Instead of walking in the front door, I motioned to Ax that I was going the other way. He nodded and waved.
I stumbled around the building. Sure enough, the smell of smoke tinged the night air and grew stronger the closer I got to the far side of the club.
The side door was propped open with a brick and light from the hallway cut through the dark. Three ladies stood in coats, puffing away, their smoke mixing with their frosty breath as they exhaled. Two blondes, one brunette.
“Hey,” I said, with a friendly smile.
“Who’re you?” one of the blondes asked.
“Wondered if I could ask you a few questions about Crystal Waters?”
The brunette’s eyes narrowed as she inhaled. She held the cigarette aloft as she angled her mouth to blow smoke in the opposite direction. “Jess said you’ve been coming around, asking about Crystal.”
“Yeah, is Jess working tonight?”
“No,” said one blonde. “She’s on a takeout. Should be back by midnight.”
“A takeout?” I asked.
Blonde Number Two, as distinguished by her hot pink eyelids and matching nails, offered me a cigarette, but I declined. “Takeout is an off-site job, like a bachelor party.”
I was learning all sorts of interesting, useless information. “Do you know the name of Crystal’s sugar daddy?”
“No, she just called him Daddy,” Blonde Number One said.
“Did you guys ever see him?”
The brunette shook her head. “Nope. He paid her bills, took her on trips, said she was going to quit dancing pretty soon. Stupid ho.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Guys always say that,” said Number Two. “They’re going to take you away from this life, buy you a house, marry you. It’s all bullshit. Either they’re trying to live some kind of rescue fantasy or they’re trying to get a blow job.”
Number One nodded. “Truth.”
“Crystal never lets anything slip? What about her friends, does she tell them anything?”
Blonde Number One took a drag. “What friends? No one likes her. She’s a stone cold bitch. Stole girls’ regulars, stole their boyfriends, and offered extras, which made us all look like whores.”
“What about any other boyfriends she might have?”
“Other than Sheik?” The brunette took a long drag. “She stole Diane’s boyfriend right out from under her nose.”
“That wasn’t her nose, and they were engaged. Have a kid together and everything,” Number One said. “Crystal dated him off and on for a year. Said bitchy stuff to Diane as often as she could. Just mean shit.”
“Who’s Diane?” I burrowed into my jacket.
“Diane Myer. You got a card or something I can give her? You’ll get an earful about Crystal.”
I dug out my little notebook and scribbled my number and fake name. “Here you go.” I handed it off to Number One. “What can you tell me about Clay?”
The camaraderie we had going abruptly ended. “Nothing,” said the brunette.
“He’s scares the shit out of me,” said Number Two. “And he makes Freddy give us a quota for drinks and dances, then takes forty-five percent.”
“Shut up,” the brunette said.
“What about the little skinny guy?” I asked.
“Stuart Weiner?” asked Number Two.
The brunette stubbed her cigarette out with the toe of her monster heel. I could tell she didn’t like the way the conversation was going, so I directed my words at Number Two. The chatty one. “What’s Clay’s last name?”
“That’s enough,” said Number One. “We’ll give Diane your number.”
Both the blondes stamped out their smokes and all three of them stepped inside the building, kicking the brick away to shut the door and leave me out in the cold.
I wasn’t much further clue-wise now than I had been. All I knew was that Crystal was some piece of work and the ladies were afraid of Clay. And the skinny guy’s name was Stuart Weiner.
I texted Ax that I was ready to go and made my way to the front of the building. When I was done, I tucked the phone in my coat pocket and sniffed as I turned the corner. The frigid air was making my nose run.
I glanced up and saw Clay walk out of the club, his skinny little friend, Stuart, right behind him. Clay looked up, and when he saw me, he said something to his minion and pointed in my direction.
Oh crap.
Chapter 14
Either Clay remembered seeing me outside Freddy Libra’s office the other night, or Freddy was a big fat tattletale and blabbed that I was asking about Crystal. Whatever, I must have tripped Clay’s wire. Why else would he send Stuart the Weiner Weasel after me?
I started backing away, then turned and ran through the parking lot, using the cars as a shield. I ducked down behind a sedan and peeked over the trunk to watch Stuart slowly troll through the lot, turning his head left and right, like he had all freaking night to find me.
I crouched back down and tried to figure out what to do. But my phone started playing the Star Wars theme song—Axton’s ringtone. Crap.
Despite the traffic zooming along the street twenty yards away and the muted dance music coming from the club, it still seemed really loud. I reached into my pocket and turned it off.
I poked my head up a bit. He stood only four feet away, right in front of the car where I hid. Damn. I slowly crouch walked to the next car, keeping my ears peeled for footsteps.
I kept creeping further away from the club, car by car. But when I got to the fourth car, I stumbled and set off a goddamn alarm. The loud blasts hurt my ears. I prairie dogged over the hood to locate Stuart and he saw me.
I took off running, looking over my shoulder, watching in horror as he gained on me. I darted in between cars and finally hit the center of the lot and pumped my legs as hard as I could. Why did this keep happening—people chasing me in parking lots? It was starting to piss me off.
I faced forward and continued to run, but skidded to a stop when a black SUV braked in front of me. The passenger door flew open and Sullivan sat behind the wheel.
“Get in.”
I stared at him. Where the hell had he come from?
“Get in the fucking car, Rose.”
I snapped out of it and ran the three feet to the car, jumped in, and slammed the door. Sullivan peeled out of the lot with squealing tires and sharp turns that made my stomach lurch.
Once we got on the street and he’d put some distance between us and the club, I glanced over at him. He was several degrees of pissed. With a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, he stared straight ahead, refusing to look at me.
“Thanks,” I said.
He didn’t respond.
“Where are we going?”
Still nothing. And this wasn’t our usual Mexican standoff, this was the silent treatment. But I’d been raised by Barbara Strickland, I could withstand days of silent treatment.
I pulled out my phone and texted Ax that he should drive his car home and I’d call him later.
“Can we stop and pick up a burger or something? I’m starving.”
He did look at me then, his head slowly rotating to glare at me. Even in the dark, I could see a muscle twitch near his eye. Then he focused on the road once again.
I wondered if he’d been following me. I also wondered where Henry, his trusty sidekick-slash-bodyguard was tonight. But if I asked him right now, he’d just freeze me out. And I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Sullivan drove through the seamier part of town to a large brick building in the middle of an abandoned industrial neighborhood. He touched a button on his keychain and a door slid open. After he pulled the SUV inside, the door slid shut behind us.
“What is this place?” I un
buckled my seatbelt and peered through the windshield. The space was huge with brick walls and concrete floors. An old factory. “What do you do here?”
He turned off the ignition, then reached over and hauled me onto his lap.
I gasped and grabbed his lapels in response. His orange and sandalwood scent filled my senses. I looked up into his eyes and they were as dark as I’d ever seen them. And he was still mad.
He cupped my head and kissed me hard on the mouth. His tongue stroked mine. It wasn’t a sweet, romantic kiss. No, this kiss was aggressive and punishing. He poured all of his anger into it, into me.
And I loved every freaking second of it.
I tunneled my fingers through his soft hair and tried to kiss him back, but he was too damn domineering, wouldn’t let me reciprocate. So I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the ride.
When he finally came up for air, he thrust me back in my seat and slammed out of the car.
I did the same and scurried to catch up to him. He walked through the large room, toward the back and down a narrow hallway where he opened a door. Inside, Henry sat behind a bank of monitors that showed the perimeter of the building from various angles.
He frowned at me. “What’s she doing here?”
“See anything?”
“No.” Henry turned his gaze back to the monitors.
Sullivan shoved me back into the hallway. He strode further along the darkened corridor to a room on the right.
He flipped a switch and light flooded the cavernous space. It was my apartment times three, and all it contained was a metal desk, a laptop, and a sofa angled in one corner.
Sullivan moved behind the desk, typed on the keyboard, ignoring me. Did he plan on keeping me prisoner here? Well that wasn’t going to happen. I had things to do, people to question, lunch to serve.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked.
He still ignored me.
I hoisted my purse higher on my shoulder and walked out of the room. This was a crappy neighborhood, but Ax would come and get me. No worries.
I pulled out my phone and began a text, when he plucked the phone from my fingers.
I pivoted and glared at Sullivan. “Give it back.” I glanced from his face to his clothes. He wore a smooth black sweater and dark jeans.
“No.” He shoved the phone in his front pocket.
“You can give it back or I can take it back.”
If he thought I wouldn’t fish my hand in there and retrieve it, he was in for a big surprise.
I probably was, too.
“Now that might be interesting.” He was still pissed, but there was a little twinkle in his eye. He was laughing at me. I hated it when he did that.
“I need to get out of here. Now, I can walk, but this is a very bad neighborhood and I know you don’t want me to do that. I can call Ax to come and pick me up, but then he’d know the whereabouts of your secret bat cave. Or you could drive me home.”
He crossed his arms. “Option four: I keep you here and out of my way.”
I wasn’t that wild about option four, but I wouldn’t put it past him. I thrust my hands in my coat pockets and stared at him.
He stared back.
Oh good Lord, this could have gone on all night, so to expedite things, I gave in first. “Sullivan, cut the bullshit and tell me what’s going on. Why were you at the strip club tonight? Were you following me? And why is Henry all black ops in that room instead of hauling your ass around town, like he always does? Who’s been following you and taking notes? Where did the money come from? And where are all your other henchmen?”
“Henchmen?”
“Yes, henchmen. Where are they?”
He shifted his stance, his eyes hardened. “I cut everyone loose except for Henry.”
“Why?” My brain began churning. Why would Sullivan get rid of his muscle? Someone was watching his every move. Someone who worked for him? “Did they turn on you? Is the hit an inside job? How do you know you can trust Henry? I never liked him.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.” He sighed. “Come back in the office and we’ll talk.” Without waiting to see if I followed, he walked away.
Of course I trailed him. He still had my phone after all. I parked on the nubby green sofa and crossed my legs. “So, talk.”
He sat down next to me, hunched forward, his hands dangling between his knees. “I wasn’t following you. I came to the club for other reasons and saw you flying through the parking lot being chased by Stuart.”
“Stuart Weiner?”
He raised a brow at me. “You’ve been very busy.”
“Yes, and I’m not going to stop until the prosecutor drops the charges on Janelle.” And until Sullivan was safe. But I didn’t want to cop to that one. At least not out loud.
I studied his tension-filled face and bloodshot eyes. “When was the last time you slept?”
He laughed. “Don’t remember.”
“Tell me about Clay,” I said.
He lounged back against the sofa as he rubbed his eyes. “Not much to tell.”
“Why is he always at the strip club?”
I was cold now. I buttoned my too thin coat and pulled on my one glove, shoving my bare hand under my arm.
“He owns it. And he likes to keep a finger in every pie.”
“I thought Freddy Libra owned it,” I said.
“Freddy’s a shill.”
“The strippers are afraid of Clay. They won’t talk about him.”
He raised a brow at me. “That’s because Clay Davidson is a ruthless motherfucker.”
“You’re not exactly a Sunday school teacher.” I glanced over at him. Up close and personal, I could see the whiskers on his face. I fought against reaching out and rubbing my ungloved palm against the roughness.
“He’d pimp his mother on a street corner if he thought she could make money.”
That was pretty ruthless. And now Clay had seen me twice. Sent Stuart after me. That was a little frightening. “Maybe we should work together,” I said. “Pool our resources? Share information?”
“We have separate agendas. And what resources do you have?” He shook his head. “Besides, you’re a distraction I don’t need.”
I wasn’t sure if I felt flattered or insulted. “You know Asshat’s involved in all this. He had pictures of you, your itinerary. And what about Crystal? She’s been looking for the money, too. Maybe she knows who’s behind the hit?”
He stood. “I don’t think so.”
“Fine. I’ll continue on my own.” Dismissing him, I reached into my purse and pulled out my little notebook. I scribbled in the new info about Clay Davidson and Stuart Weiner.
Sullivan peered over the book. “Is that your crib sheet?”
“I have a hard time keeping track of all the players otherwise.” I snapped it shut and stuck it back in my purse.
He looked amused. “Tell me who the players are in your little drama.”
Now that just pissed me off. “It’s not a little drama, jackass, it’s Janelle’s life.” I hopped up from the sofa and planted myself in front of him. “If I don’t find out who bashed Asshat, she’s going to jail for years. I think Asshat was attacked because of the money. The money that leads back to you and the surveillance stuff I found at his house.”
He sighed. “All right then, tell me everything new.”
I went over Muffler Shop Marcus, Vi, the hairdresser from hell, and Bank Teller Brenda. “Brenda’s husband is a possibility of course, but this doesn’t feel like a jealous husband thing to me. The missing money keeps rearing its head. I think whoever hit Asshat was after it.”
He stared through me. “And you say this Marcus is missing, too?”
“Well, he didn’t turn up for work yesterday.�
�
“Maybe he and Crystal took the money and are in it together. You said he gave her a ride from the strip club.”
“Maybe.” I tapped my chin and paced in front of the sofa. “Why would someone put a hit on you? Who did you piss off?”
He shrugged. “I have a successful business. If I’m out of the way, it’s up for grabs.”
His business? Illegal endeavors was more like it. Sullivan was a criminal. Period. Of course he would be a target for other criminals who wanted to move up the food chain. I forgot sometimes who he was, what he did. “What were you doing tonight at The Bottom Dollar?” I stepped toward him. “It’s Clay, isn’t it? Clay wants you dead. Clay wants your business.”
Sullivan just stared at me.
I placed a hand on his chest. “My God, you’re so stubborn.”
He covered my hand with his own, stroked my wrist.
“Boss.”
We jerked apart and turned our heads toward Henry, who stood in the doorway. “Just heard on the police scanner, the cigar bar is on fire.”
Chapter 15
Sullivan swiftly pulled his phone out of his pocket, realized it was my phone and thrust it at me. I took it and slipped it in my coat pocket while he called someone. “What’s happening?” he asked. “Do you know how it started?” His eyes narrowed as he listened. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up. “I’ve got to go. Henry, stay here, keep watch.” He stormed out of the room and down the hallway. I had to run to keep up with him.
“I’m coming with you,” I said.
“I think I should go with you, too, boss. This sounds like a way to draw you out.” Henry followed us.
“I agree,” I said. “Let Henry drive.”
Sullivan stopped and I ran into his shoulder blade. I rubbed my nose and took two steps back.
“Fine,” Sullivan said.
“Let me grab my stuff,” Henry said.
I wondered if by stuff he meant guns and illegal weapons. I kind of hoped so. Made me feel safer.
I climbed into the backseat of the SUV and Sullivan took shotgun. Henry trotted toward us a moment later, pulling his coat over his brawny shoulders. I caught a glimpse of a holstered gun strapped to his side. He slid behind the wheel and when the factory door slid up, he backed out of the building.
2 Last Diner Standing Page 12
