Beneath These Chains

by Meghan March

  “Sounds like your ma can’t be too happy. Why doesn’t she leave him?”

  Elle stared out the window. “She’s scared, I think. No way to provide for herself—and that was if she were sober. No one would hire her the way she drinks.”

  “She wasn’t always like that though, right?”

  “A drunk? No. That was a new development after she got remarried, but it escalated really freaking fast. She can’t control it. It’s part of the reason I don’t trust myself to stop.”

  “You aren’t your ma, Elle. Not even close.”

  She didn’t reply.

  We drove the rest of the way to Chains with the only sound in the car the Rolling Stones. I didn’t have anything against the Stones, but I didn’t like the way Elle had drawn into herself.

  “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “Just thinking about that douche and his crazy collection. How many Kama Sutras does one guy really need?”

  I forced a laugh, because she was changing the subject on purpose. I decided to let her. “Good point.”

  “You know he had to be compensating for having a tiny penis. That’s the only explanation I could honestly come up with. Which means you were basically preempted from being able to buy it, because you do not have a tiny penis.”

  I resisted the urge to grab my dick. It was a guy thing; don’t ask me why.

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get the chance to bid. I’d hate to have to prove my manhood to you.”

  “I guess I should’ve let you buy it so you would’ve been forced to. Regularly and enthusiastically. Damn. What was I thinking?” Elle joked.

  I was going to have to work harder to fuck the sass right out of the woman—that was clear. But goddamn if we weren’t going to enjoy the hell out of it.

  Multiple orgasms were a fantastic way to start the day, but unfortunately the happy buzz drained out of me as soon as the chauffer-driven Mercedes pulled up in front of Chains. Arnie, my mother’s driver, came around to open the back door, and I wasn’t entirely sure, but I thought he shot a look of sympathy toward the window.

  Shit.

  My mother swooped out of the car, luckily on Tory Burch flats and not heels, because I could tell from the slight wobble to her walk she’d already had a few.

  Lord had headed back to the office to take a call, but Mathieu was dusting the rack of guitars by the front door.

  I really don’t want an audience for this.

  “Mathieu, why don’t you—”

  The chime above the door cut off my words.

  “You’ve got to be joking. This cannot be the right place. There’s no way that Eleanor would lower herself to work in this dump.”

  I hated when she called me Eleanor. Hated it.

  Mathieu’s head snapped up. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  My mother’s nose wrinkled like she smelled something rotten. “I sincerely doubt it.” Her eyes scanned the shop and zeroed in on me. “Really, Eleanor. This cannot possibly be where you’ve been spending your time. That dirty little place in the Vieux Carré was bad enough, but this—are you out of your mind?”

  Her shrill voice carried enough to have Lord coming up from the back hall into the main shop.

  His presence produced another nose wrinkle and a sharp glance at me. “Don’t tell me that this is the proprietor.”

  “Can we help you with something, ma’am?”

  It was nearly the same question Mathieu had just asked, but with this one my mother decided to get creative in her answer. “Yes, please fire Eleanor so I can collect her and her belongings and get out of this disgusting place.”

  A muscle ticked in Lord’s jaw, but he kept his words light “You didn’t tell me your name was Eleanor, sweet thing. That’s First Lady material right there.”

  The disgusted sound that came out of my mother’s mouth was truly unladylike. “He calls you a pet name? Please tell me you’re not sleeping with the man. That’d be just—”

  “Ma’am, I’d suggest you stop right there.” All the easiness had left his tone.

  “Mathieu, could you give us a minute?” I asked.

  He nodded and walked toward the back room. Twenty bucks said he’d be listening anyway, but at least I didn’t have to see the respect fade from his eyes when my mother unloaded whatever tirade she was about to unleash.

  Lord wasn’t waiting for that to happen. He stalked to the door of the shop and opened it. “Hey, sir. I think it’s time you collect your passenger and take her home. She’s overstayed her welcome—if she ever had one.”

  Through the barred glass window, I saw Arnie’s head jerk up and the look of shock bloom on his face. Apparently he hadn’t been ready for Lord’s brand of honesty. I was assuming my mother wasn’t ready for it either.

  “And I’ll be taking my daughter with me.”

  “No way in hell,” I snapped.

  She tossed her hair. “Charming language, Eleanor. I guess that’s what you get for sleeping with the lowest common denominator.”

  Her attacks on Lord continued to stoke my rage. I fisted my hands at my side, trying to hold back. Fuck it—

  But Lord intervened again. “Go sleep it off, lady. You’re not impressing anyone here.”

  Thankfully, my mother huffed out the door. “You’re just hurting yourself. Don’t think he won’t—”

  Lord slammed the door. I didn’t need to hear her finish; I knew what her warning was. Denton wouldn’t let this stand. I shoved it away. Denton couldn’t do a damn thing to me.

  “You okay, sweet thing?”

  I looked up at Lord’s quiet words. I decided to go the route of perfect honesty. “I think so. At least she wasn’t slurring and stumbling. She’s not all the way through her first bottle, if I had to guess, which makes today my lucky day?” I couldn’t help making that last bit a question.

  “Your ma’s a real piece of work.”

  “That’s putting it lightly.”

  “Whatever issues she’s carrying, they’re hers to deal with, not yours.”

  “I don’t know about that. Since I can’t pretend she doesn’t exist, pretty much all of her issues bleed over onto me eventually.”

  “No more. She doesn’t touch you. Ever. None of her bitterness touches you again. I’m not having it.”

  “You can’t just wave a magic wand and make my mother disappear. Besides,” I added quietly, “she’s not the one I’d make disappear if I had my choice.”

  Crossing to stand in front of me, Lord took my hand. His thumb rubbed over the back of it, and I appreciated both the soothing gesture and the connection between us.

  “Your stepdad is the one you’d want gone.”

  “Got it in one.”

  “He fucks with you, he’ll find an early and uncomfortable end.”

  The last person you want walking in on a threat to end someone is a cop. Especially the cop you once considered a friend but had already dragged you down to the station for questioning about one murder—which was where I’d been the morning Jiminy had crossed the line to fuck with Elle. I was still thankful Hennessy had wrapped up his questions as quickly as he had or I might not have been back in time to show Jiminy his interest was wholly unwelcome.

  “Lord.”

  “Hennessy.”

  “You want to elaborate on what you were just saying?”

  “Figure of speech.”

  The detective’s eyes narrowed on me. “That ain’t making me feel a hell of a lot better, because I’ve got some more questions for you.”

  “Told you everything I knew about Bree,” I said.

  “Ain’t here about Bree.”

  Then what the hell? “No new guns in on pawn the last couple days, so what do you need?”

  “You know a guy who went by the name Jiminy?”

  My hand, still closed around Elle’s, tensed at the use of the word went.

  “He’s one of Rix’s guys. Low level gangbanger.”

  Hennessy pulled a small pad out
of his inside front pocket. “He was one of Rix’s guys. And I’m going to need your alibi for seven AM, two days ago.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  Elle sucked in a breath. “Holy shit.”

  Hennessy’s eyes darted to her. “You knew him too.”

  “She don’t know jack shit, man.”

  “I wasn’t asking you, Lord. I think the lady can speak for herself.”

  “She didn’t know him. I’m the one who tossed his ass on the ground when he tried hassling her. You want someone with a motive, you talk to me.”

  “H—How did he die?” Elle asked.

  Shit, it was a question I really didn’t want to discuss in front of her. She didn’t need to be part of this. Didn’t need to be exposed to this side of life. Hennessy only paused for a beat before answering.

  “Same way as Bree. Shot in the back. Same caliber. Lab is analyzing the bullet now, but since I’ve been doing this job for a while, I’m going out on a limb to guess that it was the same gun.” Hennessy looked at me. “Which is why I’m here. Because it seems like you’ve got a connection to both.”

  Years of creeping behind enemy lines helped me keep my cool. “You bringing me in?”

  He slapped his notebook against his other palm. “Should I be?”

  Fuck. It wasn’t like I had any confidence or faith in the justice system. Innocent people went to prison all the damn time.

  As the thought flipped through my brain, Hennessy studied my every move. If he was so fucking good at his job, he’d realize he was barking up the wrong tree. But even I knew that this looked bad.

  “If I tell you you’re looking the wrong way, aren’t I going to look more like a suspect?” I asked.

  Elle sucked in a breath, and her nails dug into my hand. I was pretty sure it was the sound and gesture for shut the fuck up.

  Hennessy spoke, and I got the impression he was choosing his words carefully, “I think it’d be in your best interest to call your lawyer before you come down to the station for more questions.”

  Lead settled in my gut. The man had known me for a couple years, and he had suspicions. Didn’t look good.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “I’ll be in touch. Tomorrow. Consider this a courtesy. But don’t leave town.”

  Courtesy, my ass. He just wanted to see my face when I heard about Jiminy.

  I dropped my eyes to Elle’s pale face, and thought about how to reassure her. But my phone buzzed in my jeans, interrupting any attempt.

  I pulled it out and looked. Con. Normally he texted. Only rarely did he call—my radar went up instantly.

  I looked at Elle as I answered, “What’s going on?”

  “We got a problem. I need you to get to Tulane Medical Center ASAP.”

  I went deadly calm and still. “What the fuck the happened?”

  “Damien caught a drive-by bullet. Not fatal, but not good. I’m two hours away, but heading back.”

  “I’ll be there in ten,” I replied, already turning for the door.

  “There’s more,” Con said. “They’re saying it was Cantrell’s older brother. He’s one of Rix’s guys. We got a powder keg, and the boys are choosing sides.”

  “Fuck me. I’ll be there in five.”

  Waiting was endless. I didn’t know nearly enough about the boys from the gym to put a face on the one who was right now lying in the hospital, but I did know that a bullet from a drive-by was all-too-often fatal. Apparently Con had said it wasn’t, but still … who knew with a gunshot wound, right?

  I had nothing to distract me from thinking about it, and an untamed imagination was a dangerous thing.

  In Lord’s hurry to leave, he’d tried to talk me into going back to his place, but Mathieu and I had convinced him I was safer here. So I helped customer after customer as they came in to the store. Luckily, no Rix—and my mother didn’t make another appearance either. Mathieu never left my side.

  “So what’s your story, kid?” I asked as the door shut behind the last customer. As much as I’d worked with him, we really hadn’t chatted much. He was an odd duck. Loud and mouthy around Lord, but quiet and reserved around me.

  “Don’t have much of a story. At least not one worth talkin’ ’bout.”

  “Come on, everyone’s got a story.”

  He grunted, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to interpret that. “My mom was a crack addict, so Gran raised me. She died when I was twelve, and I ended up in shit foster home after shit foster home. Ran when I was sixteen. Started stealing so I could eat. That’s how I met Lord. I’d been getting by, but I needed bigger shit. So I tried to rip off a guitar. He gave me a choice—cops or work. I ain’t stupid, despite the fact that I was stealing. So I picked work. Lived with him for a while before I started rentin’ a place across the street. Would definitely be dead or in prison if he hadn’t helped me out. Owe him everything. He’s the only family I got. We take care of each other.”

  Wow. The matter-of-fact recital hit me like darts to the heart—especially because it was so close to Lord’s story. No wonder he’d taken the kid in and given him a choice and a place to live. Lord probably identified with everything Mathieu had been through.

  The boy turned and left the main section of the shop before I could think up an appropriate response, and the click of the office door shutting followed.

  I guess that meant I’d be hanging out by myself this afternoon…

  The door chimed, and I looked up.

  Rix.

  Of course. His timing was—as ever—impeccable.

  “The cop been here?”

  He didn’t have to elaborate for me to know exactly what he was talking about.

  “Yeah. He was here. But I don’t think Lord will be pleased that you’re here.”

  Something I wasn’t even sure could be called a smile crossed his face. “You’re the only woman I’ve met who has no problem giving me lip. Most won’t even look me in the eye.”

  “Maybe if you weren’t such a scary motherfucker, you wouldn’t have such a hard time getting a lady.”

  His mouth curved into a more definite imitation of a smile, and he shook his head. “Lord still claiming you?”

  I straightened, throwing my shoulders back and chin up. Rix’s gaze dropped to my chest. Oops. Didn’t mean to call attention to the boobs.

  “Eyes up here, man,” I snapped.

  His narrowed. “Tell me you’re ready for a real man, and I promise I’ll tame that sassy mouth of yours.”

  “I’ve got a real man, thanks. One who actually appreciates my sassy mouth.”

  “You tempt the fuck out of me, woman. If I didn’t know he’d take my head, I’d take you home.”

  The take my head comment was a little unnerving, but I supposed it made me feel better to know that Rix wasn’t a threat to me because he did fear Lord’s retaliation. Jesus, this law of the streets thing was really freaking confusing.

  The smile faded from his face. “What’d the cop say?”

  “Not much.”

  “Your man going downtown to answer questions?”

  I really didn’t feel like it was my place to offer up details. Whatever Lord was or wasn’t doing was his business.

  “I don’t know.” The answer was arguably honest, because I really didn’t know.

  Rix leaned over the counter, and his voice dropped to low and dangerous levels. “I can tell you this—when I figure out who did in my boy, shit will get bloody.”

  A cold shiver snaked down my spine. “That’s not something you should be telling me, just FYI.” I fought hard to keep my voice from shaking, and I succeeded … mostly. “Besides, I hear your boys are out spraying bullets around innocent kids. Like the one in the hospital right now.”

  Rix’s expression darkened. “The fuck you talking about?”

  Uh oh. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  “That’s a serious fucking accusation. You better have some back up for it.”


  I became acutely aware of how empty my hands were and how far away I was from any kind of protection. I needed to acquire a filter so I wouldn’t get myself into these kinds of situations. This wasn’t my issue. Why did I decide to make it my issue?

  I had to say something. His crazy silver eyes were boring holes in me. “Uhh … Lord’s at the ER with one of his boxing kids. They said he caught a bullet in a drive-by. One that some other kid’s brother was a part of. And maybe he was one of your guys?”

  “Give me a fucking name.”

  I swallowed, feeling like I’d be signing someone’s death warrant if I gave him a name.

  “I don’t know anything else.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not just giving you a name. I don’t know what you’ll—”

  “That’s right. You don’t fucking know what I’ll do.” His eyebrows angled into furious slashes. “Give me a fucking name.”

  I shook my head. “I think you should leave now.”

  Rix took a step closer to the case. “You’re lucky I like you, Red. Anyone else, I’d be getting the information I needed the hard way.”

  He pushed off the counter, and strode to the door without another word.

  Cold invaded my chest and spread through my limbs.

  This time, Rix scared the ever-loving hell out of me.

  I needed to tell Lord he’d been here, but I didn’t want to distract him.

  Mathieu came out from the back room, stomping toward me. “Was that Rix? Again? Lord’s gonna be fucking pissed I wasn’t out here. Shit.”

  “It’s okay. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

  Mathieu studied me. “Fuck, what’d he say? You’re whiter than you normally are.”

  I shook my head. “He didn’t say much. But … I … uh … might’ve mentioned that we think one of his guys shot one of Lord and Con’s boys in a drive-by.”

  Mathieu stilled. “You fucking didn’t.”

  “I … ummm … did.”

  “You accused one of his guys?”

  “I said it was what I’d heard. That’s all.”

  “He threaten you?”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “Not really. I don’t think so.”