“You don’t know the half of it.” He laughs. “I’d fill you in if we had more time, but I assume you didn’t come here to discuss my private life.”
“No, this is about mine.” I sigh. “Have you ever heard of a guy named Diaz? I don’t have a first name. He’s some sort of loan shark…”
“The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I can’t say I deal with many loan sharks. I could find out for you. Got a minute to wait?” Keaton picks up his cell phone.
“Yeah, take your time.” I nod.
Keaton leaves the room to make the call. I don’t know who he’s reaching out to, but I really don’t care who the source is if I get the information I need. I have to assume Diaz can’t be very high on the hierarchy in the city if he’s letting people pay their gambling debts on a payment plan. It’s good for Hudson’s sake, but most of the ones I’ve heard about aren’t that generous.
Being alone in Keaton’s office makes my thoughts drift back to Kiana. She’s probably angry at me. Furious. Maybe even a little hurt after I threatened her. Part of me wishes I could take it back, but another part of me realizes it was the one thing that made her stop fighting. If I can fix the problem, she’ll have to see I was on the right track from the beginning—even if she doesn’t like my involvement.
“Well…” Keaton walks back into his office and closes the door. “Miguel Diaz is his name. He’s small time. Barely a blip on anyone’s radar. He operates his business out of Pasqual’s Tavern. It’s neutral territory, so there aren’t any toes you can step on there.”
“Good to hear.” I give him a nod.
“Want to tell me what this is about?” Keaton sits down at his desk. “I thought you investor-types got your gambling kicks playing the stock market.”
“Yeah, I like to lose my money legally.” I look down and laugh. “I’m trying to handle a problem for a friend.”
More than a friend, I hope. If she’ll even talk to me after I unlock my bedroom and let her go.
“Want me to send one of my guys with you?” Keaton cocks his head inquisitively.
“Nah.” I hold up my hand to decline. “I can handle it myself; I just like to know who I’m messing with before I start trouble. Thank you for the information and your time.”
“No problem at all,”he says as he stands to shake my hand.
Keaton is a good man. I’m glad to have someone like him I can call when a problem pops up that is outside of my usual span of control.
Miguel Diaz—the jury is still out. I don’t know if he’s just trying to get paid, or if he’s taking advantage of the situation in front of him. I’ve never had a problem with bookies or loan sharks. They don’t force people to make bets or take money, and if something is owed, it needs to be paid. Hudson is the one who fucked up, so if there’s a way to handle this like a businessman, I will. I’m sure Lawson did the same thing—until he ran out of money to pay his son’s debts.
Now I have to foot the bill. Because I can’t stand the alternative.
I arrive at Pasqual’s Tavern about an hour after leaving Keaton’s office. It isn’t in the best part of town. I’d feel safer if I wasn’t walking in unarmed, but I have an idea if it’s the kind of place where they pat you down before you get through the door. I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to myself.
“Who are you?” A man who looks as rugged as the place he’s standing in front of approaches me when I get close to the door.
“My name is Bram Ward. I’m here to see Mr. Diaz.” I give him a nod that is as friendly as possible.
“Mr. Diaz expecting you?” He puts his hand on the door.
“Nah, but he’ll want to talk to me. I want to talk to him about Hudson Brooks’ debt,” I reply and stop in front of him.
“Just a minute…” He steps into the tavern, and the door slams.
Pasqual’s doesn’t appear to be open to the public, especially strangers. That worries me a bit. It’s the kind of attention I didn’t really want to draw, and I don’t even have a way to protect myself if things go sideways. Hopefully they won’t. At the end of the day, Diaz wants his money. Kiana won’t be making anymore payments. This is the way he gets it.
“He’ll see you.” The man pushes the door open and motions for me to enter.
“Thank you.” I step into the tavern.
It looks better on the inside than it does on the outside. The place is clean, at least. There is a mixture of people who look like locals and guys wearing suits too expensive for this side of town—like me. They obviously work for Diaz.
“He’s in the back.” The man who let me in points and steps outside.
I feel like the center of attention as I walk through the tavern. Everyone is staring at me—their eyes say I don’t belong, and I agree with that. I’d rather be anywhere than here right now.
I spot the man I assume to be Diaz in the back of the tavern. His eyes are locked on me and narrow as I approach him. He looks like a thug in a suit with scars on his knuckles, one across his nose, and a face that would be terrifying if you ran into him on a dark night. I’ve seen worse, but I can see why someone would be afraid of him on sight alone. He motions for me to sit down when I get to his table.
“Not who I was expecting.” His voice is like gravel. “I thought I had met everyone who gives a fuck about Hudson
