Travis’s fist clenched around the bottle at the mention of the bunch of bastards who had been the Deacons’ archenemies. Although he didn’t want to be part of this world anymore—he liked his freedom, thank you very much, he liked not feeling like he owed anyone—it irked him that the Ministry wreaked havoc in the French Quarter. “Could his death be on them?”
“Why?”
Travis snorted. “Since when did the Ministry need a reason to kill anyone?”
Sophie paused in polishing a glass and shrugged one shoulder. “True. As I said, I have no fucking clue about any of this.”
Travis took a swig of his beer, making a mental list of suspects. The Ministry was the most obvious possibility, but he got the feeling that something bigger was going on than their rival biker gang. Unfortunately, so far he didn’t have a whole host of other options.
“Do you know if he owed anyone any money?” he asked eventually.
Sophie shook her head. “Not as far as I know. But if he did, you guys should watch your backs, because the type of people he’d owe money to wouldn’t stop wanting it just because he’s six feet under.”
Great, as if Ajax and Leon wanting a piece of him weren’t bad enough. He sighed, drinking more beer while he worked out his game plan. “I’m going to need to take a look at the business records and Priest’s computers, bank statements, all that shit, to see if I can uncover anything suspicious. You okay with that?”
She shrugged. “Whatever it takes. You know where the office is, and Dad’s stuff is still upstairs as he left it. Fuck knows I haven’t had time to deal with it.”
“Thanks.” Travis nodded and took another mouthful. Then, “Where’s Ajax today?”
“He and Blue have gone for a ride.”
Fucking fabulous. While Ajax and Leon had bullied him into their crusade, they were fucking off on a joyride. Travis would much rather be riding his own bike out of town than sniffing around this joint, but they’d made it clear what the consequences would be if he did anything of the sort. And although he had no desire to be drawn back into the fold, he also didn’t want to be at the receiving end of Leon’s enforcer punishments. “What about Micah? Seen any sign of him the last couple of days?”
“Prince?” She raised one pretty eyebrow. “I’m not his fucking keeper, but rumor has it he’s staying in the Hotel Monteleone.”
“I see.” Travis had never set foot in that high-class establishment, but maybe he’d pay him a visit sometime. Why should Micah be living in the lap of luxury while Travis was stuck with the dirty work? “I’ll have a burger and then I’ll check out the office.”
“Sure.” Sophie turned toward a redheaded barmaid down the other end of the bar. “Can you get Cash here a Priory Special?”
Travis cringed at her use of his road name. It had sounded cool all those years ago, but now it made him sound like a wannabe. Maybe because now he actually had money and in the end he’d achieved it through legitimate means, not extortion and gun trafficking and all the other shit the Deacons had been involved with. He’d discovered there was a certain thrill in achieving success through hard work rather than ill-gotten gains, and not having to watch his back wherever he went was an added benefit. No matter what Ajax or Leon thought, no way Travis was going back to all that.
Sophie went off to serve other patrons, and Travis finished his beer and tapped his fingers against the solid wood of the bar counter while he waited for his lunch. The redhead tried to flirt with him when she delivered it, but he just asked for another beer. She wasn’t bad looking, but she didn’t stand out the way Billie did, and besides, he wanted to focus on the task at hand. He scarfed down the beer and the burger and then headed out back to start examining Priest’s records.
The sooner he got to the bottom of all this, the sooner he could get the fuck back out of town.
Chapter 5
Travis spent the best part of twenty-four hours holed up at The Priory, the noise in the bar getting progressively louder as the night went on and then finally dying out completely in the early hours of Saturday morning. And he found nothing. Not a fucking thing in Priest’s records that gave any indication of something shady at play. He’d checked out Priest’s bank records, trawled through emails sent and received in the last year or so, and it was all mind-numbingly boring. But he’d kept going, always thinking that the next document might hold the key.
“Did you stay here all night?” Sophie asked, sauntering into the office with a cup of coffee around midday.
“I want to get to the bottom of this.” He eyed her mug. “Is that for me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Under normal circumstances I’d tell you to make your own damn coffee, but you look like shit, so I’m going to make an exception.” She handed him the mug and he took it as if it were a million-dollar check. As he guzzled the much needed caffeine, she leaned against the desk and scrutinized him. “Did you uncover anything useful?”
“Nope.” Silence reigned a few moments as he drank and they both pondered this fact. He didn’t know what Sophie was thinking, but he was wondering if maybe Priest’s death truly was a tragic accident. Like him, Ajax and Leon had been shocked and devastated by the news of Priest’s death. Like him, they probably harbored plenty of guilt about never coming back, never trying to make contact with Priest, never questioning the reason he’d sent them away. So maybe this was simply clutching at straws. Ajax wanted someone to blame, a target for the revenge he needed, which would somehow make him feel less guilty about what had happened to the Deacons. Still, Ajax was Ajax, and he wouldn’t take kindly to Travis hitting him with such a theory.
“I’m going to dig around some of his acquaintances,” Travis said, putting his empty mug down on the desk. “I’ll need a list of anyone he had anything to do with. Suppliers here, drinking buddies, the mechanic who fixed his bike, anyone. Got it?”
Sophie nodded. “I’ll get onto it today.”
Travis heaved himself out of the office chair and grabbed his jacket off the back. He was almost at the door when Sophie spoke.
“Don’t you miss it?” she asked.
He looked back at her. “Miss what?”
“The club, the brotherhood, being a part of something. I know I missed you guys when you were gone.”
Travis closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck no.”
And then he turned and stalked out of the office before she could look him in the eye. He didn’t want to miss this. Didn’t want to miss being part of the Deacons because that would make leaving again impossible. It would open him up to things he didn’t want to feel. Walking away from the brotherhood and Priest ten years ago had felt like someone had torn out all his internal organs. He’d felt empty, broken. Somehow Priest’s rejection had been harder to take, more disappointing, than all those times his mother had failed to look out for him. In the end, Priest hadn’t acted any more like family than his mother had.
But he’d recovered. He’d learned to live for no one but himself, to rely on no one.
The bright light of the early afternoon sun almost blinded him as he walked outside, and his head throbbed as if he’d been on a bender all night. He wished. While Ajax and Leon had been holding up the bar and Micah was fuck knows where doing fuck knows what, he’d been the one stuck doing the painstakingly boring groundwork. As he strode the few steps toward the gallery, a gray lump outside moved and he recognized it as Billie’s little dog. Animals lying on the sidewalk—often with signs around their necks begging for money—weren’t unusual in these parts, but he didn’t expect this one to greet him as if he were a long lost friend.
The dog, Baxter if he recalled correctly, lifted his head at the sound of footsteps and then started jumping up at him, his tongue lolling out, slobber getting all over Travis’s jeans. He tried to shake the mutt off, but it was a stubborn thing and followed him right into the gallery, still dancing around as if Travis were royalty.
“Baxter, stop it!” came Billie’s voice
as they emerged into the courtyard. She was standing near the fountain, fiddling with some twinkle lights or something, and he guessed the anger in her tone wasn’t because she cared about Baxter putting dog saliva on him but more the friendliness her dog was showing toward him. The enemy.
Pretending to barely notice her, he stooped down to scratch Baxter around the ears. He had to admit, when you got used to it, the mutt was kinda cute. “Hey there, little fella. That feel good?”
“So, you do have at least one nice bone in your body.”
Travis straightened and finally looked at Billie, amused by the fury in her narrowed eyes and her arms-folded-over-chest don’t-mess-with-me stance. “Oh, baby, I can be very nice when I want to. You just say the word.”
“Whatever!” She turned away and went back to the tiny lights she was adjusting around the fountain. It gave him a nice view of her ass and he took a moment to admire it, to imagine what it would feel like naked in his hands. It had been a long night, and Billie as eye candy was a welcome distraction from the stuff with Ajax. In fact, he wouldn’t mind being a little more hands-on in terms of appreciation and putting some of his frustrations and pent-up energy to good use.
“That wasn’t the word I was thinking, but it’ll do.”
Before Billie could anticipate what he meant, he stepped toward her, put his hands on her hips and spun her around to face him. Her sky-blue eyes widened as he stooped his head and pressed his mouth against hers.
Her lips tasted even better than he’d imagined and he pulled her closer, loving the feel of her breasts crushed against his chest as he slid his hands up her back and into her unbelievably soft hair. He deepened the kiss, taking everything he wanted and more, not caring about the tourists that watched them, not caring about anything except the way Billie tasted. For a moment, she melted in his arms. Her stiff body loosened and she whimpered as he shoved his tongue into her mouth. His cock hardened, wanting in on the action, wanting her mouth on it instead. He lowered his hands to her buttocks, pressing her against him. She gasped as the hard bulge in his jeans pressed against her belly, and fuck, the sound almost had him coming on the spot.
He couldn’t recall ever being this turned on by a simple lip-lock.
But then she ripped her mouth from his and glared at him. “Travis! What the hell are you doing?” She was still so close her warm breath tickled his face.
“Being nice,” he whispered back, fighting the urge to simply sling her over his shoulder and carry her into the house. If there weren’t people in the gallery, he would have, but he wasn’t an animal. Not these days, anyway.
“Nice?” She sounded as if she were choking. Or maybe about to faint. He found he didn’t like either idea, so he steadied her by keeping his hands against the small of her back.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it, because we both know that’s not true.” He stroked his fingers low across her back.
She shook him off and stepped away, putting distance and a big ugly sculpture between them. “I would rather kiss a hippopotamus.” Unfortunately for Billie, her nipples peaked like beacons through the thin cotton of her dress, announcing her words as a blatant lie.
He made sure she saw him looking, and then shrugged as if he couldn’t care less whether she wanted to kiss him again or not. He ignored the twitch of his dick that made him a liar. He didn’t chase women and he wasn’t going to chase this one, no matter how her lips had felt against his. Anyway, after that kiss, he felt confident it wouldn’t be long before she came begging.
“Suit yourself. But can I suggest an alligator? You might find one of those more easily than a hippopotamus.”
Then, before she could hit him with some smart-ass reply, he turned and headed into the house, trying to walk normally despite the fact that his jeans felt two sizes too small.
—
Nice? Was that what he called that? Billie clenched her hands so her nails dug into her palms as she tried to regulate her breathing, annoyed that potential customers had seen her in such an unprofessional embrace. Even more annoyed by how much she’d enjoyed it. In fact, enjoyed probably wasn’t a strong enough word. Was there any such expression that could define the feelings Travis’s lips had ignited inside her? She’d never been kissed like that before. With strength and hunger, as if she were his last meal and he wanted to gobble her up before she went cold.
Yeah, right, a voice inside her mocked. Although she hated herself for it, she’d never be anything but hot around Travis Sinclair. It was a good thing she had to go out and do a ghost tour that night, because if she stayed in, she didn’t know what her wicked libido might entice her to do. Her mouth went dry at that prospect, and she swallowed to try and bring moisture back.
She had to remember who this man was. He wasn’t only the baddest boy she’d ever found attractive, he also wanted to sell her home and her livelihood out from under her. That was what really mattered here. How could she feel such lascivious things about him when he threatened everything that mattered to her?
“Aw, is this your dog?” asked an English accent beside her, jolting Billie from her thoughts.
She forced herself to smile at a young woman who was bending down in front of her, giving Baxter a belly rub. “Yes.” Traitorous little beast, she thought, as Baxter basked in the attention. His welcome of Travis a few moments ago was unacceptable. She’d thought animals were supposed to be good judges of character. Then again, she’d let the insufferable man put his lips on her, so she could hardly blame Baxter for his actions.
“He’s adorable.” For a second Billie thought the woman meant Travis, but then she added with a smile, “I love it how there are animals all over town here. We”—she gestured to another girl who was looking at some of the paintings—“keep seeing cats in the shop windows. Do you mind if I take a photo?”
“Not at all.” Billie shook her head and tried to focus on the woman. “I like it too. It’s one of the first things I noticed when I came here. A lot of people lost their pets in Katrina and since then, they’ve kept their animals close.”
While the woman snapped photos with her smartphone, Billie asked, “Are you on holiday?”
“Yep. Gap year. We’re backpacking the globe, working where we can and basically having a ball. Do you live here? Is this your gallery?”
Billie nodded. “Yes, and yes. Although I haven’t been in New Orleans that long.”
“That’s an Australian accent, isn’t it?” The woman stopped rubbing Baxter’s tummy and straightened. “We’re heading Down Under after America. I wasn’t sure I could handle an Aussie summer, although it’s pretty hot here today.” She wiped her hand across her brow.
“You should have been here a few months ago.”
The woman grinned. “I have a feeling I’m glad we weren’t, although there’s something so magical about this place, maybe I could have handled it.”
“I know what you mean.” Billie smiled wistfully, thinking about how the French Quarter had felt like home from the moment she stepped out of the taxi that had brought her from the airport.
“Did you meet your boyfriend here?”
“What?” Billie spluttered as it dawned on her that this time, the Englishwoman was referring to Travis. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s…” A pain in the ass? Bad news? Possibly plotting murder? The best kisser of my life? “My landlord,” she managed eventually.
The English girl’s mouth dropped open. “I wish my landlord kissed like that.”
“No, you don’t,” said her friend coming over and joining the conversation. “Your landlord is a fat, balding old man.”
“True.” The woman screwed up her face and then both girls laughed, but Billie’s traitorous mind had rewound to the moment Travis had yanked her against him and put his mouth on hers as if he were staking a claim. Her knees wobbled with the memory and she didn’t know how she’d ever think straight again. It would be much simpler if Travis were fat, balding and old, but he was about as far from that as any
man could get. It shouldn’t be legal for outlaws to possess such hard muscles and devastating good looks.
“Did you pay your rent early or something?” asked one of the women.
“Huh?” Billie looked at them, befuddled.
“The kiss? Was it because you’re a good tenant?”
“Um…” Truthfully, Billie had no clue what that kiss had been about and she didn’t want to talk about it with strangers. He was probably simply trying to screw with her head, so she wanted to somehow exorcise it from her mind. “Let me know if you ladies need any help.”
And with that she summoned a smile, walked over to her desk and flopped down onto her seat to try and pull herself together. She couldn’t let Travis get to her. No matter how much her greedy hormones had to say on the issue.
Five hours later when Rolley strolled into the gallery, carrying a box of beignets with the Café Du Monde logo on the side, Billie had never been happier to see him in her life. Not because he carried her favorite treats, but because she needed to escape before she lost her mind. Not thinking about Travis, his kiss or the fact that he was inside and would be more than willing to pick up where they’d left off had been torture. And impossible.
She’d labored through the afternoon, struggling to do the thing she normally did best—chat with tourists about the pieces in her gallery and the magic of New Orleans—because all she could think about was having Travis’s lips on hers again. And other parts of her body also. What kind of person did that make her? She had friends who waxed lyrical about their love of makeup sex, one of her old colleagues had admitted to frequently picking fights with her husband so they could have the kind of sex that only happened after a heated argument, but Billie had never been able to understand. When she made love, she wanted it to be just that, so why all of a sudden could she not stop thinking about what it might be like to fuck the brains out of Travis Sinclair? A man she barely knew and didn’t even like.
Fire Me Up Page 6
