“A man’s car is his treasure, Ryan. Did you see what she did to my car?”
“Its photo shopped.”
“That’s beside the point!” Practically breathing fire, Raymond started deleting the emails from his delighted colleagues. “A man’s reputation is not to be mocked!”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“I’ll fix her.”
Ah. Here it came.
“I’ll sort her out.” Teeth bared in a grin, Raymond promised darkly, “She will learn not to fool with me.”
Never going to happen. Marietta lived to push Raymond’s buttons, and the whole team scattered over the world lived to see what explosion was going to happen next between them. It was practically a tradition to have a button-pushing retaliation at least once a fortnight.
Pushing away, Ryan walked through to Aaron’s office to get briefed on any news.
Already sitting behind the desk, his boss looked up as Ryan sat in the chair opposite. Ryan gave him a small nod as he placed his palms on his thighs and waited.
Sitting back in his chair, Aaron studied Ryan.
Ryan returned his regard calmly.
After several seconds, Aaron said, “I see Ella Attwood is getting cameras installed today.”
Ryan nodded.
“Her landlord rang not long ago to check that she hadn’t tried to interfere.”
Wise move on Tom’s part.
“You didn’t change her mind when you saw her, did you?”
“She argued, but Tom owns the house, so his choice.”
“Mmm.” Thoughtfully, Aaron continued studying Ryan.
Not in the least bit discomforted, Ryan just continued to steadily regard him in turn.
With a nod, Aaron switched topics. “You heard the news about the lawyer getting caught with underage girls.”
Hard not to, it was all over the news. Ryan nodded.
“Edward contacted me.”
Not surprising that the Federal Police were interested in the case, it promised to be a big operation.
“States that they got an anonymous tip about another member of the club.”
“Anonymous.”
“They even tried to track it, but it was a burner phone.”
Someone didn’t want to be identified as the dobber.
“It’s their second tip-off.”
“Someone in the know.”
“Yes.”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman.” Aaron tapped the side of his finger against his lips thoughtfully.
“Could be one of the underage girls.”
“Didn’t sound young, he says.”
“What does Edward want?”
“He wants us to keep an eye out for any gossip concerning this club and other members.”
“And the informer.”
“The informer would be a great asset.”
“I’ll put the word out.”
“Good.” Aaron dropped his hand to the desk top. “We’ve another new client coming in, an agent for a celebrity by the name of Whitney Joseph. She’s intent on going to Africa to do charity work.”
“Bodyguards.”
“Yes. Apparently she’s known more for her publicity shots than actually keeping her promises, so her visit isn’t going to be that welcome. The place she has chosen is right in the middle of a trouble spot. Agent can’t talk her out of it.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
They discussed a few of the reports that came in that morning before Ryan left to carry out his tasks and Aaron returned to his computer.
As much as he wanted to follow-up with Ella, Ryan prided himself on a job well done, and he had a job to do.
The morning passed swiftly, the agent and his request for bodyguards taking time to sort out. Ryan met him, wrote up the request, got history, did a detailed background search of the celebrity and where she planned to go, and then proceeded to start matching up suitable bodyguards and what they’d need before dealing with the quote and emailing it to the agent.
He was just finishing up when Kent entered.
“All done.” Kent placed the van key in key cabinet. “Man, that cat is a little scary.”
Ryan watched him crack open a can of Coke.
Kent paused. “Something wrong?”
“You put Ella’s house key on your desk.”
“Oh, yeah. She’ll pick it up sometime today, apparently.”
“She wasn’t home?”
“Nope.”
“When did you leave?”
“About two hours ago, I went to gather the surveillance recordings from Gail. But I swung by Ella’s place right before coming back here.” Kent took a swig of drink. “She wasn’t home.”
“She worked last night.”
Kent shrugged. “Maybe she stayed over at a boyfriend’s place or something.”
Okay, that had his jaw firming. He had to remind himself that she had a life without him. “Maybe.”
The email inbox pinged. Turning his attention to it, he brought it up. It was from Raymond and addressed to everyone. Opening the attachment, Ryan studied it. Ah, revenge time.
Kent flicked open his own email and choked. “Hells bells! Marietta will kill him!”
Very possibly. In all her glory stood Marietta in a bikini from a beach party. God knew where Raymond had found it, the man had some serious high-tech expertise. Probably hacked her account - again. Raymond had done a bit of artistic photo-shopping. Her boobs sagged down to her knees, her normally pert arse drooped badly, her hair spiralled out of control, she was scratching her bum, her short and curlies were dangling out each side of the bikini bottom crutch, and there was a cigar hanging out of the side of her mouth. In the other hand she held a box of condoms with the word expired and an arrow pointing to it. Emblazoned on the top of the photo was printed in bright red ‘Broke? Needing a *cough* woman? Don’t worry, we have the discounted version! Can’t guarantee a good time, but you can bet you won’t forget it. Book your session today before this offer expires.’ Next to this was Marietta’s email address.
A loud guffaw came down the stairwell from Control Centre. A pinging came from the computer email inbox Marietta had been using earlier, followed by several more emails, no doubt from the various team members who’d already seen it.
It was starting.
With a shake of his head, Ryan logged off the computer. Let them all have some fun before he reined them in. Meanwhile, he had a few things to take care of. Speaking of which, he checked his mobile messages. Not surprisingly, there was no answer from Ella.
She might refuse to return his call, but he wanted answers and he was going to get them.
However, she still wasn’t home when he called past. Sitting in the driveway, his thumb rapping on the steering-wheel, Ryan studied the house. The wall was white with fresh paint, no sign of the red beneath. Tom had obviously been out and fixed it.
But where was Ella? She’d worked the previous night, she had to sleep sometime. Or maybe she was asleep. At a boyfriend’s house? His jaw clenched. Not your business where she sleeps. But he still wanted answers. He’d just have to come back after work and corner her. It gave him time to cool down some of the anger still simmering deep inside.
After work he returned to the house. She still hadn’t returned. Her mobile flicked to voice mail when he rang again. Avoiding him? Possible.
But she couldn’t avoid him forever.
~*~
Walking into the pub, Ella glanced around. The usual patrons filled the place - drunks, down-and-outs, some young thugs looking for excitement, steely-eyed bouncers, and hogging the tables in the middle of the smoky room - yeah, like anyone took notice of the ‘No Smoking’ sign on the door and wall, the last of which was peppered with darts - the men she’d come to see.
Big, burly, some muscular and some running to fat, they wore typical bikie gear - leather vests, scruffy jeans, bike boots, some sported bandannas around their heads. Some had short hair, some had long
hair, all looked mean, all had ‘trouble’ stamped over their hard features.
Crossing to the bar, she rested her forearms on it.
“Hey, darl,” the barmaid greeted her.
“Hey, Yolanda. Can I have a beer, please? And a shot of Johnny Walker.”
“Coming right up.”
The man sitting on the stool beside her turned and smiled. “Hi, sweet thing.”
She ignored him.
“Looking for some company?” He reached out, rested a hand on the back of her waist.
“Looking to lose a hand?”
“Oohh, feisty.” He leered. “I like them feisty.”
“Remove your hand.”
“Aw now, tell ol’ Bill what your name is, pretty thing -” He choked to a stop at the snick sound, the press of something hard against his stomach as she leaned close, placing her mouth against his ear.
“How about I don’t and your guts stays inside its nice little packaging?”
Obviously the words and sharp pressure against his stomach helped clear some of the alcohol fog. He blinked, paled, pulled back.
Just as swiftly Ella drew back, closed the switch with one hand before he could get a good look.
Sliding off his stool, he mumbled, “Bitch” and staggered off.
Yolanda was waiting on the other side, one eyebrow raised in partial boredom.
With a nod, Ella handed over the money, got the change which she pocketed in her jeans and picking up the glasses of beer and Johnny Walker, moved through the crowd to the tables in the middle. The occupants watched her in amusement.
“Hey, Snake.” She placed the glass of beer in front of the big, burley bloke before sliding the Johnny Walker across the table to his second-in-command. “Vin.”
“Got me the good stuff this time.” Vin waggled the glass of whisky.
“I’m hoping you have some for me, too.”
“I’m guessing you don’t mean booze.”
Ella met Snake’s amused eyes.
Amused, but hard. Snake by name, snake by nature. Loyal for a friend, really bad news for an enemy. She kind of hovered in-between, an unknown quantity that amused and intrigued him enough to make him help her, but not enough to trust her.
Went both ways. He didn’t have to know her gut was cramping just sitting here amongst them, definitely a rabbit in a snake’s pit. Nope, no need for them to know a damn thing. They probably knew some already, but neither Snake nor Vin had ever broached it with her.
“Tough bitch,” Snake said pleasantly.
“I can be when I want to be.”
“Like your switchblade.”
She could feel the outline pressing against her backside through the jeans. “It works.”
“Meanest comb in the west.” He gave a loud, booming laugh while Vin chuckled.
Before she could move, someone was at her back, a hard arm snaking around her waist to partially lift her. “What the hell-” A hand slid down the back of her jeans to pluck the switch from her pocket, then she was dumped unceremoniously back into the chair while the big bikie behind her tossed it across to Snake, who caught it and flicked it open.
The silver comb was there for all to see. Shut, it looked like a switchblade. Open, it was harmless.
Vin and Snake roared with laughter, the other bikies surrounding them joining in, even the hard-eyed women laughing.
Nothing to do but play along. Ella shrugged and leaned back in the chair, folding her arms and watching them all laugh. Just had to brazen this out.
“Shit.” Snake wiped his eyes. “You’re good value, Ella. Good value for a laugh.”
Probably why he helped her, though it was for a price more than just the giggles. “You finished?”
Folding the comb back into the handle, he tossed it at her, smirking when she fumbled at the catch.
Nonchalantly, she dropped it into the top pocket of her jacket. “Girl has to be prepared.”
“For what? A comb-over?”
That produced another round of guffaws which Ella waited out patiently.
Hilarity fading, Snake took a mouthful of beer, sloshed it around his mouth before swallowing.
Vin waved the other bikies at the table away, and without a word they got up, their women sliding off their laps, retreating to the pool table and other tables leaving Ella, Snake and Vin alone at the middle table. In their own way, the bikies cleared a section around them, an invisible but definite arc of space, ensuring privacy for the three occupants of the table.
Dangling the glass of whisky from one hand, Vin eyed her.
Man, he was creepy. A scar cut through his eyebrow, ran along his cheek. His hair was greasy, his skin shining with sweat. Maybe she should offer him the switch comb to go with a bottle of shampoo. An industrial size bottle. In comparison to the burly bulk of Snake, Vin was lean, strong. Treacherous.
Snake was just as treacherous, she had no doubt. He eyed her like he was dissecting her slowly, bit by bit, peeling back invisible layers of skin to see inside her.
Fighting the urge to shudder, she met his gaze straight on. “Going to tell me?”
“Lucky you amuse me, Ella, else I’d be doing something about your smart mouth.”
“It’s a simple question.”
Leaning back in the chair, the wood groaned under his bulk as he picked his teeth with his thumb nail.
She refused to look away.
Finally, he tossed back another mouthful of beer and set the glass on the table with a bang that had several people nearby look over, only to glance away when a couple of the bikies shot them mean looks.
“All right.” From his pocket he took a grimy piece of paper, set it on the table, smoothed out the crumples. “Got this for you.”
Her pulse leaped. Reaching out to take it, she was stopped by Vin’s hand locking around her wrist. Now her pulse jumped for a different reason - fear.
Show no fear she reminded herself. Coolly, she arched an eyebrow.
Vin stared at her for a few taut seconds before releasing her wrist and sitting back.
Picking up the paper, Ella hoped they’d not notice her slightly trembling fingers. Without looking at it, she folded it and tucked it into her pocket, fastening the button securely. She didn’t know what was going on tonight, but there was a sense in the air, a foreboding that grew as Vin watched her.
“You want to tell us what you’re up to?” Snake drawled.
“My business.” She started to push upright.
“Park your arse, girlie, I’m not finished.”
Slowly, she resumed her seat, keeping her expression blank.
Folding his arms, muscles and fat combining to bunch up, he studied her. “You’re dipping in a shit pool.”
“It’s my shit pool.”
“Is it.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t intend to swim in the shit pool with you.”
“You won’t.”
Placing those meaty forearms on the table, he beckoned her closer with one finger.
Mentally swallowing, she leaned forward, half prepared to get a warning smack to the chops, so very aware of Vin watching and the covert glances sent their way from the surrounding bikies.
“I don’t know what you’re up to,” Snake said softly, “but if this comes back to bite me on the arse, I will make sure you will unravel. I will take you down with me in a heartbeat. Are we clear?”
“Crystal clear.”
“Good. Then business is finished for the night.” He sat back, waiting expectantly.
Fishing in her pocket, she withdrew the brooch, handing it to him with a pang. She’d thought it’d be easy to part with, but… Forget it. Just forget it.
Vin clicked his fingers, a skinny bikie approached. Taking the brooch, he angled it under the light, took a loupe from somewhere on his person to study it closely. After several seconds he gave a grunt and handed it back to Snake. “Genuine. Gold, some diamonds, a pure sapphire.”
“Nice.” He rubbed it b
etween thumb and forefinger. “Real nice.”
“So we’re good?” She waited.
“Yeah, we’re good.” As she stood with relief, he held up a finger. “For a few more meets, but then you need to bring me something else. Information doesn’t come cheap.”
She nodded, swung on her heel and threaded her way through the bikies, intently conscious of their eyes on her right up until she walked through the front door.
The paper safe in her pocket, her jewellery box lighter by yet another piece of valuable jewellery, she hailed a taxi. Sliding into the back seat, she gave the address, exhaling a sigh of relief as the taxi pulled out into the traffic.
It was stupid to think Snake didn’t know where she lived, who she was, it was why she hadn’t bothered to give him a false first name. But precautions were still good, because you never knew…
Twenty minutes later the taxi pulled up in the busy supermarket car park. Thankful for the late night shopping, she got out, paid the taxi driver and went inside, going straight to the ladies toilets which was blessedly empty at that moment.
Bracing her hands each side of one of the porcelain sinks, she blew out a long breath, puffing up her thick fringe with the upward direction. “Jesus, Ella.” Leaning back, stretching, she took several breaths, seeking to still the jittery nerves she’d had to hide. Slowly she relaxed as the busy, non-threatening atmosphere of the shops filtered through the doorway. She was safe. Straightening, she looked at her mirrored reflection, taking in the paleness of her face. “Okay. You got it. Take that step first.”
The door swung open to emit an elderly woman and what appeared to be her granddaughter. Their bright chatter swept over Ella, and she turned on the tap, washed her hands, took another deep, decisive breath before walking out of the toilets.
Grabbing a magazine from the newsagent, she made her way to the coffee shop, ordered a slice of quiche, some chips and an iced chocolate and took a seat in the corner well away from the windows.
Opening the magazine, she flicked idly through the pages until the meal arrived, then ate while she read.
The whole time she was aware of the paper in her pocket but she didn’t take it out. The last thing she wanted was to risk losing it. Not likely, but she wasn’t taking risks, not after what she’d gone through to get it.
It was eight thirty before she left, getting into her car that was parked halfway down the parking bays and pulling out into the traffic.
Echoes Page 5
