Koen

 

That evening, Jace and I headed in through the backdoor of Club Hellfire. I feigned politeness, but it was really only so I could keep my eyes on her. Sure, she'd ridden on the back of my bike, but making a move on me in that situation would have been a losing proposition for her.

 

Nothing quite like killing the rider when you were stuck on the back.

 

The club was barely empty as we stepped into it, mostly just staff running around taking care of the incidentals, and we skirted the main area so I wouldn't get grabbed for any questions or “Hey boss!” interruptions. The place wouldn't really start bumping for more than another hour.

 

“Y'all get busy in here, don't you?” Jace asked from beside me as I led her up the stairs to the clubhouse.

 

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We move 'em through, alright. Lots of tourists coming through, wanna see a real biker bar. This place during Mardi Gras is something else. They even get me slinging drinks behind the bar.”

 

We made our way through the club’s halls, to the real seat of power for the F&B MC, and found Fed upstairs in one of the rec rooms, watching TV.

 

“Yo, Fed,” I called from the door to where my second-in-command was playing pool with a couple of the guys. “You got a sec, bro?”

 

“Sure thing, brother.” Fed passed his cue off to Happy and made his way over to join us. “What's up, man?”

 

I glanced from Fed to Jace, and back again. “Why don't you grab our girl Benji and join us in the meeting room? Four of us got some things to discuss.”

 

Fed frowned and nodded. I don't think he exactly liked bringing Benji into a meeting like this, but I knew he wouldn't say no. “Yeah,” he said, “coming right up.”

 

He turned and headed back down to the club, while I brushed past Jace and went to the meeting room.

 

“What're we gonna discuss?” Jace asked as I guided her into the meeting room and gestured to a seat at the table.

 

“Just how things are going,” I said, reassuring her as she took a seat. “Figured you ain't seen your friend since last night, and we still got questions about last night in the hotel.”

 

She made a face at my words as I took a seat next to her, and even that face was pretty as a picture. Something about her, even with all her makeup scrubbed off. And, Hell, the way she'd twisted Xavier around her finger so easily did make me wonder if she was pulling the same kinda shit on me. I mean, if the old FBI agent was that susceptible, what chances did I have?

 

But, one thing was sure. I knew she was dangerous, and still I kept her close. Sure, I kept my eyes on her, but there wasn't much to that. With a woman like Jace, keeping an eye on her was the easy part of the job.

 

“I already told you all I know,” Jace said as I settled in, her face annoyed at the prospect of more questions.

 

We both knew her words were lies, but she just didn't know I knew. I was kinda interested to see how far she'd push this whole thing, her hiding the death of her relative. Which was actually kinda funny because, for all the reasons I could think of killing a man, the death of a family member was top of the list. Easy.

 

Benji and Fed came in a few moments later, with Benji running around the table to hug Jace. The two women embraced warmly, clutching to each other like it'd been weeks, and not hours, since the last time they'd seen one another.

 

“You getting settled in, girl?” Jace asked her friend.

 

Benji nodded, grinning. “Yeah, hon. Been a while since I had to do any kind of real work like this, but it's been kind of nice not having to suck a dick all afternoon.”

 

Jace laughed, and they both took a seat.

 

“Men are treating you alright, then?” I asked Benji.

 

“Oh yeah,” she said, smiling.

 

“She's kind of a mascot already,” Fed said from across the table. “Happy threatened to start chopping fingers with the cleaver if anyone gets too pushy with her.”

 

Happy certainly had a way with words, and could feel downright fatherly when he wanted to. I kept my face neutral and nodded, even if I was laughing on the inside. “Good,” I said. “Alright, ladies, I gotta few questions about last night.”

 

“Can't say how much help I'll be,” Benji said, looking around the table. “I wasn't there and all, to see what happened. But I'll help y'all anyway I can. You guys have certainly helped me out.”

 

I listened to Benji's words, but my focus was on Jace's face as her friend spoke. It went through a range of emotions, all subtle. A tug at her lips here, a lifting of an eyebrow there. She didn't know what to think about us, I could tell. Whatever she'd thought originally that had caused her to try and poison my morning juice, I think she was starting to change that opinion. I'd begun to see it taking root like a stretch of kudzu at my Grandpa's house, digging in and tearing out whatever preconceived notions she had.

 

And, for whatever reason, I needed her to change that view. Not just for the information locked up in her head about what happened in that hotel room, but for something else. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I needed her to trust me, no matter how much I currently distrusted her.

 

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my voice reasonable as I glanced to Fed, “all we ask is you return us the favor. We need to know, from both you ladies, what the hell happened. We know Sven ran you girls, you told us yourself. But now, come to find out he was working for Volkov Arms, and a member of the Russian mafia.”

 

I folded my hands in my lap and leaned in close to Jace, my face close enough to where I could almost smell her, my face inches from hers. “Now, what do you know about this Sven guy? Was he trying to make contact with us on behalf of The Wolf? Or was there something else going on? And who is Tomlin Spears?”

 

# # #

Jace

 

Benji and I looked at each other in pure, honest shock. She was surprised because she knew I had a younger brother I'd left behind named Tomlin. I was surprised because Koen knew who the hell he was.

 

I didn't know how he knew who my brother was, or that he'd been in that room. Maybe the cops had identified him when they did Sven. I wasn't sure, hadn't really thought about it, even when Koen had mentioned it back at Xavier's. I was more interested in the old man's description of Volkov Arms, and this Aleksey Volkov's ties to the international underworld.

 

A man like that, with that much power where entire government agencies bent over backwards to help him out, didn't seem like he'd be answering to a bunch of bikers who'd set up shop on Bourbon Street. But, maybe Sven had changed allegiances? Maybe he'd started working for Koen on the side, in exchange for a bigger piece of the pie?

 

“Who was he?” The Boss asked again, coming an inch or two closer to my face.

 

My eyes trailed down from his, flickered over that strong jaw, over the slight stubble, and down to a vein in his neck that seemed to throb bigger the more I looked at it.

 

Benji nudged me in the shoulder with her elbow, digging it in deep enough that I couldn't ignore her. “Tell him, Jace,” she said, her voice insistent.

 

I rolled my eyes and slunk down in my chair, like I was trying to hide from the world. Really, though, I slipped my hand, which was already beneath the table, into the slim pocket of my jeans and found the knife that had been poking me in the thigh since we'd left Xavier Baldwin's house. It was a short little paring knife, kinda cute in its own way, but sharp as all get out. Plenty sharp for what I needed, which was to only nick that big, pulsing vein in The Boss's neck.

 

I'd seen two guys get into a knife fight a couple years back. Blades flashing, cutting in the streetlights. One guy had gotten caught right in the jugular. He tried to apply pressure, and the crimson blood had just poured out around his fingers. They called 911 and all, but even in the best of cities an ambulance couldn't have gotten there fast enough to keep him from pumping his life out all over the sidewalk.

 

And New Orleans wasn't exactly the best of cities.

 

The look on that poor son-of-a-bitch's face, like he knew death was coming for him, was one of purest horror. And I couldn't think of a worse fate for the man responsible for my brother's death.

 

Yeah, all it would take would be a little nick of the skin, just deep enough to poke a hole in his neck. Fed would probably kill me, or, even worse, throw me to the gang to be a fucktoy for the rest of my short life, and Benji would be scarred for whatever time she had left.

 

But, if Sven Morokov was really working for Koen Baldwin, justice would be done for my poor dead Tommy. And that'd be worth it, I figured.

 

His eyes were boring into mine, those crazy blues of his even more intense when they were just inches from my face. I could feel them rummaging around in my head, trying to see what I was going to do next, see whether or not I was going to keep lying to him.

 

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and tried to judge how fast Koen would be. From the way he moved, I'd say pretty damned fast. But, the question was, would he be fast enough?

 

“Come on, Jace,” Benji urged. “Just tell him already.”

 

What would it matter, now, if they knew the truth? “Fine,” I said, exasperated. “Tomlin Spears is . . . was my brother. He showed up at the hotel last night, and Sven shot him in the bathroom because he heard a noise in there. Dunno how Tommy found me, but he did. I knocked the gun out of his hand, I guess, and then I picked it up and shot the Russian motherfucker.” I turned to Benji. “There. Happy?”

 

The look on Benji's face was like I'd just drop-kicked a bunny rabbit into a wood-chipper. “Tomlin . . . he was the other guy? Oh, hon, I'm so sorry.”

 

I sniffed a little as my eyes tracked back to Koen's face, who was still leaning in to me. I gripped the paring knife in my pocket tighter, steeled my nerves, and got ready.

 

“Alright,” he said, nodding.

 

This was it. This was my chance.

 

“I believe you,” Koen said. “Now, one more question.”

 

I shook my head and grimaced as I subtly slid the knife out of my pocket and into my lap. “No,” I said. “I'm the one asking now.”

 

Koen wasn't as fast as I gave him credit for. He barely flinched, barely jerked his head back, as my hand shot up and wrapped around his neck and pulled him in like we were long-lost lovers. But, instead of my lips caressing his, the razor-sharp edge of my knife grazed over the skin of his neck.

 

“Now,” I said, “was Sven Morokov working for you as an inside man?”