Chapter 21

Mandy

Why I decided that leaving the city while I still had broken and bruised bones was a good idea, I’d never know. More importantly, I had to question my own smarts when I chose to hop on the I-15 south to Los Angeles. It was a little over a four-hour drive and a few freeways and driving with one hand wasn’t the smartest plan I’d ever come up with, but at least I was still breathing.

LA was so damn expensive, plus, traffic was atrocious. On the other hand, it was a great place to get lost for a while. With millions of people in the city and more flooding the limits every day hoping to become the next big thing, I would be just another anonymous face in the crowd. That meant I could heal properly and figure out what came next.

If I ever made it. God, I was stupid to think I could. Not that making the best decisions was my forte or anything.

Pain seared through my midsection and shot up my arm all the way to my skull. After about a half hour of driving, it was so bad I pulled over and closed my eyes. Deep breathing wasn’t helping me right now. I contemplated taking a painkiller but I knew if I did I’d be zoned out in the scorching desert heat for hours. Chances were my little piece of shit car would overheat and I’d never get the hell out of here.

It took almost an hour of praying to whoever was up there and long deep breaths before the pain dropped from a nine to a six and I figured that was probably as good as it was going to get. If only I could get my body to listen, to sit up so I could strap the damn seatbelt back on and get back on the road. To yet another temporary stop on my way to my real life.

Whatever the hell that meant.

“Holy shit!” The tap on my window was loud and scared the hell out of me. I looked up and found Detective Haynes’ green eyes peering down at me through the window. When my heart finally decided to stop trying to kill me, I let the window down. “What can I do for you, detective?”

“Going somewhere?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, trying to escape the biker gang that beat me to a pulp. It may be hard for you to remember since you guys don’t give a shit.” He flashed that annoyed cop look that did nothing to stop my frustration.

“We need to talk to you, Ms. Sutton.” His voice might have scared me if cops didn’t always use that tone to get their way. So I said nothing.

“Preferably at the station.”

I nodded and tried to get out of the car, but it was harder than getting in, with the steering wheel in the way. I finally made it out with a triumphant groan and turned back to get my phone, hissing out the pain as I reached across the seat to the center console.

“Got it.”

I grinned like I’d accomplished something really big, but I turned and found Haynes with his gun aimed at me and froze. My grin was gone and so was any goodwill I had for the man.

When he saw my phone he holstered his gun. Did he really think I was going to unload a pistol on him?

“We’ll have a uni come and get your car.”

“No, you won’t. I’ll drive myself.”

He sighed. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Well considering how twitchy you are, I think it is. So either I drive myself or I don’t go.”

The younger detective finally stepped from the car, his smarmy grin making me want to punch him in his weasel face. “You’re coming with us,” he insisted firmly.

I ignored him, my gaze staying on Haynes. “Am I under arrest or being detained?”

“No, we’re not arresting you. We have some questions. As well as a few concerns about your safety.”

“Then, I’ll be right behind you.” He gave a reluctant nod and tried one more time, but I brushed him off. “Someone must be dead if you’re suddenly giving a shit about me.”

His lack of response kept me on high alert, shaken and anxious the entire ride back to LVMPD. I was tired, sweaty and in too much pain to even contemplate things like manners and being polite. I parked on the street and stepped out, looking up at the white building. I’d rather be anywhere else than walk inside, yet I crossed the street where Haynes waited for me.

His bushy eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Are you all right?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Detective. Let’s just get this over with.” I followed him inside the precinct, buzzing with activity, or at least seeming to do so. They were probably letting all the calls go to voicemail and playing solitaire or on Facebook. The room was so bare and stereotypical it had to be an interrogation room. I sat gingerly on the edge of one of the hard metal chairs that had a fucking wobble.

“So what is it you want with me? I have places to go and people to see.”

He sighed and waited a long minute until Detective Napoleon Complex joined us. “Where were you last night?”

“At home, where I’ve been for the past nine days. Recovering. And no, there’s no one to confirm that.” I really wished I could have crossed my arms, so I could glare at them and let both men know they didn’t scare me.

“That’s too bad,” Dodds said and slid several pictures across the table. Pictures of a woman with stringy black hair, grey jeans and a lacy black tank top. With her face beaten and swollen the way it was, she could have been anyone. But the hummingbird tattoo between her thumb and forefinger, and the Claddagh ring on her right hand with the sapphire birthstone inside told me exactly who it was.

“Krissy. What happened to her?” I looked at Haynes because dealing with the rookie might end up with me in handcuffs.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Anything you want to tell us?” Dodds leaned forward, smacking his hand on the lopsided metal table.

“I have a few things I’d like to tell you, little man.”

He was on his feet, leaning over the table in seconds, his face red, spit flying out of his mouth as he called me every name he could think of. No matter what he said, though, he couldn’t intimidate me. I barked back at him, “If this is how you treat crime victims, I’ll be sure to let everyone know.”

Pushing off the table with my left hand, I stood and stared down at Haynes, shaking my head.

“We both know you’re no fucking victim, Mandy.” He spat my name out like it left a bad taste on his tongue. “Tell us what happened and maybe you won’t end up in prison for the rest of your life.”

I laughed. “I’ll tell you two things, Officer Dodd. One,” I held up my left forefinger, “if I could swing a punch right now, it would be worth the assaulting an officer charge. Two, I’m leaving.”

“I don’t think so.” He blocked my path and my left hand bunched and flexed, aching to knock his little ass out.

“So I’m being arrested? Great.” I took a step back and smiled. “Lawyer.”

Haynes groaned because I knew he’d been trying to avoid it. Cops hated when you exercised your rights. “Don’t leave town, Ms. Sutton.”

“Whatever. Try not to get me killed while you guys do your job, if you remember what that is.”

I stared at Dodds until he moved out of my way, yanking the door open so it smacked against the painted concrete wall and marched out.

Fucking cops, useless. I made my way back to the car and fished my phone out of my purse, not easy with only one hand available to me, my other sweltering in the cast. Before I could start my car I had to make the call to the one person I knew would help without asking too many questions.

“Hey, Teddy, I need a favor.”

***

Looking around the lavishly appointed office, complete with a Renoir on the walls, I felt completely out of my depth and pretty sure that this was the dumbest shit I’d ever done. I was either about to make a deal with the devil or take control of my life. What possessed me to walk into Siren Resort & Casino and demand to speak with the owner and CEO, Drake Foster, I hadn’t a clue. I could blame the painkillers or the late-night staring at the mute TV in my motel room, delusions of grandeur or just plain fucking survival. But the truth was, this was it. My only shot. Two days had passed since the cops told me not to leave town and they hadn’t said anything more about it.

They were no fucking help. Roadkill MC would kill me before the cops pulled their heads out of their respective asses.

“It’s pretty ballsy of you to come in here like this, considering.”

Drake studied me, and I studied him right back. He was a handsome guy, in a mobbed-up kind of way with dark hair he wore slicked back, beautiful skin a deep olive tone that said he spent more time on his yacht than in a windowless casino. He had big brown eyes with large flakes of gold and green, the five-thousand-dollar suit bringing the green to the forefront. But as beautiful as they were, his eyes were cold. And hard.

Yeah, considering that I’d admitted to Drake Foster that back in the day I’d counted cards in what was now his casino. “I know. I’ve been warned that I might end up in a shallow grave in the desert.”

“Yet here you are,” he said with a smile that smacked of respect even as he leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankle on one end of his desk.

“Here I am,” I repeated while I gathered my words. “I decided to risk it because I was a minor at the time and using a fake I.D., which is as bad for you and the gaming commission as it is for me and the desert. Besides, I’m admitting to it because I don’t do it anymore. Haven’t since I left this city a decade ago.”

He nodded, understanding the truth of my words. “Then why, Ms. Sutton, are you here?”

“Because I don’t have a fucking choice.” I sucked in a shallow breath because it was still the only thing I could manage and then told him all about Krissy and Roadkill, the debt and the tournament. “I don’t really know what else to do other than keep my entry to the tournament.”

Drake looked ready to throw me out of his casino right on my ass, but I kept talking. “I don’t want to do this, but the cops are no help and the gang has already killed the girl who owed the money.”

Why that didn’t let me off the hook for this dumb shit, I didn’t know. Then again, gangsters didn’t really require logic to do their crimes. “I’m certain I won’t win because I don’t play casino games anymore but if I place, the money will go back to you or the casino, I don’t care. I just have to be seen playing.”

As he stared at me, I could see in his eyes he thought I was crazy or stupid. My money was on both.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, little girl,” he said assessing me before he said anything further.

I shrugged, not bothering to respond to the comment meant to rattle me. “It’s dangerous either way. This way gives me a shot to live. I’m not trying to play on your sympathy, all right?”

“No?”

My laugh was harsh and bitter. “Fuck no. Not that you have any to give, but I’m not.”

“Then what are you doing?” he asked, brows arched high in question.

“I’m hoping for a fucking miracle.”

I didn’t know what I was thinking. Maybe he’d disqualify me because of my past; it was stupid, whatever it was. I could kick myself for even thinking this could work. I had yet to meet a person I could rely on, especially those of the male persuasion. I stood, biting back the wince in my ribs just in case he thought I was trying for sympathy again. “Thanks, anyway.”

“That’s it? You’re just giving up?” He shook his head and smacked his lips. “Guess you’re not the survivor you think you are.”

“Maybe not, but I do know when to cut my losses.” I was disappointed but not surprised as I made my way to the door, ready to get as far from him and this place as possible.

“But you haven’t lost, not yet. I have a counteroffer.”

He grinned, and I braced myself for a disgusting proposition that included me on my knees and his dick in my mouth.

“I’m listening.”

“My pastry chef ran off with one of my high rollers to live a life of luxury off the coast of Spain, and I have a new gourmet confectionery opening in three months. Will you be healed by then?” I shrugged and told him about the doctor’s six to ten-week prognosis.

“You want the job?”

Do I want a job making gourmet sweet treats for rich mother fuckers with money to spend and a discerning palate? Fuck yeah.

“Uhm, I do.”

Even though it meant I’d have to stay in Vegas, which meant letting Teddy and Jana and Savior draw me into a life filled with bikers. Bikers like Ammo, the best dude I’d ever known, but also bikers like Roadkill MC. It was a mixed bag of shit and I wasn’t sure I was ready for all that.

“You might want to have a backup in case my therapy doesn’t go as expected.” The way my life went, it probably wouldn’t.

“So we have a deal.” It wasn’t a question and we both knew it.

“We have a deal.”

“Good, because this makes everything easier. Be here Friday at five.” Before I could say another word, he picked up his phone and dialed.