in the walls around my heart. If I was going to get away safely and somehow, someday, find the true vengeance I needed for what Artie had done to me, I was going to need to be as stoic and strong as possible.

  And the Pepper I needed to be in order to make that happen didn’t have room for feelings in her life.

  She didn’t have room for love. Or kindness. Or weakness.

  She might have a backpack full of cash and jewels, but there was no way in hell she could ever afford to let her guard down again.

  Chapter 7

  PEPPER

  Once I started driving out of the city — in my own Honda this time, now that I didn’t need to impress anyone with a fancy car — the realization of just how alone I really was hit me.

  In Los Angeles, I pretended to have friends. I had to do that in order to build the relationships I needed to get my work done.

  But in reality, I only had Bea.

  Sure, I was around other people all the time socializing, even if most of what I presented to the world — outside of Bea — was nothing but a necessary facade.

  Now, with the lights of the city fading in the rearview mirror and the darkness surrounding the car like a blanket of despair, it took everything I had to fight back tears.

  Which only pissed me off immensely.

  When I’d first landed on the streets at fifteen, I was alone then, too. But it didn’t feel like this. I was full of fire back then. I desperately wanted to please my father, make him proud of me, wherever he was. I knew he was looking down on me back then. Guiding me. Watching out for me.

  I didn’t feel him so strongly anymore.

  I wondered what he would think of me now.

  The highw
ay led me north and I kept going, trying to take stock of everything I still had and everything I’d lost.

  Despite my solitude, I’d made a home in Los Feliz. My apartment was full of things I’d collected in thrift stores and street markets over the years. Leaving it all behind hurt more than I expected it would. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever get back there.

  I had to keep hope alive, I finally decided. I vowed to think of this as a sort of vacation, even though I currently had no destination in mind at all.

  This is when a person needs family.

  I couldn’t trust any of my fake friends. I couldn’t tell Bea and put her at risk, either. I’d never missed my Pop more than right then.

  I yearned for someone to talk to. To tell the truth to. The truth about Artie — about what I’d seen. About what he’d done to me.

  Growing up, I thought Pop was going to be enough.

  He was all I ever knew. After my mother died in childbirth, he tried to be enough. He’d talk about her all the time. Tell me little memories of the two of them together, but I didn’t have any of my own.

  All I’d ever had was him and then, when he was gone — there was nothing else to turn to. Pop didn’t have any family, either, and while Mom had a few distant family members, we were never very close at all.

  In fact, one of Mom’s nieces was a famous international rock star, but I’d only met her once, when we were kids, before anyone even thought about being famous. So, yeah, maybe I had family technically, but Lucky Lazzerini was someone I barely knew. Sure, okay, I guess she was still family, in a technical sense — but it’s not like I could just call her up.

  Could I?

  I mean, it seemed absurd and awkward to even think about it, but right then? All alone on the highway at night with no destination in sight? All alone in the world?

  I played with the idea in my head as I drove. It was tempting, I’ll admit.

  She’d know who I was by name, of course. We’d only played together once, when we were much younger — around seven or so — and we’d exchanged emails and a few Facebook messages over the years. We were friendly.

 

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