Shadows and Lies

by Eden Butler

  The staircase was narrow, winding up and around onto a catwalk that moved us out of the strum of jazz music and bubbling laughter from below until we came to a tall hallway with a row of impressive wooden doors shooting into the dark.

  Alex tapped once on the center door and I watched her, completely thrown by the return of a genuine smile that she gave to the tall brunette who opened the door.

  “Well, thank fuck.” Misty grabbed Alex before I could stop her and had nearly shut the door in my face, but I kept my boot in front of the jamb and slipped inside the office. The brunette smothered Alex between her cleavage, gripping her so tight that I thought I might have to intervene when Alex coughed. “Sorry, darling,” Misty said, pulling Alex back to hold her at arm’s length, eyes skimming around her face, down her body like a mother whose runaway had just returned from a bender. “You little shit,” she said when Alex shook her head, but the insult wasn’t real, was spoken with a laugh and I relaxed, knowing the woman was genuinely concerned about Alex.

  “God, would you stop playing mama hen, Misty.” Alex swatted at the older woman when she tried reaching for her again, then she glanced at me, moving her friend’s attention away from her. “This is Neil Ryan,” she told Misty, nodding at me and the club owner’s smile left her face.

  “Neil Ryan?” she said to Alex, but she didn’t stop watching me.

  “Everyone just calls me Ryan, Miss Summerland.” The woman snorted, finding something funny about her name from my lips. “That not what they call you?”

  “Oh, it is… people who aren’t my friends. But hell, honey, no one’s called me Miss in a long damn time.” With a small saunter, I immediately knew where Alex had learned the moves that nevertheless failed to get me naked. Misty could have easily succeeded. The woman didn’t walk, she shimmied and it was sexy as hell, if you’re into that sort of thing. But she probably had a good fifteen years on Alex, which made her even older than me and I wasn’t into all the ceremony she seemed to make about how she looked—the red corset costume, the black silk lace and fringe that wrapped her supple curves and the flawless paint job accenting her bright blue eyes and heart-shaped lips. She was elegant, older, but still had a twinge of playfulness in her eyes that had me guessing she wasn’t even close to playing grown up.

  Alex was trouble, I’d figured that the second her right cross caught my chin back in Tennessee. Misty was trouble’s more experienced, less subtle sister.

  “Well,” Misty said, circling me like a market horse up for auction, “aren’t you just a fish right out of water.”

  “How’s that?” I asked, not liking like the purr I could almost hear from her raspy voice.

  “Big guy like you, following after our lil Alex here.” She stepped in front of me, fingers twitching as she crossed her arms. “Let’s see… broken nose, at least twice, and eyes that haven’t stopped moving since you walked into my club.” Misty moved her head, squinting as her gaze went up my body and over my face. “SEAL or Ranger and definitely a cop.” She smiled, laughing when my typical frustrated grunt worked its way out of my throat. “You can pick them,” she told Alex through a laugh.

  “I didn’t pick him, Misty.” She pulled on her friends arm when the woman’s grin at me turned into a leer. “Leave him alone and sit down.”

  Misty waved off Alex’s attitude and moved to her long mahogany desk. “So, what’s the story?” she asked Alex, pretending to be focused on her friend while she shot a quick glance my way. I knew the deal—the woman was sizing me up, on alert because I’d followed Alex in here. I was a stranger and lowlifes, even ones with fancy clubs and pockets full of money, did not trust strangers.

  “The story,” Alex started, slipping into a cream wingback chair in front of Misty’s desk, “is that my little problem has gotten worse.”

  “Define worse.” Misty sat up straight, leaned across her desk so that the low dip of her neckline flashed smooth, round cleavage. But she wasn’t flirting, had stopped looking my way altogether and the tease was completely vacant from her features. There was real concern making her eyes wrinkle as she waited for Alex to elaborate.

  The younger woman had a shrug that could be both frustrating and a little cute. You know, if you were into that, which I wasn’t. Anyway, she gave Misty that non-committal shrug, dismissing the fucked up shit that had been left by that creeper in her apartment. But that was Alex’s business to either keep to herself or let her friend in on. It was weird, watching these two interact—both women who the streets had done dirty, woman who used their bodies, their smarts and skills to get what they needed. I didn’t understand that need, but I could at least respect their strength and the low muttered discussion in front of me hit me with a lick of déjà vu. The way Misty and Alex bantered back and forth, how they teased, how they listened, it reminded me of my mother and her best friend Dot Simmons. Always giving and taking, always ready to listen, to fight, to help whenever there was a need. It occurred to me, just then, that women do that—they find a way to clutch friendship. They hold tight to it and defy anyone to rip it apart. I’d seen it with my mom and Dot, I was looking at it just then with these two street smart grifters. No matter how they lived their lives, friendship, maybe even if it was just a connection that formed some sort of bond, they’d found a family in one another. That shit wasn’t easy to do.

  “So Ryan agreed to help me out,” Alex told Misty and once again the woman glanced my way, but I could see that she was no longer interested in flirting with me or seeing what I hid under my jacket aside from my line of work. Maybe she didn’t see me as the enemy, but she was suspicious.

  “And what does Ryan get out of this little bargain?”

  “Misty…” The warning in Alex’s voice had my focus on her and the way she frowned at her friend like there was something she silently ordered Misty to keep to herself.

  “Honey, they always want something.” It was a fact meant for Alex’s ears, but the club owner stared right at me when she said it. “Ain’t that right, Ryan?”

  Misty wasn’t wrong and I watched her staring at me, those cunning eyes sharp and curious, wondering what she expected me to say. I’d give her nothing but the truth. It wouldn’t hurt and I trusted that Misty was the sort of woman who’d appreciate it. “The auction. I need in.”

  Immediately she jerked her glance to Alex, a silent whip of worry that the younger woman had let some sacred secret free into the law-abiding world. “What the hell did you tell him?”

  “She offered me a chance to get back my property.” I stepped away from my lean on the wall, hands in my pockets all cool and calm, but Misty gripped the pen in her hand like she needed something to break in case I started in with the threats. “Calm down,” I told her, sitting in the chair next to Alex. “I’m not a cop.” The club owner moved her lips into a purse like she doubted me and I sighed, tired already of never being believed. “I was a cop about a year ago and things happened, shit went down and Miss Black here decided to steal from me.” I rested my elbows on my knees, not frowning, not smiling, just enough that the woman would believe I wasn’t upset. “We realized we have certain mutual associates in common and Alex has agreed to help me get back my property. In exchange, I use my investigative—and SEAL training—” this bit of information had Misty smiling at her earlier accurate guess— “to find that over-enthusiastic admire of hers.”

  With the way the older woman watched me, I felt like a kid waiting for permission to take her daughter out unchaperoned. Those heart-shaped lips stayed closed, only moved when Misty nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip. She’d held herself tight, bare arms covered by her fingers as she took a moment before those lips went still and those blue eyes moved up to meet mine. “So you’re going to watch her ass if she gets you into the auction?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And how the hell are you going to swing that?” she asked Alex.

  “I’m not,” Alex said, grinning. “You are.”

  That chic ai
r about Misty slipped and I saw the quick uptake of her apprehension, the incredulous way her mouth fell open and that shocked, unsuppressed laugh left her mouth. “The hell I am. Timber would never…”

  “Misty,” Alex stopped her friend with one shake of her head and, though it surprised the hell out of me, the woman listened. “You make Timber a lot of damn money. Buckets of it. And let’s be honest here, this place,” she waved her hand around the opulent room, all the fine furnishings and decadent shades and colors that ornately fit with the theme and feel of the place, toward the large diamond on Misty’s middle finger, “is the only legit company he’s got his hands in. You hold the cards and you know you want me safe.”

  Alex had played the right hand. Money hungry club owner or not, Misty had held Alex with relief, as if she had been holding her breath for days waiting for her girl to show up. She cared about Alex that much I could tell and Alex knew it too. In fact, I’d bet she was depending on that to connive her friend to help her. But Summerland didn’t seem like a woman who reacted by knee jerk. She was a thinker, a ponderer who sat behind that desk looking between the two of us as she weighed and measured her decision behind all that thick dark hair. Then, ignoring me completely, she swiveled her chair to look directly at Alex. “Speaking of which, Timber wants…”

  “Later,” Alex said and with a tone that sharp, even I would have listened. “We’re talking about the auction. You’re the call girl.”

  “What?” I asked, having no idea what she meant.

  Alex moved her head toward me, but didn’t look at my face. Instead, she continued to stare at her friend, hurrying to explain the details to me like she really didn’t have time to bother with my pesky question. “She sends out the calls, the texts to let everyone know the time and place. They’re all on call for the week it’s supposed to be held but no one knows anything until Timber gives the go ahead and Misty picks up her phone.”

  Misty’s chair stopped moving, went perfectly still as she turned it toward Alex, head working from the disbelief in her shake. “You trust him?”

  “I trust that he’s a Boy Scout,” Alex explained and I tried not to get offended. That was becoming her go-to description of me, but at this point I didn’t care what she thought of me as long as I ended up in that auction. “I trust that he has something he needs just like me. And, Misty, I trust him not to fuck me over.”

  Alex stood and Misty and I both watched her, the way she touched the back of the wingback, how her long limbs and loose, black hair seemed to flow. I frowned at being caught up in watching her, wondering where it had come from, wondering why I’d let something so stupid and simple as how Alex carried herself take my focus from convincing Misty that I needed an invite to Ironside’s auction.

  “I’m done watching my back,” Alex continued, leaning against the blacked out window that looked down onto the club floor. “I’m done trying to keep my nose clean because Wanda or Timber or whoever the hell it is gets their nuts off by scaring the shit out of me.”

  “What are they doing?” Misty asked, voice worried, a little rigid before she left her chair and stood next to Alex.

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s freaky and I want it to stop.” Alex nodded at me. “I think Ryan can make it stop. I just need you to get us into the auction.”

  The club owner settled next to her friend, resting her hand on the back of her neck as she eyed me, expression held tight, uncertain. “This might be tricky,” she said to Alex.

  “Why?”

  Misty didn’t look at Alex, she kept her attention on her hands, moving her diamond ring around her finger. “He’s hoping this auction will change things.”

  “How?” Alex asked, but Misty ignored her.

  “You got cash?” she asked me.

  “I can manage it.”

  A small laugh that was doubtful and Misty lifted her eyebrow at me. “Can you manage ten?” I nodded and she lost a bit of her attitude, but then recovered almost immediately, nudging Alex’s arm. “You gotta take a meeting with him.”

  “What? No,” Alex said, walking away from Misty and toward the door. I guessed the woman had meant Ironside and I found myself instantly agreeing with Alex that talking to him, especially if they were alone, wasn’t exactly smart.

  “He just wants to talk, Alex,” Misty said, taking hold of Alex’s arm to stop her before she made it to the door. “Please. Damn, sugar, I just want him to stop hassling me about where you’ve been.”

  I was going to interject, maybe tell Alex that talking to the guy likely responsible for all the weird gifts wouldn’t be smart, but I knew she didn’t need me telling her shit she already knew. But the way she didn’t retreat from her friend’s touch, how she hesitated like she might consider the meeting, told me what I needed to know about these two woman. Give and take, sure, but my gut told me Alex was the one giving the most.

  I’d only known Alex a few days. She’d slept on my sofa and irritated the piss out of me, but I had a feeling I could read her well enough by now. Especially when she glanced at me, eyes searching like she wanted my opinion but didn’t want to ask in front of her friend.

  I wouldn’t make her say a word. “We don’t know it’s him. Not for sure.”

  “It could be.”

  “It could be anyone.”

  She wanted to say more, I could tell. She made a small sound in her throat, probably another argument, but didn’t get to speak it when the black phone on Misty’s desk rang and the woman moved to answer it.

  “I don’t like this,” Alex whispered as she stood next to me. “He’s going to try to get in my head.”

  “Please.” I knew what it was like to be wrapped up in worry and fear over something stupid you could avoid. It might have been a stupid gesture, but I grabbed her hand, squeezing it once. “Like I’d let you be alone with him.”

  “You gonna stop him?” Her voice was low and calm, but she looked like she wanted to laugh, like maybe I was just a little bit too full of myself.

  “I told you,” I said, meaning it when I smiled at her. “I got your back.”

  She held my stare, but her bottom lip fell just a bit, signaling how I had caught her off guard. I liked seeing that surprise on her face, but had no idea why I did.

  “Alex?” Misty said, holding the receiver to her chest. “It’s him. He’s in the lounge.” She swallowed, eyes darting between the two of us. “He wants you now.”

  One nod and Alex’s decision was made, but her confidence was back in place. She dropped all worry from her eyes and lifted her chin as she answered her friend. “Fine. That’s fine, Misty. Tell him he’s got ten minutes.” But before the woman could return to her call, Alex stopped her. “And tell him I’ve got backup.”

  Misty only called this spot a lounge because “Champagne Room” or “Timber’s Private Stage” sounded tacky. It was a small VIP area set apart from the bar and the main room with the Reviews where only Timber and very select guests were allowed private entertainment. My best friend didn’t like calling this place a strip club and, really, it wasn’t. But sometimes the performers were short on cash. Some of them weren’t as seasoned, needed practice before moving up to the main room stage and when they did, it was Timber and his friends that became their first live audience.

  The performance depended solely on Timber’s discretion. Most nights he liked watching beautiful bodies sway and shudder to the low refrain of a haunting blues song. On others, he wanted to hear a songbird or watch some poor green girl do her best to look seductive without freeing herself from her corset and garters. Not many perfected the skill, but Timber still enjoyed their enthusiasm.

  I felt better with Ryan at my side, though I wondered what he expected. Did he think that just his presence would have my former boss easing up on me, holding back with whatever it was he wanted to say? I doubted that would ever happen. When Timber wanted something, he got it and he didn’t care who knew how he managed getting it.

  Ryan stopped me just a few feet fr
om where Cosmo stood guard, blocking whoever sang with that deep growl on the mini stage beyond the lounge entrance.

  “You don’t have to talk to him.” It was the first time Ryan had let himself sound even slightly concerned. I’d seen his anger these past few days and that barely contained temper that mimicked mine, but he’d always kept his shit together. I hoped he still would.

  “I know I don’t.”

  He didn’t look at me, didn’t do more than pull on my elbow and step between me and Cosmo so the giant couldn’t hear what we said. “If you’re doing this so Misty will score that invite…”

  “I’m doing this so he’ll leave her alone about me.” I looked around Ryan’s wide shoulder, right to Cosmo who pretended like he wasn’t listening to us. I knew better. That bastard always listened. “Look, Ryan, if Timber wanted to talk to me because he misses me, there wouldn’t be all this bullshit.” I moved my chin, pointing out the small crowd that had gathered around Cosmo and drifted into the lounge. Ryan followed my gaze, nodding at the suits who walked past us. “This,” I told him, “is for your benefit. He wants you to think he’s got juice. You see that, don’t you?” When Ryan smiled, I took his hand, worried that he didn’t get what I was telling him. “This is a pissing match. One Timber intends to win. Don’t think because he’s a thug he doesn’t have game. He knows how to play, trust me.”

  “Oh, no, I see that.” Again Ryan turned toward the door, but he didn’t looked worried. He looked, in fact, like he was ready to do a little playing of his own. I decided right then I fucking hated that look on his face.

  “Ryan…”

  “Come on,” he told me, leading me toward the lounge with his hand on my elbow. “Be cool and don’t worry, I’m not leaving that room without you.”

  That’s not what I was worried about.

  We passed Cosmo and the bastard didn’t even bother looking at me, barely let his eyes slip to the side as we moved through the entrance.