“Crystal was in the club tonight asking Freddy Libra about the money. Why would Freddy know anything about it? Were Sheik and Freddy friends?”
“Nah, not that I know of. Look, I can’t figure that girl out. She’s half crazy.”
I eyed LD and his black eye. “How did you feel about Sheik buying bling and strippers instead of paying you?” I asked. Had he been angry enough to bash in Sheik’s head? Maybe Sheik hit LD and LD hit back twice as hard.
“I didn’t put Sheik in the hospital, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Janelle huffed. “If you see Chicken Licker again, you tell her to fuck off. That money is for my kids and my lawyer fees, you got it?”
“That’s not my business. I’m not getting in between you and Crystal. That’s suicide, man.”
That damn missing money. It always circled back to that. Roxy and I didn’t find it at Asshat’s house—unless it was so well hidden we missed it. And Crystal didn’t have it because she was in the club tonight asking for money. And maybe it was linked to Sullivan and the surveillance stuff I found in Asshat’s toilet tank.
“Where do you think the money is now?” I asked him.
“No idea. Seems like it’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Is that why you’re sporting the shiner? Somebody wanted it and thought you knew where it was?” Sounded like a reasonable explanation to me.
“I told you, I ain’t talking about that.” He stood. “Y’all need to go.”
Janelle and I left the apartment, and as we walked toward the elevator, I glanced over at her. “So, where would Sheik hide a bunch of money?”
She shot me a look. “You’re assuming that asshole had any left. Probably spent it all on hoes and fake ass ice. Never gave a dollar to his kids. I wish I had hit him. He wouldn’t be in the hospital, he’d be on a slab.”
We climbed into her car and she let it warm up before pulling out of the lot.
“I still think Chicken Licker did it,” she said.
“Then why did she go to The Bottom Dollar and ask Freddy about the money?”
“Hell, I don’t know. But if I had any money, I’d put it on her.”
After Janelle pulled into her driveway, I climbed out of the passenger seat and waved goodbye, before hopping into Ax’s car. While I waited for the heater to kick in, I pulled the pictures of Sullivan and the detailed notes out of my purse. I had a really bad feeling about this. Missing money. Surveillance info. I knew I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.
According to the notes, Sullivan spent the last two Tuesday nights from nine p.m. to two a.m. at Penn’s Cigar Bar. He was going to be pissed I didn’t tell him about this right away. Especially after he ponied up for Janelle’s bail. But the longer I put it off, the harder it’d be.
I called and told him to expect me in fifteen minutes, then I drove to the one story brick building. With its arched, leaded windows it looked more like a church than a bar. A blazing fire burned in a brick fireplace along one wall and a long bar took up another. Thick, rich cigar smoke hung in the air. Roxy would be in heaven.
It was busy for a Tuesday night. Mostly couples occupied the wooden tables, and a piano player tinkled the ivories in one corner.
Henry, Sullivan’s henchman, met me at the door. Henry scared the ever loving crap out of me. He was a giant, close to seven feet. His crooked nose never quite recovered from getting punched a few too many times and a scar stood in relief next to his left eye.
“Follow me,” he said.
“I guess we’re going to skip the chitchat, huh?” I followed his broad back past the bar, down a hall to the last room on the left. Henry opened the door to an office. A nicely appointed one with no windows and heavy, masculine furniture.
Sullivan sat behind a massive desk. Hotter than a bonfire on the fourth of July. Runner of an illegal gambling operation. Object of more than one erotic dream. He glanced up when the door opened and studied me with his gold eyes.
He was gorgeous. Warm, honeyed skin and strong cheekbones. Black hair brushed away from his flawless face. Yeah, gorgeous almost covered it.
“Hello, Rose.”
I barely heard the door close behind me. “Hey.”
He stood and walked toward me. He circled me, sliding his hands beneath the back collar of my coat. His long fingers brushed my nape, sending shivers over every part of my body. When he leaned forward, his chest touched my back. “Whatever got you here, it must be important,” he said in my ear.
“Kind of, yeah.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to come to me.” He slowly pulled the coat from my shoulders and down my arms. I spun to watch him casually toss it over his brown leather desk chair. “Want a drink?” He reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a nearly empty squat bottle. It carried a fancy foreign label. Snagging two glasses off a shelf, he walked past me to a round table at the other end of the room. He was all lithe grace and smooth moves. “Please, sit.”
It wasn’t a request.
I walked to the table, slid into a chair. He did the same.
He poured a small amount of liquor into both glasses. Handed me one.
“Is this whiskey?” I sniffed.
“No, I remember you don’t like it.” His eyes met mine as he leaned back.
I took an experimental sip. It was fiery and burned its way down my throat, but it wasn’t unpleasant. “What is it?”
“Brandy.”
I took another sip. “Now that’s a good stripper name.”
He raised a dark brow. “Do you need a stripper name?”
“You don’t happen to own The Bottom Dollar, do you?” Sullivan owned a lot of businesses around town, many of them bars like this one.
“Not yet, why?”
“Arrogant.”
“It’s not arrogance if it’s true.” He smirked. Arrogantly.
I nibbled my lip. “I’ve got a story to tell you. No interruptions until I’m through.”
He narrowed his eyes a bit and nodded. “All right. It’s your show.”
“As you know, my friend, Janelle, was accused of putting her ex-husband, Asshat, in a coma.”
His lips edged up in the corners.
“Asshat is a ladies man. And a few days before his argument with Janelle, he went to The Bottom Dollar and was throwing money around. But Asshat doesn’t have a job.” I shook my head. “At least not on the books. So where did he get all that money? Anyway, at the strip club, he got a lap dance from every girl there, except his ex-girlfriend, Chicken Licker.”
Sullivan held up a hand. “I have to stop you there. Why Chicken Licker?”
“Because she and Asshat ate chicken and diddled each other in Janelle’s bed. At the same time.”
He paused. “That’s a disturbing image.”
I grinned. “You mean you don’t eat during sex?” As soon as the teasing words left my mouth, I realized what I had said. I pushed the glass away. No more brandy for me.
“No.” His deep voice lowered to a husky timber. He shifted in his chair and leaned his arms on the table. “I’m far too busy putting my mouth to better use.”
Oh. My. God. I couldn’t talk, could hardly breathe. My gaze tangled with his and my face heated. I licked my dry lips and tried to focus my thoughts.
“Are you going to finish your story?” He raised a brow as he leaned back.
I cleared my throat. “He and Chicken Licker got in a fight. She was thrown out of the club, lost her job. Then Asshat got his head bashed in. And I think Crystal is still looking for the money.”
“Are Crystal and Chicken Licker one and the same?”
I nodded. “Yesterday, Roxy and I went to Asshat’s house, looking for any clue as to who did this to him, because of course, Janelle’s compl
etely innocent.”
“Of course,” he murmured. He stroked his chin with one finger and watched me.
Bending down to the floor, I grabbed my purse and dug out the papers and pictures. My eyes found his. Okay, Rose, time to cowboy up.
“I found these hidden in Asshat’s house. Stuffed in his toilet.” When I handed them to him, our fingers barely touched. Still, it was enough to feel a sharp tug of attraction in the pit of my stomach.
He read the notes, his jaw tightening with every second that passed. Then he looked at the photos. The skin around his compressed lips turned white.
Like I said. Pissed.
“When did you find these?”
“Sunday,” I said, grimacing.
“And you kept this from me?” he ground out.
“Hey, you’ve kept shit from me before.” That was no excuse, but it was true.
He rose from the table so quickly, it startled me. He strode to the door like a large tiger, eating up the short distance before pivoting on his heel and stalking back.
As he moved toward me, I scrambled from my seat and backed myself into a corner. I wanted to get out of his way, but I was out of room unless I climbed the walls. Still he advanced, stopping in front of me, his chest touching mine.
Leaning one hand on the wall behind me, he pressed himself into me. He was breathing hard, almost panting. I focused on the knot in his tie. Real silk, dark teal. He shook the papers with his free hand. “Do you know what this is? Look at me, goddamn it.” He never raised his voice, but anger coated his words in ice.
I slowly raised my eyes to his. His pupils had constricted, and his eyes, light gold a moment ago, were dark with rage. Color suffused his cheeks, leaving them ruddy. He let go of the wall and grabbed my chin, tilting my head up further. “Someone’s been following me, knows my every fucking move, and you didn’t tell me.”
I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. This man had helped me more than once. I owed him, not just money, I owed him my loyalty. He was right, I should have told him, shouldn’t have turned this into a game of one-upmanship.
With my fingertips, I touched the back of his hand that gripped my chin. “I’m sorry. I wanted to find out more before I showed you. I was wrong.”
In that instant, everything changed between us. The air became charged with a potency that left me breathless and the moment stretched into something more than our usual flirtatious, witty banter. We simply stared into each other’s eyes and I felt connected to him somehow.
Then he blinked twice and stepped away, dropping my chin and the connection. Maybe I was the only one who felt it, but I didn’t think so.
Taking a deep breath, he turned away from me and strode back to his chair. “Now start again. From the beginning.”
I fell into the seat and went over everything again, including Asshat’s brother, LD, and Marcus and breaking into Crystal’s condo. I told him about my conversation with Jess, the stripper. “And two men went into Freddy Libra’s office. A bald man and a skinny guy. Freddy called one of them Clay. Probably Baldy. It seemed like he was in charge.”
He stilled.
“Who’s Clay?” I asked.
“Finish your story.”
“No. I want to know who Clay is.”
He leaned forward, his face close, his voice low. “Here’s how it’s going to work. I give you ten thousand dollars bail money and you answer my questions.”
My gaze travelled over his too handsome face. A dark shadow covered his jaw line and being this close I could see a little scar in the shape of a half circle on his chin. “Some guy named Clay waltzed into Freddy Libra’s office like he owned it. Someone’s been following you and watching your every move. Asshat steals shit, usually cars, and suddenly has a windfall. I think Asshat stole from the wrong person. Found the money and the surveillance pics and the notes. I think you have a hit out on you. Am I right?”
“I think it’s likely.”
“So who is this Clay guy?”
He stood and removed my coat from his chair. “I’d tell you not to get involved, but we both know you’ll do whatever the hell you want.” He held the coat out for me.
Well, I guess our special time together was over.
I stood and slipped my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. I faced him, ready to say something snarky before I left, when his arm snaked around my waist and he pulled me close. “Be careful.” He leaned down and softly kissed the corner of my mouth. I almost came on the spot. If he could do that with a tiny kiss…
“And if you get in my way,” he said, “I’ll remove you.”
Did I take that threat seriously? Yeah. Yeah, I did. Sullivan had a soft spot for me, but he wouldn’t let that override his own sense of self-preservation. Business came first. Didn’t mean I was going to stop, though.
He pulled back and opened the door for me. “Goodnight, Rose.”
Chapter 11
The next morning at the diner, while Roxy and I made coffee and refilled salt shakers, Ma ran around putting the final touches on chicken pot pies. Although her bright red lipstick matched her Mrs. Claus sweatshirt, it looked a little wonky—like she applied it without a mirror. Or in the dark.
“I’ve made twenty pies since last night, girls. Hopefully we’ll have a good crowd today.” She parked on one of the stools and cradled her cup of coffee. “I didn’t realize how tiring this lunch business would be.”
“Hasn’t Ray been helping?” Roxy asked.
“All he does is moan and gripe about the extra work. It’s easier to do it myself.”
I’d known Ray five years, and in all that time, I’ve heard maybe fifty words out of the man. Moaning and griping? Couldn’t imagine it. Maybe he just grunted twice as loud?
“I talked to Sullivan last night,” I said.
Ma pursed her lips in disapproval. “I don’t like that man, and even though he helped you out, and I’ll always be grateful, I still don’t like him. Don’t trust him, neither.”
“He’s uber hot,” Roxy said. “I saw a picture of him. No wonder Rose is all smitten kitten.”
I set down the salt and placed my hands on the counter. “I am not smitten. And do you want to know what I found out or what?”
Roxy glanced at Ma and wiggled her eyebrows. “Someone’s got it bad,” she whispered.
“Fine. Never mind.” I went back to pouring salt with my nose in the air.
“Just tell us, toots. I’m not getting any younger over here.”
I caved and told them about the hit on Sullivan.
Roxy put her hands on her hips. For some unfathomable reason, a stuffed unicorn the size of a football was sewn onto her blue skirt. “If people are gunning for Sullivan, you’d better steer clear of him.”
Ma frowned. “That sounds like good advice, toots.”
It probably was. Didn’t mean I had to take it, though.
Our early customers started trickling in, so we quit yapping and got to work. Ma found the new kid hiding behind the desk in the office and forced him into the chicken suit.
By our mid-morning slowdown, Ma strode back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. Ray walked to the counter with my omelet and Roxy’s cinnamon roll.
“Ungh. Can’t use oven. Driving me nuts,” he mumbled. That was practically a soliloquy.
“Just tell her, Ray,” I said. “Tell her you don’t want to do lunch.”
“Ungh.” He stalked back to the kitchen.
Roxy’s blue eyes grew wide. “I’ve never seen Ray that pissed. Not even when Ma wanted to put plastic spiders on the fried eggs for Halloween.” That hadn’t gone over too well with the customers, either.
I was about to take a mouthful of omelet when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the number. “Good morning, Mother. How are you this bl
essed day?”
“We’re having brunch at the club on Saturday. Ten o’clock.”
“Good for you. You go, girl.” I forked a bite of eggs into my mouth.
“Rosalyn, do not try my patience. I’m still irritated you left my party without saying goodbye. I have not forgotten.”
“I don’t understand the brunch announcement,” I said, after I’d swallowed.
I heard her take a deep breath. “You are coming with us. To brunch. On Saturday. At ten o’clock.”
“I have to work.” As she should know, since I’d worked every Saturday for oh, the last five freaking years.
“You can miss one day.”
“Actually, I can’t.”
“Fine. Dinner tomorrow night. Seven on the dot. Don’t be late.”
“But—” I heard a click. After I shoved the phone back in my pocket, I realized I’d been played. Of course she knew I had to work. But she also knew her opening salvo would be rejected. Man, she was good. Still, I had other things to do. Getting Janelle cleared was on the top of my list. Finding out who wanted to kill Sullivan, a close second. Castigation over dinner? Not so much.
“Your mom needs to unclench that ass and live a little,” Roxy said. She unwound the cinnamon roll until it was one long strip. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
After I finished eating, I called Ax.
“Axman. Speak.”
“Hey, I have two more peeps for you to look up. Marcus Walker, works at the muffler place on the Boulevard. And some bald guy named Clay. Knows Freddy Libra.”
“That’s it? Bald and Clay?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I accept your challenge, Rose Strickland. And if I dig anything up, I’ll bring it over tonight. I got a new movie, Invaders from Mars.”
“Can’t wait. I should be home by five. I’m still looking into things with Janelle.” I hung up and got back to work.
Things picked up that afternoon and didn’t slow down until after three. My feet ached and my tips weren’t much better than they usually were. Mostly because people didn’t like to tip on a freebie meal. Those buy one get one specials were bringing people in, but I wasn’t sure how much extra money Ma was generating.
2 Last Diner Standing Page 9
