by Jessie Cooke
“Nope, and act surprised when you hear all of this from the investigating officers, okay?”
“Yeah, speaking of piss-ants,” Wolf said. “What’s his name?”
“Jerry Brown.”
“Fuck, even his name is boring. If I was him I think I’da turned the gun on myself.”
David laughed again. “No criminal record either. They had to pull his prints from DMV.”
“Fuck! What the fuck did I do to this guy? What does he do for a living? Was he hurting for cash?”
“They’re still checking out his bank accounts. He makes a pretty good living, though. He’s a buyer for Barney’s...”
“Who’s Barney?” Dax and David both laughed. Smoke actually broke a smile. “What?”
“Barney’s is a big-name department store...guy was a men’s fashion buyer. He travels to all the fashion events in New York, Milan, France and picks out clothes to sell at Barney’s. He’s been there about ten years and pulls in close to three hundred grand a year plus expenses. He owns a house in the Bluffs up toward the Sierra Nevadas. I don’t know if it’s been recently mortgaged or if he’s in any kind of big debt. The officers investigating will look into his background a lot more deeply to see if he was on the hook for gambling debts or anything, but right now, that’s all we got.”
“Married?”
“Nope.”
“Kids?”
“Nope.”
“Fuck, maybe he was on a suicide mission—who could blame him?”
David smiled, and Dax said, “There is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, Zack was in the city today and I sent him over to Barney’s to see if he could find any of his co-workers willing to talk to him. Of course there was a lady who took a shine to Zack, and according to her, this Jerry guy wasn’t one to socialize much, but every Friday night he was a regular at the Library.”
That got Wolf’s attention. “The speakeasy, you mean, right?”
The Library was a place in downtown Fresno, a throwback to the old speakeasies during the prohibition years. The only way to gain entrance was by guessing the correct password, which was changed nightly. It wasn’t Wolf’s kind of place, but when he first met Amara, it was one of her favorite hangouts. She took him there once and he felt completely out of place, but that was also where she first introduced him to “the game,” so he had mixed feelings about it.
“You been there?” Dax said. Dax Marshall was perceptive enough to pick up on what Wolf wasn’t saying.
“Once. My old lady used to spend a lot of time there.”
“Manson mentioned something about her old man...” David began.
“I fucking told Manson already that if it was her father he would have, number one, made sure he didn’t send some dumb fuck in when I was with his daughter, and number two, he would have made sure to send someone that would make me dead. Besides, I don’t like the old man, but we’ve got no real beef, me and him. As long as his girl is happy, which she is, he and I get along as well as can be expected.”
“And you’re not buying this might have been someone gunning for Amara, to settle some kind of score with the old man?”
“No...fuck...I don’t know. I guess anything is possible. But again, I can’t see them sending in an amateur.”
“Well, Davidson and his partner are looking into this guy like I said, so I’ll keep an ear to the ground and see if anything else turns up.”
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it,” Wolf told him. He looked at Dax then and said, “I appreciate your help too, Southie.”
Dax’s cheek twitched but his expression didn’t change. Those same blue eyes that his little brother had just looked at Wolf with an hour before stared out of Dax’s face, expressionless. After a long pause he said, “No problem. We still on for the meeting Saturday night?” They had postponed the meet and greet between the clubs after the shooting. Dax offered to host it at his ranch in Boston and pay for the Westside boys to travel out, but Wolf had too much pride to accept. It was his deal and they would party in his house, on his turf.
“We’re on,” Wolf said, standing up. “As long as I don’t get shot again.”
David laughed. Dax actually smiled like the thought amused or intrigued him and of course, Smoke didn’t make a sound. Wolf looked at him and said, “You ready?” Smoke nodded at him and then at Dax and David and the two men left the coffee shop where they’d met up with the Skulls president and his brother-in-law. When they got out to their bikes Wolf said:
“We need to make a stop on the way back to the house.” Smoke nodded. Wolf almost regretted bringing him and leaving Manson with Jake; at least Manson would have some input...of course Manson gave his input if Wolf wanted to hear it or not, so sometimes Smoke’s silence was preferable.
They got on their bikes and before Wolf put his kickstand up he had to pop a pain pill. His chest was killing him and he had a feeling that he wasn’t doing his wounds any favors by bouncing around on the bike. Amara had been pissed at him when he left that morning and if he pulled any stitches, she’d be even more pissed when he got back. But Wolf had been riding since he was big enough to hold up a little Honda 50, and now, a day without riding was like torture. He hated cars. He hated being driven around...he fucking hated being dependent on anyone for anything.
Once he had the Darvocet in him, he took off and Smoke followed him. It took him a few minutes once they got downtown to remember where the speakeasy was located. The building it was in was an old library that had been built in the 1930s, and two modern buildings had literally been attached to it on either side. Inside, the old library was huge and still intact, but from the outside all anyone saw was a thin strip of stone gray masonry that didn’t stand out at all next to the big steel buildings.
They had to park their bikes in a garage across the street and take the walkway across. Once they got to the red inner door they had to push a buzzer and wait. It was early in the day, so Wolf wasn’t sure there would even be anyone there to answer it, but after a few seconds a voice said, “Password?”
“I just need to speak to a manager.”
“One moment sir.”
Wolf and Smoke waited in silence for several minutes before the voice was back. “What is this in regard to, sir?”
“A dead patron.”
“Excuse me?”
“One of your regulars is dead. I want to talk to your manager about him.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t...”
“Not real interested in what you do or don’t,” Wolf told him. “My name is Wolf Lee. I’m the president of the Westside Skulls. I’m not here to stir up any shit...just talk. But the longer I have to wait out here, the less patient I’m going to be.”
It was two minutes before the red door was pulled open. A man dressed in a black-and-white striped suit and fedora held open the door and said, “Right this way, gentlemen.” As they walked through the place Wolf took stock of the patrons and staff. There was only one bartender and a handful of customers, three together and one guy drinking alone. They all looked harmless, but Wolf wasn’t one to ever let his guard down. The little piss-ant in the morgue proved that looking average didn’t always mean you lived that way.
The zoot-suit guy led them through a door that said “Employees Only” and then down a long hall to another door that said “Office.” He knocked, and a woman’s voice, a silky, smooth, sexy voice, said, “Come in.” Wolf and Smoke looked at each other. Smoke looked as surprised about the voice as Wolf was. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it definitely hadn’t been a “come fuck me” voice like that one. Their guide pushed open the door and they were led into a plush, comfortable-looking office...but neither Wolf nor Smoke were checking out the furnishings. The woman behind the desk was the hottest thing next to his old lady that Wolf had ever seen, and he made that decision before she even stood up and he saw that she had a body like Jessica Rabbit. She was dressed in a forties-style pencil skirt that hugged
an ass that looked like it had been carefully sculpted out of the finest materials, and a white button-up blouse that barely concealed a lacy white bra and a pair of breasts that swelled over the top of both of them...and made his mouth water. Amara might stab him in his sleep for the thoughts he was having, but as long as they were only thoughts...
“Hello, gentlemen, I’m Marissa Sweeney.” She held out a hand with long, fingers, completely devoid of any rings or color on her long, well-manicured fingernails. Wolf took it and it was so soft that it almost seemed to melt into his. He made himself focus on her blue-green eyes and not her cleavage as he said:
“Nice to meet you, miss. I’m Wolf and this here is Smoke.” Her big red lips twitched slightly, and she pulled her hand back and offered it to Smoke. He looked at it like it was a rattlesnake and Wolf had to nudge him to get him to take it. Smoke’s eyes were focused above hers, on the tips of her platinum blonde hair that was rolled up on both sides the way the ladies used to wear it during the first...or maybe it was the second...world war.
“Please, have a seat.” Wolf sat first, and Smoke followed his lead. Poor Smoke was pale and there were beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. Wolf almost couldn’t wait to get out of there just to see what he had to say about the gorgeous woman. “How can I help you, today?”
“Did you know Jerry Brown?” Wolf asked her.
She looked like she was thinking about it but then said, “I’m sorry, the name doesn’t sound familiar. Should I know him?”
“Well, I was told that he was a Friday night regular of the club. He was killed day before yesterday and I am trying to find out some information about him. I was hoping someone here might be able to tell me who he hung out with when he was here...or anything for that matter.”
“Friday is my night to work, but like I said, the name doesn’t ring a bell. Do you have a picture? I’m sorry to hear about his demise.”
Wolf chuckled and said, “Don’t be.” He gestured at Smoke, who took out his phone and pulled up the photo that he’d taken of the one David showed them. The woman reached forward and put her hand around Smoke’s, pulling his forward so that she could see the picture better. Wolf almost laughed out loud. Smoke had more expression on his face than he’d shown in the sum total of a month, and Wolf could swear he might even be trembling a little bit.
“Hmm,” she said, continuing to hold onto Smoke’s hand. He looked at Wolf, wide-eyed, almost like a scream for help. Wolf had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. “No...I mean, I guess maybe I’ve seen him, but I can’t think of anything about him that stood out. I’m sorry.”
She let go and Smoke pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. His eyes were still wide, and Wolf was tempted to take a picture. He’d never seen him so affected by anyone. “Any chance I can talk to your bartenders or waitresses?” She bit her lip. Damn, she was sexy. He didn’t blame Smoke for being all hot and bothered. If he were single himself, he’d be all over that.
“I suppose I could arrange that, but I’d need you to come in on Friday night because the regulars aren’t all here on the other nights. I would ask that you only speak with them while I’m with you, however.”
“Sure, that’s not a problem. So, if I show up tomorrow night at what...9 p.m.? Will that work?”
“Perfect,” she said with a smile that showed a mouthful of white teeth. She had a slight overbite, which was sexy as hell too in Wolf’s opinion. Fuck...Amara would slit his throat for what he was thinking. This woman was the first one that even caused his dick to twitch since he met his old lady.
He pushed up out of the chair, thankful that his pants were slightly baggy. He couldn’t help but glance at Smoke. He didn’t have the same luck. He had his hands folded in front of his zipper area. Wolf did chuckle then and the look that Smoke gave him made him hope he didn’t turn to ash in his sleep. “Thank you, Miss Sweeney.”
“You’re very welcome.” She stood up, and God help him and Smoke both if she didn’t walk them to the door. They had to follow behind her, watching as those beautiful, round cheeks moved fluidly while standing atop a pair of four-inch heels and calves that a professional runner would envy. Fuck. “You gentlemen enjoy the rest of your day. And Mr....?”
“Wolf,” he said.
She smiled again. “Mr. Wolf...”
“Just plain old Wolf.”
Still smiling she said, “I’ll see you on Friday night.”
They were a few steps from the door when they heard it close. Smoke glanced over his shoulder and made sure she was gone before he uttered the first words Wolf had heard him say all day... “Fuck me.”
Wolf threw his head back and laughed, and that netted him Smoke’s middle finger. He imagined poor Smoke would be grabbing onto the first club girl in his path when they got back...or pounding it on his own in the shower. At least Wolf had his lady...he’d just better not give her any indication that a curvy, platinum blonde bombshell had made his dick hard or she might just cut it off.
8
The ride up into the Sierras felt so good that Sabrina was disappointed when Bruf brought the bike to a stop. His hard body was so warm, and it felt so good being cuddled up into his back with her arms around his middle...and her hands so close to...damn.
When he killed the engine she pulled off her helmet and looked around. They were at a little park, a picnic area, really. There was a small patch of grass, two picnic tables, and a few shade trees. She climbed off the bike and watched Bruf throw a long leg over and do the same. He didn’t say anything, he just reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a joint and a lighter. He lit it as he walked away from her. He got about six steps away when he realized she wasn’t following him and turned around. “You ever seen the view from up here?”
She shook her head and he held the joint out toward her. She’d never smoked weed in her life, but she stepped closer and took it, letting her fingers brush his as she did. The look in his eyes when they touched was lust...she was sure of it. She couldn’t imagine why, but this sexy man wanted her as much as she did him. She put the joint to her lips and took a drag as she followed him. As soon as the smoke hit her lungs she started coughing and for the next full minute, while Bruf stood over her and occasionally patted her back, she choked on it. By the time she stopped coughing her eyes were filled with tears and her throat was raw. If she could have hid, she would have, but there was nowhere to go, so she looked up at her companion. Bruf was smiling at her, not laughing, but there was amusement in his sexy hazel eyes.
“You okay?” She nodded and wondered how red her face was. She was glad that she at least hadn’t had the opportunity to put on any make-up or she’d have mascara all over her face. “You don’t smoke?” She shook her head and his smile widened. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want you to think I was a little kid or something.”
He chuckled and said, “Drinking and smoking doesn’t make you a grownup, Sabrina. They’re crutches, or enhancements. If you don’t need a crutch, or an enhancer, I suggest you leave it all alone. Lots of people can’t handle it, but they don’t know that until it’s too late.” She didn’t know what to say to that. She appreciated him not treating her like she was an idiot after her coughing fit. She nodded and gave him as much of a smile as she could muster. He reached over to the tree next to them, stubbed out the joint, stuffed it in his pocket, and then held out his hand. She stared at it for a second before taking it, but when she did, he closed his big one around it and a feeling of absolute peace and contentment washed over her.
Bruf led her over to the edge, where there was a barrier of wire mesh fed through heavy cement posts, and she looked out over the city. In the daylight it was pretty; she imagined it must be absolutely breathtaking at night. “Wow, this is a great view,” she said. He was still holding her hand and it was getting harder by the second for her to concentrate.
“Yeah, it’s one of my favori
te places,” he said. He dropped her hand then and she was instantly disappointed. He walked over to the little picnic table and perched himself on the edge of it. “Were you born and raised in Fresno?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You?”
He looked like he was thinking about it and she wondered why a person would have to think about where they were born and raised. At last he said, “I was born in London, England. Moved here when I was a little kid. Been here ever since...for the most part.” She wondered what “for the most part” meant but thought it too nosy to ask. They sat quietly for a while as he relit his joint and smoked it, and she stared out at the view. She broke the silence by saying:
“You think Wolf will be willing to help me?”
“I guess it depends on what you want from him.”
“Why haven’t you asked me what I want...why I’m here?”
“I operate on a need-to-know basis, and I don’t have a need to know your business.”
“Do you like what you do, with the club?”
“Yep. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Did you know my father...Coyote?”
“Yep. Coyote’s the one that made me sergeant-at-arms. I’ve been a part of the club for six years now.”
“And before that?”
“Busy growing up, I guess.” He stubbed out the joint, stuck the roach in his pocket, and said, “I guess we should head back.”
He slid off the table just as she took a step toward the bike. Their bodies brushed into each other and they both froze. Bruf’s eyes locked into hers and Sabrina held her breath. He had that look and she knew that he was going to kiss her. She bit down on her lip and waited...for what seemed like an eternity. She finally felt his body relax slightly and instead of kissing her he took a step back and said, “Let’s get going.”
“Wait!” She hadn’t meant to say that...she hadn’t meant to say anything. But seriously? What the fuck?
