“So according to you, he only had a few beers. Yet he almost pulled a face plant and needed assistance to walk? That doesn’t make sense. Which is it? Was he drunk or not?”
“Lady, I have no idea. I know what I served him. Maybe the kid had the flu.”
The bartender stepped aside to serve a drink, but he soon came back with more.
“I only remember one thing about the guy who hauled him out last night.” He raised his beefy arm, giving her a visual aid by pointing to his biceps. “He had a tattoo on his arm, right here. I never got a good look, but from a distance, it looked like something with a black curve to it. Maybe a letter or a snake.”
She pressed him for more, but the guy came up dry. A tattoo of a black curve—a letter or snake—was the best he could do. It wasn’t much, but more than she’d had.
“Do you know a woman named Desiree? Was she in last night when the kid was?”
Nose Ring Boy gave her the stink eye. Clearly she’d hit a nerve. At first, she wasn’t sure he’d answer. Eventually, he did.
“Yeah I know who she is, but that girl is seriously messed up. She sells it for crank. If she was here last night, I didn’t see her. Last time I saw her, I told her to beat it.”
“When was that?”
“Maybe a month ago. I caught her working outside, in front of the bar. She’d hit up guys as they left. And she’d settle business in an alley down the block. Blow and go.”
If what he’d told her was true, that meant Desiree might be freelancing, working without a pimp. No pimp would allow her to skim off enough to feed a habit. That would take low dollar and high volume, not a pretty picture and a real dangerous lifestyle. But the bartender avoided her eyes as he wiped down the bar. He was hiding something.
“Yeah, I can see how you’d be upset. Dirty Monty’s has such an upstanding reputation. A hooker would only spoil the ambience.” She cocked her head, letting him know she wasn’t buying any of it. “You mean she never gave you a piece of the action for letting her conduct business out front?”
The guy took in a heavy breath, still having trouble looking her in the eye.
“Look, I don’t begrudge anyone a livin’.” He lowered his voice even though the place was loud enough, staying out of earshot of those at the bar. “And I’m all for free enterprise. She came to me first. All she asked me to do was keep my mouth shut about what she was doin’.”
“For a piece of the action.” Jess pushed him to admit it.
“I never saw it that way. For me, she was only feedin’ the tip jar.” He rattled the nearby glass decanter, filled with dollar bills and coins.
Jess had enough of his smug attitude. She leaned closer, putting her elbows on the bar. “You ever take it out in trade?”
She’d hit another soft spot. Score one for the home team. He shut his eyes tight and shook his head, no doubt regretting having started the conversation.
“Yeah, from time to time, she’d do me for free. What about it? It was consensual. She said she couldn’t get enough of the old kielbasa.” He shrugged with a smirk. “Me? I chalked it up to quality control. The girl doesn’t look like much, but she has a lip-lock that makes your eyes water.”
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.”
Good move. Jess had heard all she could stand from the arrogant ass. She questioned a couple more waitresses but came up empty. Time to call it a night.
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.