Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby) (15 page)

I was hoping for answers tonight.

What if I got none?

Glancing up, I caught the flicker of light in a high window.
Thank god.
Some of the tension in my ribs eased away. Steeling my nerves, I banged my knuckles on the door—first softly, then louder.

Hovering on the front steps, I tucked my hands in my coat and waited. Around me, the night was giving me goosebumps. Yes, I knew this town, but that also meant I knew this area wasn't the most... friendly. Standing here made me feel like a target, though for who, I couldn't say.

The crunch of the door tipping inwards made me jump. Through the crack, I saw Fiddle's angular face. In the shadows, his eyes were more sunken in than usual. “Who the fuck are—Flora?” Blinking, he darted a nervous look over my shoulder. “Shit, what the hell are you doing here?”

Peering behind me, wondering what he was looking for, I said, “Don't act stupid. You
know
why I'm here. I need to talk about my sister.”

He licked his lips, his stare never settling. “Claudine, right. She's still missing?”

Crossing my arms, I nodded. “A week now. Last I knew, she was with you.”

Finally, Fiddle shot his frazzled eyes back to me. They studied my face, scanned for things I didn't understand—but that raised the hairs on my neck. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I—you were dating.” My eyebrows crawled high, why was he acting so weird?
Paranoid,
I corrected myself.
He's being paranoid. He must think he's in trouble. How do I calm him down?
Under Fiddle's narrowed glare, I said as gently as I could, “It's okay. I just want a lead so I can have somewhere to search. I didn't finger you as a suspect to the cops or anything, alright?”

That last part was a lie, but a pointless one. The cops didn't care that Fiddle had been with her, they'd said as much.

For a long minute, the lanky guy considered me. His fingertips on the edge of the door were white as bone. Waves of unease came off of him in thick droves. Then, like I'd imagined it all, he flashed a smile and beckoned me inside. “Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so tense. I just—shit, she's really been gone a whole week?”

Sweat slid down my spine. I ignored my instincts, following him inside. This was as close as I'd ever gotten to some answers. I wasn't going to back down after so many dead ends. “Yeah. Like I said, I'm just trying to get a lead. She texted me around ten at night last Thursday, saying she'd be sleeping here, and not to wait up.”

Inside the stairwell, I could hardly see Fiddle's expression. I thought he stiffened, his hands pausing on the door to his home. Why was it so quiet? It was like no one else lived in this building. “Huh. What'd you do when she didn't show up the next day?”

“I tried calling her, then you,” I said. “But neither of you responded.”

Nodding, he motioned for me to go through the doorway. “I lost my phone for a few days.” The yellow light from a single lamp—what I'd seen from the street—made it obvious the apartment needed a good cleaning. “You were worried, but you really didn't talk to the police?”

Spinning slowly in place, I tried to imagine my sister staying in this dump. “No.” Again with the same lie. I needed him to be at ease to get more information.

“And your family? They aren't helping you search?”

Blinking, my attention shifted back to Fiddle. “Didn't she ever talk about our parents?”

“She mentioned they were... not so involved.”

I bit back a laugh. “That's a nice way to put it. Yeah. They've been weird about this whole mess. It's like, no one seems to care that she's missing!” Ruffling my hair, I pleaded at him with my eyes. “Can you tell me
anything?
”

Tugging at the front of his thick sweater, he gave me a sideways smile. “I'll do what I can. Sit, relax. I'll get us something to drink.”

Crumbling onto the couch, I returned his smile, though mine was weaker. “Thanks. And thanks for talking to me.” I hadn't noticed how many knots were in my stomach, but now that I was sitting, they began to relax. “When was the last time you actually saw her?”

His voice called out, saying, “Hmn, let me think.” He was hidden in the small kitchen; glasses clinked, liquid sloshing. When he came back, he sat across from me, handing me a cold cup of something red. “I'd say that night, like you mentioned.”

Sipping my drink, I wrinkled my nose.
Ugh, strong.
“Okay, what time did she leave? And did she seem okay?”

Reclining until he looked downright comfortable, Fiddle drummed his free hand on his knee. “Shit. I don't know. Pretty late, she looked... distressed.”

My heart swelled up, clogging my throat; I washed it free with more of the drink. “So she didn't sleep here, like she said she was going to?”

Fiddle tensed, perching his lips on his glass. “Guess she changed her mind.”

None of this was making sense. Sitting forward, I noticed an odd tightness in my skull. I was getting upset over this news, news I
should
have gotten days ago. “Why didn't you tell the police?”

“What, and incriminate myself?” His lips pulled high at the edges until they revealed his pale gums. “I'm not that stupid, girl.”

“Flora,” I mumbled. My tongue wasn't behaving, it was too thick... too slow. “It's Flora, don't call me 'girl' I... what's wrong with me?” Shaking myself, I went to set the drink down on the floor. I couldn't have said how, but suddenly I was stretched out, the rug kissing my cheek. I didn't remember falling.

What was happening?

A foot appeared by my head. “Shh,” Fiddle whispered, bending to retrieve my glass. “You almost spilled this. What a mess that would have been.”

Talking had become the hardest thing in existence. Moving was a mere dream. Struggling, I turned my head so I could stare up through my blurring vision.

“Sorry about this,” he said. The white-glow of a cellphone highlighted his hard features. Was he calling someone? “Lucky's list was complete, but you came sniffing around. I'm sure he won't mind an extra girl. Loose ends are dangerous.”

Lucky? Who the hell was that? The synapses in my brain tried to fire, connecting the strings of this whole scenario. It really had been Fiddle who'd done this. He was responsible for Claudine vanishing! I'd been right, but what good did that do me?

I'd walked right into his grasp, made it clear no one knew I was even here. I'd set up the easiest path for this bastard to drug me without consequence. I wanted to be angry, but I was too exhausted. Too hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, talking to someone on the line. “I've got another, last minute addition. I'll need a pickup quick. An hour? Sounds perfect. See you soon.” Hiding his phone in his jeans, he sighed. Settling on the couch, his position made it so I could see only the soles of his shoes. There was no regret in his tone. “You were too easy. At least Claudine fought more.”

Claudine.

You can call me insane, but as I slumped there, lifeless and numb, I had a burst of hope. A part of me that flickered to life, realizing with the utmost clarity that—even if I'd fucked up—I was still on the right track.

My goal had been to find my sister. If I'd understood that phone call, I was about to endure the same fate as Claudine. The chance of us meeting, somewhere down the line...

It had just increased in my favor.

As I faded away into the claustrophobic ink of sleep, I had one last satisfying thought. One final mantra to keep me sane as I awaited for whatever monster was crouched on the path ahead.

It's for the best.

Ronin

––––––––

“L
ooks like we're at an impasse.” Repo crossed his arms.

“I don't much care for your bullshit words. I don't give a fuck that you're
willing
to give us control of all your drug business. From what I heard a shift in your leadership is getting you out of it anyways. I couldn't give a fuck about your leftovers. What I want is the Steel Veins the fuck out of New Jersey. All of it,” Lucky, the Knights' president, stated definitively.

Lucky looked to be in his late forties, he kept himself in decent enough shape. He wore a worn deck of cards in the breast pocket of his loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt. I'd heard he was quite the gambler. That was about the only good thing about the man.

This is going about as well as I'd expected.

The Knights of the Only Order were the new kids on the block, as far as the big clubs went. New clubs pop up all the time, but few have their tenacity. In the last five years the Knights have been invading and eradicating all of their neighbors. They've been growing faster than any club in history. There's a goddamn waiting list to become prospects because all their members are making money hand over fist, and no one outside their patch fully knows why.

Whatever the reason, it was bad news.

I leaned against the wall of the brothel, focusing on everything but the conversation. That was Repo's job. I was here to make sure that Repo got out alive. That's why Remy sent me, personally. I was the only one crazy enough to walk into what was most likely a trap and be able to walk out again.

Of all the places to pick as neutral ground, why here?
I wondered. Between the open layout, people coming in and out, and all the near nude girls walking around, this was a terrible place to have a private, focused conversation.

Unless that was exactly why it was chosen; to keep us distracted.

I was downright excited when they told me where this meet up was taking place, but seeing it first hand was disheartening. Whoever ran this place kept the girls in a drug-induced stupor. They floated from one John to the next like they were set to automatic. The whole place had this downtrodden vibe to it that, at the very least, did absolutely nothing for me. As far as I knew, the Knights didn't own the building, they just frequented it a lot.

“And I'm telling you that's not going to happen,” Repo said. “We have chapters here that have been rooted for decades. You need to show the appropriate amount of respect. The Steel Veins are easily twice as big as the Knights.”

“For now.” Lucky shrugged, reclining in his chair.

Those two words rang like a dinner bell. This whole tedious meeting made it clear that Lucky and his guys were hungry and ambitious. This wasn't just about turf negotiations, they saw the Veins as their next meal. I tried not to think about it much. Larger club problems were for someone higher up on the totem pole than me.

This club wasn't to be taken lightly, that's why Repo was sent. Remy'd have come himself, but he knew they'd try to kill him. By sending Repo he wasn't giving the Knights the chance for a preemptive strike. That, and Repo was damn good at his job.

“Why allow us to come if you didn't want to negotiate?” Repo asked.

“Hey, wallpaper,” Lucky said, looking at me. “What do you think of your boyfriend's question? Why would I do that?”

Because you're more than the dumb thug you portray yourself to be. Because you want to gauge the Veins' response and see how much of a threat we thought you were
.

And because fuck you, that's why.

“No idea,” I said.

“Of course not.” Lucky laughed and whistled to someone outside of the room for a beer. “Look at you. You're a fucking pet refrigerator. I'm surprised you can speak at all.”

My eyes narrowed. Repo glared intensely at me, trying to persuade me from doing anything foolish. I stayed silent.

A topless girl promptly came in and handed the perspiring bottle to Lucky. He slapped her ass so hard as she left that it launched her forward a step. The girl yelped, biting back a pained cry and quickly dashing from the room.

Lucky grinned at me and shook the sting of the slap out of his hand. “You make sure that wall doesn't fall down, huh?” He shifted his attention back to Repo and they resumed the discussion. Repo had briefed me on the special kind of shitbag that Lucky was before we pulled in, but even still, this asshole was really testing my patience.

Another thing that went right up my ass was that they didn't honor the initial agreement about how many enforcers were allowed. Lucky had his muscle—a large, scarred-up Serbian guy who wore a sergeant-at-arms patch, standing behind his chair. He also had at least one other guy pretending to be a brothel client in the room on the other side of the grand staircase.

A door on the far side of the stairs was suddenly pushed open, a train of girls led in by a smartly dressed fat guy. A third biker coming down the stairs greeted him. He wasn't one of Lucky's guys, but they certainly knew each other.

The biker had the girls line up against a wall, telling them to stay there and wait. They were dirty and disoriented, definitely not brothel material, at least not in this country.

One scared girl immediately caught my eye. A redhead in an overstuffed coat, she looked different than the others in a way I had to take a second to place. Despite being caught in the same drug-induced haze as the rest, it was impossible to mistake the energy, the freshness, that the other well-worn women didn't have.

She kept lowering her eyes, sinking into her coat like it was armor. The other girls were limp, some with their breasts hanging out, or close to it.

Modesty in a brothel? What the fuck was this?

The fat man in the suit walked in and whispered something to Lucky, darkening his expression. All I caught was one name:
Tully
.

When the man had finished talking, the pres roughly grabbed him by his collar, jerking him in closer. “That micromanaging little...” Lucky muttered. “You drill it into my brother's fucking head that if he nags me with that shit one more time, I'm going to shove my fist so far up his ass, I'll be able to use him as a fucking sock puppet!” Lucky pulled the frightened messenger to the side and in hushed tones continued, but being that the room was quiet and waiting on him, I heard every word he said. “I am well aware of the shipment date, so are all of my men. The girls will be there on time. Until then, they get moved when and how I fucking say they get moved.”