“Tell me about it.”
“And he’s got a mean streak so watch your back.”
Vick thought about it a moment. “I know he’s bein’ stalkery, but I don’t think Simon would hurt me.”
“Yet. There’s a first time for everythin’. He’s been ignorin’ what you say? Crossin’ your boundaries?”
Vick nodded. His disturbing behavior was intensifying.
“Trust me, I got a sixth sense about these things.” Goose pimples raised on Bonnie’s arms, and she rubbed them. “He’s the type of fella who’d beat you senseless, and then tell God himself you fell off a horse.”
Perhaps, Bonnie had a point.
“You got anythin’ for protection? A gun?”
“Nope.”
“You work for the mob, and you ain’t got a piece?” Her brows raised.
“Not my style.”
Vick spent most of her days surrounded by armed men, anyway, so it’d never been an issue. And she committed cyber crimes—no weapons necessary.
“Try it on for size. You might find it fits.” Bonnie reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a handgun. “No serial numbers on this piece, so it’s completely untraceable.”
Vick gulped. “I’ve never even held a gun, much less shot one.” With her luck, she’d drop it, and the darn thing would go off and nail her in the foot. Vick wanted Simon to leave her alone, without bloodshed, thank you very much.
“No time like the present.” Bonnie tried to put it in her hand.
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Bonnie held it out once more. “And you will.”
“Okay.” This time Vick tucked the pistol away in her purse. She didn’t intend to use it, but she might sleep easier with a piece sitting on the nightstand next to her. It’d be like a really scary paperweight. If nothing else, she could wave it around for effect.
“And if you can’t bring yourself to fire it, find someone who can.”
“Maybe, I should consider some protection.”
“Now you’re talkin’.”
While she couldn’t approach anyone in the outfit, particularly Jasper, she could ask for help from another source. Men who had no love for the Lone Star Mafia. Knights on shining steel, for example, like the Four Horsemen MC. The bikers considered themselves vigilantes who helped folks in trouble, and she was definitely in a bind.
Yes! It was the perfect solution. She didn’t have to involve her co-workers, no one would be the wiser, and she could pay the bikers for their time and discretion. Win-win.
“Promise me, you’ll take precautions?”
Hmm, she actually seems worried about me. Unlike Byron, Bonnie might have a conscience.
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Bonnie squared her shoulders.
“Thanks for your help.” Vick walked to the door.
“You’re welcome, darlin’. You keep ice on that wrist now. The swellin’ will go down in a day or two. I’m pretty sure it’s only a sprain, but you should get it checked out.”
“I will.”
“One more question.”
“Yeah?”
“Why’d he call you Veronica?”
“You heard, huh?” She’d been hoping Bonnie had been too preoccupied. She should’ve known a Beauregard wouldn’t miss a trick.
“Obviously.”
“It’s a complicated question.”
“It really ain’t.” Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “You see, from what I figure, he’s your john.” She looked Vick up and down. “Yeah, you were probably one of those real high-end types of escort. Girls they take to the theater and fancy dinners.”
Vick took in a shuddering breath. How did Bonnie know? Do I give off some kind of sex worker vibe? Before she’d been an escort, Vick had worked as a cam girl, a virtual stripper, and she’d built up quite a fan base.
“Honey, in my line of work, I see all kinds of people. And I’ve become a real student of human behavior.”
“Well, you’re wrong about me.” This is exactly the kind of thing she wanted to keep quiet.
“No, I’m not, but don’t worry. I ain’t breathin’ a word to anyone.”
Vick closed her eyes. “I appreciate the discretion.”
“Don’t mention it. You know, men like Simon, and the ones who come to my club, they see women as objects, as merchandise they can purchase. That’s why I keep a shotgun behind the bar.”
“What are you tryin’ to say?”
“Simon don’t see you as a person, and if he can’t buy you, then he’ll resort to other measures.”
“Like what?”
“If I’m right, and I usually am, force. So, watch yourself.”
Yeah, I’m definitely callin’ the bikers.
Chapter Five
“What’s up, Bast?”
The black cat, who’d been lounging on a footstool in the living room, narrowed her yellow eyes and hissed. Vick hadn’t gotten home from work yet, so Jasper let himself into her place. They’d exchanged keys after they’d moved into their townhomes in case one of them got locked out, and for occasions such as this.
“Happy to see you, too.”
With a peeved yowl, Bast bolted out of the room.
“Was it somethin’ I said?”
Vick named the ornery critter after Bastet, some high and mighty Egyptian cat goddess. Bast adored Vick but hated Jasper’s guts. He’d sweet-talked the feline, brought her treats, but nothing helped. She hissed and spit anytime Jasper got near her. At least Vixen appreciated his companionship.
He’d been disappointed they hadn’t had breakfast together this morning, so he was looking forward to supper. Earlier, Jasper stopped at the grocery store. He’d bought a roasted turkey breast from the deli, grabbed some walnuts, celery, and mayo.
So, he set about making chicken salad for dinner. It’d be a quick and easy meal, waiting for Vick whenever she arrived. Earlier in the evening, he’d gotten a text from Vick telling him she might be running late.
An hour later, Vick walked in the front door.
She had baby-fine black hair pulled up into a bun, pale skin, and blue eyes behind tortoise shell glasses. Jasper loved her librarian vibe. She had an hourglass figure with large breasts and curves in all the right places. Vick kicked off her heels and took her hair down.
His fingers itched to feel the long length of it. Jasper bet it’d be smoother than silk.
“Hey.” She offered a smile, but it died really quick.
Over the past month or so, he’d noted a change in her behavior. Vick had been distracted and on edge. Every time he’d asked, she refused to tell him a damn thing, so he couldn’t help. All Jasper could do was watch from the sidelines and hoped she’d confide in him soon.
“I made us some grub.”
“Fantastic. I’m starvin’. Wanna watch Wynonna while we eat?”
“You read my mind.”
They’d been working their way through the first season of Wynonna Earp on Netflix. The show was a strange mixture of paranormal and western which somehow worked. Wynonna, the titular character fought revenants, demons that her ancestor, Wyatt Earp had put down.
Although, Jasper loved to point out all the technical issues with the onscreen gun battles. And he was less than thrilled with Vick’s reaction to Doc Holiday’s charm and sly wit. Jasper had been forced to practice spinning his weapon around, gunslinger style to gain her notice.
“I’m gonna change, and I’ll meet you in the living room.” She wore a skirt and a silk blouse. Everybody in the Lone Star Mafia dressed up for work. They were old school mobsters and believed in putting on a show.
“I’ll make us both a plate.”
While she was gone, Jasper did his level best not to picture her stripping a few feet away. A few minutes later, Vick emerged in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
He sat beside her in the living room. Their places were similar—white walls with hardwood floors. Dix owned a lot of real estate in Crimson Creek, including their
townhomes, and they’d both received a nice discount on the rent.
She had a set of brown pleather Queen Anne style wing back chairs in front of the television which sat on an oak table. Vick took the one on the right, while he sat in the one on the left. He spent so much time at her place, he considered it his chair.
“Dix said you dropped somethin’ off at the club. How’d it go?”
She frowned. “My errand literally went up in flames. Bonnie lit the letter on fire.” She pulled up the next episode and pressed play.
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah, I’ve had a terrible evening, until now.” She took a bite of chicken salad. “This is delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
“Anytime. So, you’ll have to go back?”
“Yup, until Dix or Bonnie give up. How long do you think this is gonna last? One week? Two?”
“They’re both stubborn as mules. You might be doin’ this for a month. It’ll be like Groundhog Day.”
“Don’t suppose I could tell Dix to run his own errands?”
Jasper just laughed.
Vick groaned. “On that note, I need some wine. You want some?”
“Sure.”
She seemed more exhausted than usual tonight. They both had difficult jobs, but her movements were slower, the dark circles under her eyes, more pronounced.
Vick grabbed a bottle of Poison Ivy from the fridge, her favorite Poison Fruit vintage, and cried out, almost dropping the bottle. She grasped the wine with her other hand and set it on the counter.
“You okay?”
“My wrist hurts. It’s no big deal.”
“Let me see.” Jasper vaulted off his chair and gently grasped her hand. A purplish red bruise marred the pale perfection of her skin.
Okay, that’s it.
“What happened? Who hurt you?”
“Uh, I twisted it while gettin’ out of the car.”
Bullshit.
“Yeah? I can see the outline of fingertips on the bruise. Who did this?” Jasper planned on punching the asshole in the face.
“No, it’s fine.” She pulled away. “Forget about it.”
“I can’t.” Their training sessions had come out of nowhere too. Was somebody hurting her? He couldn’t put his finger on the cause, and Jasper was growing more alarmed by the minute.
“Vixen, come on. Don’t shut me out.”
“Jasper, I…” She trailed off and then gazed up at him. “Please leave it alone.” He could read the worry on her expressive face, and he didn’t have the heart to add to her troubles. Her big blue eyes would be the death of him.
“Wish you’d talk to me.”
“I know.”
“But you’re not ready to spill, huh?”
She nodded.
Dammit. “Then, I’ll be a good friend, and I’ll respect your privacy.” Sometimes Jasper hated the term. Friendship didn’t even begin to describe all they were to one another. “At the very least, don’t lie and say everythin’s fine. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“And if you get in a fix, you’ll call me, right? I’m only a few doors down, and I’ll be here lickety-split.”
“With your guns?”
“Guns blazin’. I’d even put Doc Holiday to shame.” She smiled. “Vixen, I care about you. You’re important to me.”
“I am?” She bit her lip.
Aw, hell.
When it came to Vick, his emotions were all over the place. Their friendship had an edge, an unspoken attraction which kept bubbling to the surface. Lord knows, she had a starring role in all his fantasies, but he didn’t know what to do about it.
Their situation couldn’t get any more complex. They worked together, for a criminal organization, and they were practically neighbors.
Plus, Jasper had lost his entire family. The Tans owned a local hotel chain, and his life had been planned for him, even before Jasper had been born. His refusal to go along with their expectations had been difficult for them to accept.
And when he’d become a mobster, they’d disowned him for disgracing the Tan name. He probably should’ve lied to them.
According to his grandmother, Jasper had forever tarnished their reputation. Family honor was important, and it could only be restored by cutting ties with him. As the elder, she’d ordered his siblings and parents to keep their distance from him, and they’d complied. All except for his younger sister, Grace, but they had to sneak around.
So, Jasper couldn’t afford to lose anyone else he cared about. Therefore, Vixen was strictly off limits. If they got involved and it ended badly, he wouldn’t survive her loss.
“Yup, you’re my best friend in the whole wide world.”
“Right.” She nodded.
An awkward silence stretched between them.
Great. I almost fucked this up. Again.
Like this morning, when he’d pounced on her during training and couldn’t bring himself to move away. Being in such close contact with her body was driving him insane.
Jasper cleared his throat. “Let’s take care of your wrist.”
He filled a Ziploc with ice cubes, then handed it to her. And then he poured Vick a glass of wine. Once more, they were seated side by side.
Jasper tried to think of something to say but came up dry.
“Feel like takin’ in a movie this weekend?” Vick asked.
“Can’t. Thomas is gettin’ married Saturday.”
Come to think of it, Grace had a birthday this week. Jasper had bought her a gift, he just had to find the right time to give it to her.
“Yikes, I forgot. How’re you doin’?” Vick squeezed his arm, and he placed his hand over hers.
“Well, my brother is marryin’ my former fiancée, so I’m a might bumfuzzled.”
Since Jasper had bailed, Thomas, his younger brother, stepped up and took on Jasper’s previous role at the hotel. And eventually, he’d started dating Leslie Zhang, Jasper’s former girlfriend.
Jasper didn’t love Leslie any longer, but he was thrown off balance by the arrangement. He wondered if she’d ever really had feelings for him, or had Leslie wanted to be the wife of a respectable small business man?
“They never sent an invite, huh?”
“Naw, because I’m the black sheep. I might taint them with my very presence.”
Didn’t family have to welcome a person with open arms? No matter what he’d done? Not according to the Tans anyway.
However, Jasper had found a loophole. His brother’s reception would be held at the hotel, which was open to the public. The hotel had an attached restaurant, and they’d be catering the wedding.
What if he showed up and pleaded his case to Grandmother Nuwa? She’d at least be obliged to hear him out. Jasper planned on showing her he was the same man, no matter what he did for a living.
“What are you up to?”
“I got a plan.”
“What kind of plan?” she asked.
“A good one.” He flashed a smile. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
She snapped her fingers. “You’re gonna crash the weddin’, huh?”
“Hey, how’d you figure it out?”
“I know you.”
“Yeah, you do.” Jasper grinned. “Wanna come with me as my date? I mean, my plus one?” He could picture the whole scene now. Jasper would get back into grandmother’s good graces, and then he’d take Vixen for a spin or two on the dance floor.
Before she could answer, her cell rang. Vick checked the number and hit the green button.
“Hello?”
Her eyes went wide, and the color drained from her face. Whatever the phone call was about, it couldn’t be good news. He wondered if it had any connection to her bruised hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked after she’d hung up.
“I need your help. Brighton Place called, the sober living house my brother’s stayin’ at. Jackson didn’t make it in time for curfew tonight. No one’s seen him since yesterday evenin’.”
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Aw, hell. Her younger brother, Jackson Hale, was a heroin junkie. They’d probably find him in some shithole already three sheets to the wind.
“Let’s go.” Jasper yanked the keys out of his pocket.
***
“Jack’s on foot, so he couldn’t have gotten far.”
Vick clutched the armrest. They were driving down the streets of Abilene, where Jack had been staying in the sober living home.
Jasper slowed down. They still didn’t have a clue where Jack had wandered off to.
“You’re a good sister.”
“Am I? It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Of course, you are. How many times have you rescued him?”
“I’ve lost count.” He could see tears glistening in her eyes. She hastily brushed them away. “I thought it was gonna be different this time.”
“I know he’s your brother, and you love Jack and all, but do you wanna ride to his rescue again?”
This hadn’t been the first time they’d pulled Jackson out of some flophouse. Jasper doubted it’d be the last either. Chaos followed Jack around like a dark cloud.
“Somehow, I can’t stop myself.”
They found an abandoned house one block over. The windows were boarded up, but the planks over the front door had been pried off. It was the ideal place to get high.
“It looks like a likely spot.” Vick glanced at him.
“We’ll check it out, but I’m goin’ in first.”
Jasper drew his gun and approached the porch. The front door creaked open when he touched it, and he nearly choked from the god awful stench—sweat, urine, and shit all amplified by the Texas heat.
The people inside didn’t pay the stink any mind. They were scattered around the foyer and the kitchen, leaning against walls, sprawled on the floor, oblivious to everything, but their own intoxication.
“He’s gotta be here somewhere.”
Vick turned on the flashlight app on her phone, and together they scanned the faces. The junkies reminded him of zombies—sightless eyes, moaning, and shuffling around, unaware of their presence.
They found Jack in what must’ve been the bedroom, lying on a threadbare, blood stained mattress. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling sightlessly.
Blood Money (Lone Star Mobster Book 3) Page 4
