Walk For Me: Club Avalon Book 4
Page 17
“Sorry for the wait, y’all. Larry’s having issues with the deep fryer again.” Liquid chocolate eyes rolled in disgust. “Haven’t seen you around here for a while, handsome. Missed me?” She gave Alicia a friendly wink as she slid a fresh plate in front of her, then set the drinks down with care. “Thought you’d forgotten us.”
Jealousy hovered, not quite sure whether it was needed or not. Alicia touched her still unnamed bear for reassurance as she studied Atticus’ face, but apparently she shouldn’t be worried—the only thing on his face was companionable interest. Not a drop of desire in sight, despite the fact the girl was stunning.
“Been too busy to come into town and hassle Loki at work,” was his reply. “Lisha, this is Claire. Claire, meet Alicia. Claire works here on the early evening shift to pay for college. She knows Loki really well—he works in that tattoo parlor over there.” He gestured across the street to a store window full of hand-drawn designs, and a board across the front of the building with letters across the top.
Alicia squinted, her lips moving noiselessly as she sounded off the letters.
B.L.E.S.S.E.D. I.N.K.
“Nice to meet you! Loki is such a hoot, right? He’s the biggest rogue going, but he sure does brighten the place up when he comes in. I—shoot,” Claire muttered as someone bellowed her name from the kitchen. “Gotta go, Larry’s got his pinstriped boxers in a knot again. Just give me a wave if you need anything else. Enjoy your food!”
“She’s a chirpy one,” Alicia murmured, assessing the new offering she’d been brought. It was a child’s portion, which made her feel better. She hated wasting food unless it was oatmeal, and that burger of Atticus’ would have been wasted. She poked at a golden medallion on the plate. “Can I ask what this is, or will I look like an idiot?”
Atticus lifted his eyebrow as he picked up his burger. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had chicken nuggets before?” He shook his head when she stared at him. “You’ll like them. Lenny’s is famed for its nuggets, although the burgers are notorious in this area. Try it.”
“Lenny’s? I thought the kitchen guy was called Larry?”
“Lenny was the original owner, he died about ten years ago and left this place to his son, Larry. Changing the name of a business is bad juju—at least, it is if you talk to Larry.”
Curiosity got the better of her. Her parents had been huge fans of takeout and fast food, but they’d never shared with the likes of her. Leftovers had been fed to the dogs rather than her, and the cupboards had been padlocked so she couldn’t scavenge when her parents were out working.
The smell was familiar, but she had no taste memory to connect it.
Warily, she pinched one between her fingers, hissing as it burned the tips. She waved it around to cool it down, and as she hoped, Atticus reached out and captured her hand, his eyes on hers as he leaned forward to blow gently.
“Do you think today will change anything?” she asked, aware that he could interpret change any way he liked. She didn’t know whether she was asking if her legs would ever work again, or if she wanted to know if the shift between them could lead to greater things.
He smiled sadly and urged the morsel of food up to her lips. “I think you shouldn’t worry about the outcome. There’s an entire weekend between then and now, and at the end of the day, princess, stressing over it won’t make a bit of difference to the end result.”
Alicia yawned, giving him the perfect opportunity to pop the nugget in her mouth. She chewed slowly, humming in approval under her breath. No matter how tired she was, she enjoyed the taste. “Would be better with ketchup.”
“Everything’s better with ketchup.”
Or maybe, everything was just better with him.
Chapter Seven
“They’ve got eyes on her, boss.”
Atticus leaned back in his chair and scowled at the phone on his desk, transmitting his displeasure down the line to his source. The day was going from bad to worse, and it wasn’t even ten a.m. yet.
The mystery of the Russian mob boss’s demise continued, with a third murder hitting the ground early this morning. Ivanov’s youngest son—a boy not yet eighteen—had collapsed and died in the family’s restaurant while preparing for the early breakfast service.
Christophe was working his ass off, using the tech boys to hack into the Phoenix P.D. system for access to the detective’s reports, and the medical examiner’s notes on the cases, but he wasn’t making the progress Atticus required. Not that solving the murders was Christophe’s job, not at all, but finding the culprit gave Heisler Security a massive advantage in the politics of the Russian mob and their future plans.
The phone call at six a.m. had roused Atticus from a disturbingly dream-laden sleep, and he’d made the decision to pull Ethan in off another case as back up for Christophe.
After that, everything got worse. Isaac and Thomas had been held by immigration in Hong Kong for three days, thanks to Isaac acting a little too covertly for the authorities. Several extensive interviews later, both men had been allowed to enter the country, and their reports so far were dire. The contacts Atticus had been using to track Jasper’s parents were dead—well, officially, they were missing, but Thomas was convinced they were victims of foul play.
Atticus was inclined to trust his gut.
Luckily, Alicia was still sleeping, exhausted by what she’d gone through yesterday, but Atticus was battening down the hatches for when her subconscious realized it could act out without repercussions. His theory was that she was locking down nightmares, her brain aware of the threats she’d faced in rehab, and how vulnerable she was in the dark.
Screaming with nightmares would bring the orderlies, and she couldn’t risk that.
Now she was safe…the deluge would come.
And then there was this snafu in the making. Koda was a low-level member of the gang the McGees had formed and run for decades, peddling drugs and sex for the higher-ups. He’d been recruited before his thirteenth birthday, done things that would earn him a minimum of a nickel-and-dime in the state pen, and was desperate to get out of the life before it killed him.
After Abraham and Diane’s deaths, Atticus had gone digging into the gang, looking for a weak link he could utilize. He’d turned up Koda, promised the boy he’d sever his ties with the gang and find him a job he could take pride in, if Koda stayed where he was and reported back any movement pertaining to Bodie or Alicia.
“How many eyes?” Atticus asked.
“They sent six guys out to the rehab facility once they heard about it shutting down. I know they had at least one guy on the inside, I don’t know who, but someone was keeping an eye on her. They’re pissed that she’s gone, they liked torturing her.” Koda’s voice cracked, deepening as his immaturity warred with his masculinity. “They got your name from the guy on the inside. Linked you to the other sister.”
An annoying complication, Att thought. They wouldn’t touch Boadicea, she wasn’t of interest to the gang. She’d never been part of the organization. But Alicia had, in a sense. Her parents had tried to suck her into prostitution, and Att believed they’d pulled her—unknowingly—into the narcotics side of it. As a user, not a dealer.
Alicia was the one who’d killed the patriarch, the matriarch, and brought the whole operation under police scrutiny.
She was the enemy.
“Are you ready to tell me who they are yet?”
He expected the answer to be a firm and unwavering no. It had been every time he’d asked previously. For a long time, the organization operated without a name, one of Abraham’s smart ideas to keep them under the cops’ radar. The leadership was kept under wraps, and divulging the details of anything that went on within the group was an instant death sentence.
Things, however, were changing.
“Look, man, if I tell you this, I want out of here. Today. You need to hold up your end of the bargain.”
“All right. I can do that.” Losing a valuable asset on the
inside wasn’t advisable, but the boy had a right to his survival. Atticus sat straight and brought up the schedule for his team, assigning Patrick and Erik to the job of extracting Koda safely. “Tell me what you know.”
There was the slightest hesitation. “C-Note and Fable have taken over the place. They weren’t next in line to be boss, but they’ve spent the last few months weeding out every contender. I know there’s some guys who’d happily put Abraham and Diane’s murders on them if we didn’t know for sure it was the girl who did them.”
Atticus pulled up a blank email and started typing notes. He wanted all the available data on this C-Note and Fable, and exactly who they’d weeded out. “No one’s challenging them?”
Koda snorted quietly. “Boss, they crazy-ass motherfuckers. Fable’s the worst. She’s shitstorm crazy. She gave JT a gasoline downer, then lit him up like a firecracker on the fourth of July. That fucker burned, man, from the inside out. There ain’t no one here gonna risk pissing them off.”
Oh boy. Dealing with psychopaths wasn’t the worst situation he’d been in, Atticus mused, but he was not impressed that his princess was in their crosshairs. Psychopaths and innocence went together like a pair of mating Black Widow spiders…one devoured the other.
“They’re changing shit up too much. Nothing’s anonymous anymore. The heat from the cops ain’t gone away since the girl iced Abraham and Diane.” Koda’s voice lowered. “It’s getting worse. The guys are dealing gear in broad daylight, boss, and they’re not fussy who they’re selling to. C-Note don’t cover anyone’s tracks. We’re sitting ducks, and the cops are gonna get their shot in if Fable don’t do it first. She’s calling us the Bang Bangers, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck kind of name is that?”
“Worry less about the name, and more about the girl, Koda. What have they got in the works for her?”
“I don’t know. I’m lower level, boss. They don’t trust me with that shit. I just keep my ear to the ground and listen to what the others say. They know she’s in the hills somewhere, but not her exact location. They want her alive, that’s all I know for sure.”
“Okay, that’s good.” Fingertips tapping agitatedly on the desk, Atticus assigned Patrick and Erik to house security for the night once they’d situated Koda somewhere safe—another task to add to his list. “Go to Phoenix Memorial Hospital at two. Walk into the ER waiting room, sit your ass down, and wait for Doctor Conroy to call for you. My guys will take care of the rest. Got that?”
“Yes, boss. Thanks.” The line went dead, one of Koda’s trademarks. He wasn’t one who used hellos and goodbyes.
Evidently, it was time he put together a team to scope out the, ah, Bang Bangers, with a view to erasing them once and for all. Atticus had the best contacts in the police department, ones he trusted to uphold the oath they’d sworn, and he hoped they’d be as hungry as he was to take down one of the largest sources of drugs and prostitution in Phoenix.
Gasoline downers. Jesus. He couldn’t imagine what would compel someone to force another person into drinking gasoline. Gun to the head? He’d rather take the fucking bullet. He could think of several scenarios where he’d take a different form of death over imbibing gasoline with a naked flame chaser.
Atticus sent the notes he’d made to the tech team working a couple of floors beneath his feet, with orders to gather all the intel available. They were a good bunch of guys, smart and dedicated, and their combined talent was worth millions in the criminal world. He was fortunate they’d chosen a career on the right side of the law.
He fired a text off to Erik, telling him to meet up with Patrick for his shift. Then came the call to Patrick to update him on the situation, advise a course of action that involved smuggling Koda out of the hospital and into the Heisler Security safehouse on West Illini Street, and ask him to report for a brief night duty at headquarters.
Sometimes it was incredibly convenient to have the base of his business located directly beneath his home. Other times—when Anarchy got nosy, for example—the location was a royal pain in his ass.
Thinking of Archie, Atticus sent a text to Jasper. He didn’t want to go into Avalon tonight blind. Even though that kind of scene was better unplanned, he felt more secure in himself knowing there were some safety measures in place.
Atticus: Does she know what’s happening tonight?
Jasper didn’t hesitate in his reply. No. She’s looking forward to going to the club, but she has no idea what we’ve put in motion. Still okay for ten?
While he mulled over his answer, working times out in his head, he called Connie. It felt wrong somehow, arranging for a babysitter to take care of Lisha while he went out and fucked a sub’s fantasy into reality.
“Atticus, is everything okay?”
“Relax, Con, everything’s fine. Well, maybe not in your world if you’re jumping to conclusions that something’s wrong every time you pick up the phone. Are you okay?”
“No. How can I be okay when I’m worried about Alicia all the damn time? It’s been a week, Att. A goddamn week with no word, and it’s driving me crazy. Thane’s threatening me with ball gags and corner time every night, and all I can think of is why won’t she see me?”
Yeah, she sounded pretty crazy. The calm, collected psychologist was struggling with this change in their lives, unsurprisingly considering the number of alterations—both subtle and drastic—they’d all gone through in the past eighteen months.
“They shaved her head, Connie. The fuckers shaved her head and left her to starve, soaking in her own bodily waste. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see you. It’s that she doesn’t want you to see her the way she is now.”
“W-What?” The shock in her voice was devastating.
“Connie—” Shit, he shouldn’t have told her over the phone. She was under enough stress as it was, and Thane wouldn’t thank him kindly if she relapsed into her funk.
“They did what?” Well now, there was the Connie he knew and loved. “Oh, that is bullshit. I am coming over there right now, and we are going to sort this out. I want names, Att, and I want the bastards hunted down and hanging up by their tiny little vanilla dicks.”
He couldn’t help it—he laughed. The Domme was a ferocious creature when she was in her element, but since the attack and near-rape in Thane’s house—which still set his blood afire whenever he thought about it—Connie had been understandably subdued. It eased some of the weight off his heart to hear her shrug off that meeker edge and go in for the kill. “Easy there, Con. I’ve got a name, and I’ve got a plan. Is Thane with you?”
“He’s here,” she confirmed in a hiss, “looking at me like I might rip his head off.”
“Not advisable. Love of your life, remember? Look, I’m not calling to send you into an incendiary rage. Although, it’s nice to hear you back on form, Mistress Connie. I need to ask you for a favor. One I’m sure you’ll snatch from my hands.”
“Go on.”
“I need to keep a promise I made, so I have to go to the club tonight. I’m not happy about leaving Alicia on her own.”
“This is the CNC scene Jasper made me grill Anarchy about?”
“Yes. One and the same.”
“Hmm. I’ll make it easy for you, Att. I’ll stay with Alicia tonight. Thane volunteered to be one of the scene marshals, so he can pick you up when he drops me off if you want.”
“Scene marshals? We’re having marshals?”
“Health and safety,” she said cheerfully. “Jasper’s setting up a lighting system outside in case she bolts, but he wants people on the boundaries to make sure Archie won’t hurt herself. A nonconsensual scene isn’t straightforward, Att. Once the brain’s instincts kick in, she might not recognize the scene as being just that—something staged for her pleasure. The possibility of her panicking is very real, especially with your massive frame hulking through the shadows like the Grim Reaper.”
It was something he’d thought about. “Is she in the right mindset to do this?”
“Okay. I need to leave here at eight-thirty, if Thane can be ready by then. I want to do my own checks, make sure everything’s in the right place.”
“We’ll be there. Thank you for thinking of me, Atticus. I feel like I’ve let Alicia down, and it…it will be nice to spend some time with her.” Connie cleared her throat. “Make sure the ones responsible pay an appropriate price, won’t you?”
“You know I will. See you at eight-thirty.”
Atticus replied to Jasper’s text with a simple: I’ll be there by nine. Ready to go at ten.
Shoving out of his chair, he stalked down to Alicia’s room, noting she was up and out of bed. He could hear her brushing her teeth in the bathroom, so he left her to her own devices and headed for the kitchen.
No oatmeal today—he’d spare her the temper tantrum.
Instead, he whipped up a batch of pancakes drizzled with syrup by the time she cruised into the room with an indecipherable expression. She’d dressed in the baggier set of new clothes, and he gave her a stern look that brought a flush to her cheeks. “Good morning, princess. What did we say about wearing the clothes that fit you better than a trash bag?”
The flush turned into a bright red stain. Fiddling with her hands, she tried to speak, but she could only whisper. So quietly, he noted, he was concerned she’d lost her voice.
“Would you happen to have any…” she trailed off into an embarrassed mumble.
“Sorry, Lisha, I didn’t catch that. What do you need?”
Her hand pressed against her lower belly, rubbing slowly. “Any rags? Old rags I can use for…” Miserable blue eyes met his, and for a second, it felt like the world—her world—was ending in that mortified gaze. “I’m bleeding.”
Daddy instincts kicked into high gear. Snatching the skillet off the heat, he strode over to her and crouched, checking her for wounds. Had she slipped in the shower? Damn it, he’d told her not to use those facilities unless he was within earshot. “Where, princess?”