Chapter Ten
The next morning, Justice had the opportunity to just observe Etta without her being aware. She slept on her side, curled into a ball. Her hair resembled a tangle of red ribbons on the pillow.
Justice wanted to kiss her awake, sleeping-beauty-style, and then tangle his hands in her tresses, holding her still while exploring her mouth once more. Etta wore an old threadbare T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. The covers were rucked up, revealing her long shapely legs. He remembered how silky her thighs had been.
Last night, it had been too murky in the darkness to get a real picture of what she was wearing. This morning, he could see the outline of her full breasts against the faded fabric. Her nipples were turgid, pushing at the straining material, as though about to break through.
Justice fancied himself a breast man, and hers were exceptional. He wanted to kneel on the floor and capture a nipple between his teeth, suck it until the little nub stood out in hard relief.
But he did none of those things. He’d promised her he’d be a gentleman and he’d keep his vow, even if it devastated him.
Instead, he contented himself with kissing her forehead. Justice had never met anyone like her, and most likely never would. Etta was kind, beautiful, and sexy. What’s more, she understood what he’d been through, because someone had put her through hell, too. His feelings for her ran deep. Justice wouldn’t call it love, not yet, but it was damn near close.
And he knew Etta felt the same way about him, even though she resisted. They were drawn to one another because they’d both been smashed into little bitty pieces. Yet their jagged edges meshed.
They were both wounded, devastated by the terrible things they’d survived. Other than Trick and Woolly, he’d never met someone else who understood what it was like to live in a constant state of terror. Only she’d survived someone who should’ve loved her, protected her from the world.
He left her a note on the nightstand, saying he was going to work, and he’d be back later on tonight. Come nightfall, he’d be back in her bed again. He made up his mind then and there, he wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch anymore. From here on out, they’d be bedding down together, even if they hadn’t made love yet.
Justice walked into the living room and pushed the curtains aside to get a better look. It was broad daylight, and she had a passel of nosy neighbors surrounding the house. Etta should be relatively secure. Justice had to drop by his trailer and pick up a change of clothes, and a quick cup of coffee, if there was time.
When he pulled into the driveway, he found Ace seated at the picnic table. Justice had an old percolator, and Ace had filled it with coffee and set it near the fire. It bubbled and hissed as it brewed, and the smell was delicious.
“Hey.” Justice nodded.
“Mornin’.”
“What are you doin’ here?”
He shrugged. “Lookin’ for you.”
“Well, I’m gonna grab a clean shirt and wash my face. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be waitin’ for ya.” Ace yawned and stretched his arms over his head.
A few minutes later, Justice emerged once more to find Ace pouring them both cups of coffee. He’d washed off and threw on some clothes. For the first time in quite a while, he felt better. Last night, he’d gotten some decent shuteye. Lying beside Etta probably had something to do with it.
Being around her, relaxed him. Conversely, she also excited him, made his head spin. It was a strange combination, one which he wanted to explore in further detail.
“Ain’t seen you lately.” Ace took a sip.
“Yeah, well, Axel told me to take a break from the club, so that’s what I’m doin’.” He sat on the other side of the picnic table.
“You haven’t been by Hades or the clubhouse.”
“Are you the hall monitor?” Justice was still sore about the way Axel had come down on him, and because Ace hadn’t given him a heads up.
“I’m just worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.” They both knew it was a lie, but Ace didn’t call him out on it.
He sighed. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it went down like that. Axel shouldn’t have sprung it on ya.”
“Don’t be. I shoulda seen it comin’.” Even if it still pissed him off.
“What are you up to these days?”
“Beauregard gave me a job.”
Ace made a face, as though he gotten a taste of something nasty. “The fuck you say. You’re workin’ for those mobster dickheads?”
Justice raised a shushing hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. We helped Vick out.”
“Yeah, she’s one thing, but Beauregard’s another.”
“It ain’t about him. If somebody shoots his ass or locks him up, I’m throwin’ a party. This is about the big boss’s granddaughter.”
“What’s her name…?” Ace’s brow furrowed. “Melanie?”
“Mary.”
He snapped his fingers. “Yeah, Mary Cobb. What’s her deal?”
“Somebody’s after Mary, but they don’t know who.”
“No wonder. The mafia’s got a crap ton of enemies.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t do a damn thing wrong. Ain’t her fault, her granddaddy’s a murderer.”
Ace heaved a sigh. “I guess it could be worse.”
“Well, I don’t got too many other options, do I?” Justice asked pointedly.
“And how’s your social worker?” Ace wasn’t the slightest bit smooth about the subject change.
“She ain’t mine.” Not yet anyway.
“But you want her to be.”
“What if I do?”
“I’d say it’s about goddamn time.” Ace slapped his hand on the table. “What are ya doin’ to win her over?”
“I took her on a bike ride.”
“There’s a start, but you’re gonna have to up your game.”
“What do you mean?” It had been a while since he’d wooed a woman. When it came to hellions, they were up for anything. He hadn’t done more than crook a finger to get one in his bed.
He glanced around them. “No offense, brother, but this is just one step above livin’ in your parent’s basement.”
“Hey!”
“Just bein’ truthful.” Ace raised his hands. “You didn’t bring her over here, did you?”
“No. You sayin’ I shouldn’t?”
“Fuck no. My guess is, she’d dump you on the spot. Why don’t you take Etta out someplace fancy?”
The idea had merit, but pickings were slim in Hell. They had a coffee shop, a tea room, and Hades. He couldn’t take her there. While he loved the food, it wasn’t exactly first date material. Justice needed a spot with a bit of romance.
Besides, he didn’t want to field all the questions from his brothers. Not to mention all the intrusions. There’d be no peace for either of them.
Before they even got their meal, one of the old ladies would try to interrogate the poor girl. Most likely, it would be Eddie. Eddie was Axel’s mother, and her former husband, Joker, had been one of the founders of the club, before his death. As far as the club was concerned, Eddie was the Four Horsemen’s Queen Bee, and she reigned supreme.
No, they needed someplace fancy, and out-of-the-way.
Hmm, Mary might have a suggestion or two.
***
Before work, Etta met Bonnie at Sugar Daddies for a coffee and pastry before work. She’d woken up this morning to find Justice gone, but he’d left a note promising to be back later on.
Hmmm.
Sharing her bed with Justice was becoming a habit. She liked having him around, knowing she could depend on him. Etta had never had such a sense of security with a man before.
Bonnie yawned into her palm. “How do you do these early mornin’ hours?” She worked third shift hours and lived the night owl lifestyle.
“I appreciate you gettin’ up early to see me.”
Bonnie winked. “Honey, I ain’t even been to bed yet. When you called, I was worried, but you seem all moony-eyed.”
“I’m not.” She sat up straighter in the chair.
“Liar.” She raised a brow. “Did you bone the biker?”
Etta could feel her cheeks burning. “What? No!”
“You didn’t get to third-base then, but I’m bettin’ you rounded second.” Her eyes danced. “Tell me what happened. I need some juicy details.”
“Justice stayed the night, but—”
“Hot damn.” Bonnie fanned herself with a hot pink napkin for effect. “You go, girl. I thought you were bound and determined to be a nun.”
“No, it’s not like that.” Etta had the sudden urge to kick her friend’s shins.
“Oh really?”
“Stop makin’ that face.”
“Which face?”
“Like you’re already mentally takin’ the wedding photos. Grady made an appearance and Justice offered to be my bodyguard.”
“Hold up. Why didn’t you lead with the most important news?” She straightened up in her seat. “What did the bastard do?”
“Popped up at the post office, bein’ all cryptic. Oh, and he sent a plant to work, too.”
“Sticks of fire?”
“Yup, again.”
“Talk about twisted. You said he ain’t a pyromaniac, but his obsession with fire ain’t healthy.”
“I know, right?”
“So, what are you gonna do about him?”
“I already filed for a protection order, and Justice is gonna be hangin’ around more often.” It ought to be a deterrent. “Plus, I’ve got my gun.” Etta tapped her bag. Just knowing she had the weapon within easy reach, made her feel better.
“If you ask me, you need a Goodbye Earl solution to this problem.”
Etta was familiar with the country song about two female friends who plotted to kill one of their abusive husbands. When she was going through the worst of it, Etta used to crank it up and sing along.
The truth is, she’d thought about murdering Grady all the time, fantasized about it actually. In the beginning, it had creeped her out. Etta wasn’t a violent person by nature, but her therapist told her it was a normal reaction to being battered, provided she never acted on it, of course. Over time, the thought of him rotting away in jail had been enough comfort.
“Well, the authorities are gonna handle this.”
“Yeah, because they did a bang up job last time.”
Hmm.
A thought just occurred to Etta. Bonnie was awful passionate on the subject doing away with her ex.
Bonnie’s abuser was no longer among the living, but Etta wasn’t really clear on what had happened to him exactly. She had always been evasive when asked, and Etta assumed it was too personal a question.
Woah. What if she’d said goodbye to her own Earl?
She gulped. That was a question she never wanted to be answered. And then Etta realized Bonnie was staring at her expectantly.
“Well, I’m countin’ on them to get it right this time.”
Her foot bounced beneath the table. “What if they don’t? You should be more concerned with your protection, than his rights. Promise me you’ll defend yourself, no matter what.”
The words hit like a thousand pound weight on her shoulders.
“I will.” She’d never give Grady the opportunity to harm her again.
She sighed. “All right then, I said my peace, so let’s lighten the subject a bit.”
“Thank goodness. I’m only halfway through my first coffee. It’s way too early for this.”
Bonnie raised an eyebrow. “So how’d he look, Grady, I mean? Does he have a gut?” It was a petty question, but Etta loved it.
“Grady’s completely bald now.” Her lips trembled, as she tried to stifle a laugh, and then they both giggled.
She’d been on edge since running into Grady, bracing for impact. The tension release helped.
“So when you compare Grady with Justice…?”
“There’s no contest. Justice is…” She trailed off, distracted by the mere thought of him. “Handsome, intelligent, funny, sexy, the whole package. He’s pretty amazin’, actually.”
“Oh, no.” Bonnie wagged a finger. “This biker boy sounds like fun, but don’t get attached.”
“I’m not attached.”
“Yet. The way I see it, men are good in the sack and suck at the rest.”
Up until Justice had appeared on her doorstep, she’d been content to go about her business without a man in her life. While Bonnie liked to screw men and then kick them out of her bed. Etta supposed each of them coped with the trauma differently.
“You sound jaded.” Etta apparently didn’t have the market cornered on world-weariness.
“I lost all my romantic notions a long time ago and you should too. When it comes to your heart, be a realist.”
Etta wondered what Bonnie had been like before being battered. Had she been light and carefree? Now, she sounded bitter, callous even. She didn’t want that to happen to her, and Justice had given her a glimmer of hope.
Earlier she’d been unsure, but Etta knew Justice was different than Grady. She could feel it. Justice protected her, cared for her, was concerned about her wellbeing. Last night, sleeping beside him, she’d never felt so safe in her life.
“Okay, enough about me.” Etta checked her watch. “I’ve got about a half an hour before work, so let’s talk about you.”
“What about me? Wanna hear about the banker I banged the other night?”
“Um, no.” Etta scrunched up her face. “I wanna hear about the hot FBI agent hangin’ out at your place.”
“Number one, he’s not hot.”
“Oh, yes, he is. Trust me.”
“He’s a nosy prick, and don’t interrupt me. Two, he’s been here every night for a week, like a stalker.” She scowled, as though picturing his face.
“Has he? How interestin’.”
“Stop it.”
“Naw, you had your fun with me, so it’s my turn.”
“The agent’s there to spy on me.”
“If he really wanted dirt on Byron, he’s barkin’ up the wrong tree. And I don’t think he’s a fool, so he must have another reason for spendin’ so much time at your club.”
“Yeah, boobs.” Bonnie held out her hands like she juggled two melons, in front of her chest. “Thorne’s just a man, like all the rest. Believe me, none of them are special. He’s there investigatin’ on the government’s dime.” She used air quotes on the investigating part. “He’s usin’ the case as an excuse to gawk at some tits.”
“Hmm, and yet I seem to recall, the lawman was only interested in yours.”
“Shut your mouth. You’re imaginin’ things.”
“Am I?” Etta didn’t think so. The agent might be here for business, but some of this duty was a pleasure.
“Yes, you are.” Bonnie lifted her chin.
Somebody’s protesting too much.
Bonnie was way too worked up about the agent to be believable, although she might not be fully aware of the attraction.
“I’m tellin’ you, this Thorne guy’s sweet on you.”
“No, he wants to use me to trap Byron.”
“And you’re not interested in a handsome, unattached—from what I can see, employed man…?”
“One who wants to put my family in jail? Nope.”
Well, she had a point on that score. “Every relationship has problems.”
“As I said earlier, I don’t do relationships.” Bonnie shrugged.
“We’ll see how you feel in a couple weeks.”
“Even if I liked him, he’d try to turn me against the Beauregards. If you go up against the family, there ain’t nowhere you can hide. Eventually, they’ll catch up to you. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.” She trembled, as though cold.
Etta couldn’t imagine being related to a family full of bloodthirsty killers. Justice might be a member of a biker club, but at least the Four Horsemen helped people.
“Still, maybe you should take your own advice. Why don’t you have some fun with him?”
“And then send him packin’?” She licked her lips, as though relishing the thought. “Ain’t the worst idea I ever heard.”
“Just be careful.”
“I always use a condom.” She winked.
“That ain’t what I meant.” Etta stood. “I gotta go, or I’ll be late for work.
“Okay. Tell Justice I said hello.”
“Tell the agent, I did.” Etta sauntered away.
***
They're gonna find my bleached bones here.
Justice was about ready to gouge one of his own eyeballs out if it meant he could leave this godforsaken place. When he’d arrived at Mary’s place, she’d announced she had a hair appointment, and he’d been forced to escort her to the beauty parlor. They’d been here for two hours while she’d had a pedicure, a manicure, and now Mary was getting a haircut.
How-De-Do was the only beauty shop in town. It had a bohemian look. One wall was decorated with a collection of kitschy, sixties hand mirrors. Near the door, a chalkboard sign read: What Happens at the Salon Stays at the Salon.
Justice chuckled. The beauty parlor was filled with a gaggle of old blue-haired, biddies. He bet they passed around gossip as fast as their walkers could roll down the street.
Out front in the waiting area, a selection of magazines had been inserted into a repurposed black shutter, the spines dangled over each rung.
None of them had even remotely male topics. It was all how to have better sex with your boyfriend and easy ways to lose ten pounds. Regardless, he snuck a peek or two at the sex article and made some mental notes.
At the moment, Mary was in a chair while the proprietor, Delilah Holloway, snipped a couple inches off her brown locks. Personally, Justice liked long hair on women. Etta’s came down to her shoulders, and he really liked the length of it.
Every now and then, Miss Delilah caught his eye and winked.
Justice wondered if she was trying to flirt with him because that wasn’t going to happen. Ever. He didn’t mind the cougar thing once in a while, but this was ridiculous.
Miss Delilah had to be at least sixty, so she was old enough to be his mother. Her white hair was coiled atop her head and set off by the purple highlights on the tips, which matched her full-length dress. She had spiked heels, and Justice worried she’d totter over and break a hip.
Mary kept biting her lower lip, and he suspected she was stifling a giggle. He glowered, trying to back her down, but it only made the girl grin. Between her and Etta, he was a mess.
Lord, what am I gonna do with these women?
Justice got up to stretch his legs and grab a drink at a nearby water fountain. When he returned to his seat, he noticed a black van parked across the street. The driver wore a hoodie and a pair of shades. He had the hoodie tied tight around his face, concealing his features.
Hadn’t Mary mentioned a van earlier?
Justice took a seat on the opposite side of the room, so he had an uninterrupted view of the vehicle. The man inside didn’t appear to be waiting for someone. He didn’t check his cell phone, or fiddle with the radio, or waste time in another way. No, his gaze was laser-focused on Miss Delilah’s door.
This time, his intuition told him Mary’s kidnappers were back.
When Mary was done with her haircut, she paid the bill, and then glanced his way. He searched for the right words. Justice didn’t want to spook her, but she had to cooperate, or they’d try to snatch her again.
“What’s up? You look all serious.”
“The van you saw. It was black, right?”
“Yes.” Her face paled even further, all of the color leaching from it.
“But you didn’t see the man’s face?”
She shook her head.
“Damn, then you can’t identify him.” He sighed. “But you can tell me if the van looks familiar. Take a gander out the window.” He pointed toward the vehicle, and she studied it. “Is it the same?”
“I don’t know, it was dark, so the van could’ve been blue. And I’m not really a car girl, so I don’t notice these things.”
“Is everythin’ okay?” Miss Delilah teetered over to them, heels clicking.
“Yeah, but can you keep an eye on Mary, while I, uh, run an errand?”
“She’s awful big for a babysitter.” Miss Delilah batted her fake lashes, which looked like hairy spider legs.
“Yeah, but she needs one anyway.”
“I know you care about Mary, but why don’t you try someone closer to your own age?” She winked. “Besides, she’s headed off to Boston in a few weeks.”
Oh, fuck it all. I ain’t got time for this shit.
He wanted to let the old lady down easy, but he was at a loss for words.
Mary came to his rescue. “Sorry, Miss Delilah, he’s spoken for. Justice has a thing for Etta May Jameson.” She patted his back. “In fact, he’s taking her to Poison Fruit for a romantic dinner tonight, on my recommendation.”
“I’ve heard of her. The social worker, right? Don’t she live in the next town over?”
“The very same.” Mary’s tone was light, but her gaze kept straying to the windows.
“Oh, yes, I know her. Gorgeous red hair, great highlights, and such a nice figure.” Miss Delilah flashed a warm smile. “Well, aren’t you a lucky man? Congrats.”
Poof. Just like that, her sexual interest evaporated, and it made Justice feel cheap.
“Can we talk about you keepin’ an eye on Mary now?”
“Sure, once you answer a question for me. How long have you two been seein’ each other?”
Ah hell. And now every old biddy in town would be squawking about this.
“We’ll talk about it later.” Much later. “Back to the original subject. Can you watch Mary for a second?”
“Fine, keep your secrets.” Miss Delilah held up a hand, admiring her fingernails.
“So….Mary?”
“I won’t let her out of my sight. Whatcha gonna do?”
“Take out the trash.” He turned to Mary. “I know you ain’t too fond of Braxton, but I want you to give him a call, and tell him to get his ass over here. He’ll escort you home, while I get this sorted out. I’ll be back at your place as soon as I can.”
She started dialing immediately.
Justice stalked out the side entrance of the building, and around the rear of the shop next door, so he approached the van from behind. He stayed off to the side so he wouldn’t spook the driver.
He took a picture of the license plate and then texted it to Vick. The MC had their own tech analyst, Coyote, but since Justice was working on the mob’s dime, he might as well use their resources.
Besides, Coyote might tell Justice to go fuck himself. He didn’t take too kindly to the mafia boys these days. Come to think of it, he had a bone to pick with just about everyone. Coyote had been kidnapped and maimed by the cartel that had been working with the outfit. They’d cut off one of his fingers to send a message to the Four Horsemen.
Justice, what’s up? He received a text from Vick.
Trouble. Do me a favor and run the plate. It might be from the van following Mary.
On it.
A second later, his phone buzzed. It’s another fake. No records found. Counterfeit license plates are a big business. I’m sending Ten and Will over to help.
Justice groaned. I got this. I don’t need any help. Especially not from mobster fucktards.
Yes, you do. They’ll be there in five minutes, tops.
Justice texted Vick again, trying to cancel this meeting, but she ignored him.
Well shit. Company’s on the way.