Thankfully, he shifted gears. “But I started gettin’ complaints from the customers. Crank makes her crazy. Real paranoid. I was afraid someone might call the cops. And I knew if that bitch got hauled in, she’d spill her guts on anybody. And with our history, she’d drag me in out of spite.”
“Yeah, I can see how you’d be concerned, you being completely innocent and all.”
He shrugged again, ignoring her cynicism.
“Anyway, I kicked her ass out, and I hadn’t seen her back. End of story.” He pointed a finger at her. “I never did nothin’ illegal. She did me for free, and it’s her word against mine on anythin’ else. Who’d believe a crank whore?”
The jerk walked away, saying, “I gotta get back to work.”
With her ears ringing and her clothes smelling of smoke, Jess needed a breath of fresh air. She had a lot on her mind as she walked out the front door of Dirty Monty’s. How did Mandy Vincent turn into a pathetic street urchin named Desiree? And what connection did this woman have to Seth Harper? A part of her was scared to know the truth—the part with the nagging voice that questioned who Harper really was. He had too many secrets. And although she’d given him plenty of opportunity to speak up, he refused to share.
She reached for the car keys in her jean jacket, but as she headed for her van, a hulking man blocked her path, his ugly mug mercifully steeped in shadow. And another man, who looked Middle Eastern, leaned against a truck parked on the street, sucking on a cigarette. He tossed his smoke aside and joined the one who stood in her way.
Jess held her ground, assessing her options. She felt the weight of the Colt Python holstered under her jacket. But if she played her cards right, she wouldn’t have to use it. Her backup plan had more potential to bail her out. She slipped a hand into her pocket, taking hold of the M84 stun grenade.
If the guys were the Welcome Wagon for the block, she wanted to make a good first impression.
With a smile, she said, “If you boys hurry, you can still make karaoke hour.”
¦ Uploaded by Coral ¦
CHAPTER 6
“I hear you been looking for Desiree,” the smoker said in accented English. “Who are you? And what’s your interest in her?”
Dark skin with piercing eyes and a prominent nose, the guy kept his distance. Real cagey.
“Because I can see we’re going to be such good friends, you can call me by my first name, Oprah. And my interest is personal.” Inside her jacket pocket, she wrapped her fingers around the M84 stun grenade canister, feeling for the detonation pin and lever.
“Not good enough.” The taller man joined the conversation. “And for the record, attitude don’t work with us.”
Jess sized up the two men. What Beef Boy lacked in gray matter, he made up for with brute strength and the ego of a bully who hadn’t been bested. He was posturing to impress her with his bulk, but she had no doubt he worked for the smaller man with the nasty nicotine habit. And if things got dicey, the smoker would be the man to watch. He had the cold unreadable eyes of a predator who didn’t have to prove himself.
“I got mixed feelings on that,” she said. “Bad news is, I gotta toss out all my best material ’cause attitude is all I got. But on the plus side, that means I’ve got nothin’ to say.”
She tried sidestepping the muscle, but he blocked her, saying, “We ain’t done.” His right eye twitched like a warning blinker.
“Then make your point. I might cooperate if we had a little give-and-take.” She directed her question to the smoker. “What’s your interest in Desiree? Does she work for you, or is she a good customer?”
From what the bartender told her, she didn’t figure Desiree had a pimp, but she didn’t want to make assumptions. If she had to guess, she’d put money that this guy was her dealer. Yet why would he take a personal interest in a small-time streetwalker turning tricks for product? More questions stirred in her mind than she had answers.
But one loomed larger than the rest.
Desiree had made herself scarce for a reason. Being a hooker with an addiction, she’d made a tough decision to lie low. What had scared her enough to stray from the demons she knew? Jess had a feeling the girl knew what had happened to Harper and didn’t want to get dragged into it. Or maybe she’d set him up in the first place in exchange for money to feed her habit. Another real possibility. Jess knew that when she located the troubled girl, any answers she’d give would give her no more than a fifty-fifty shot at helping Seth.
Finding Desiree would either prove his innocence or lock him in a box for life.
“You’re not understanding how things work here.” The smoker lowered his voice and stepped forward. His version of “less is more” had worked. “I ask the questions, and you answer. If you can’t abide by this, then you’ve got a serious problem.”
She kept her mouth shut for two reasons. One, if this asshole believed he had the upper hand, he might let his guard down enough to let her stun grenade do the talking. And two, keeping her trap shut gave her time to think up a lie worthy of her fierce skills.
“Now tell me why you’re looking for Desiree,” the smoker persisted.
The side of beef to his right crossed his arms, grimacing in thought. Apparently, thinking was a challenge.
“She’s my sister.” She shrugged. “Half sister, actually. Our mother wanted me to track her down. Any idea where I can find her?”
Jess always appreciated the irony in faking sincerity.
“What do I look like…4–1–1?” The big guy smirked. His face made the effort look like it hurt. “I ain’t interested in makin’ this a family reunion.”
“That’s too bad. Havin’ you in our family would’ve taken pressure off me bein’ the black sheep.”
Having a finger on a detonator gave her a whole new appreciation for the word “empowered.”
“Just say the word, boss. Gimme a reason.” He reached into his pocket and took out a switchblade. The whisper of its jutting blade caused the hair at the nape of her neck to stand on end. These guys wouldn’t be satisfied with a hand slap.
“You don’t look like the kind of guy who needs a reason to hurt a woman.” She locked eyes with his, not backing down. “I bet you ran with scissors when you were a kid. Didn’t your momma teach you about the danger of sharp objects?”
“I ain’t worried about that, but you should be.” The eye twitched again.
“Taking a knife to an unarmed woman, that’s the mark of a real coward.”
“But it does get your attention, don’t it?”
She stood her ground, her body taut and ready. Timing would be everything.
He clenched his jaw and made a move toward her. Jess clutched the grenade, primed to react, but a man and woman walked out of Dirty Monty’s. They were talking and laughing too loud, a reaction to the noise inside. The man hesitated and stared at the two men next to Jess. And everything came to a grating stop.
“What are you lookin’ at?” Muscle for Brains pocketed his blade and glared until the man backed off without a word.
The two latecomers to the party had assessed the situation and opted not to get involved. They headed around the corner with heads down and tails between their legs. In the ‘hood, once the action went down, she’d be on her own. Good Samaritans these days were as rare as a straightforward politician.
“Whoever Desiree was before, she isn’t now,” the smoker reached in his pocket for another cigarette and lit up. “She is no longer your concern. If you’re smart, you’ll walk away. Forget about finding her.”
Anytime the guy opened his mouth, she got a cold chill. He had defused the tension, but she had the feeling he liked to strike when least expected. A primitive-yet-restrained cruelty hardened his words. Unleashed, the guy would do serious damage.
The question was—would he let her walk or would he feel the need to demonstrate?
“I appreciate the advice. And I’ll certainly give your words of wisdom all the consideration they’re due.” Her
