Respectable Riot (Riot MC, #6) Page 8

  I didn’t know, but what I did know was that I wasn’t going to know.

  CHAPTER 8

  I ARRIVED AT THE HOUSE around nine-thirty. The dim light over the kitchen sink was on, and I noticed a Burger King bag in the garbage can. The anger I had earlier in the day from having my car impounded reared its ugly head, and I decided to make my way to Trent’s study. I slowed my roll when I realized he was on a phone call, which was on speaker.

  My instincts told me I needed to hear this, but I didn’t know why until I caught the speaker’s gravelly voice saying, “You’re gonna cause problems for Hock Pawn shop.”

  Liar worked there. Heck, I’d worn one of his t-shirts for the place when I slept at the compound.

  “Why would I do that?” Trent asked.

  “Because, I know you’re takin’ bribes from two cannabis companies. Playin’ them both against the other.”

  “I’m doing no such–”

  “Agnes just sent me your memo to your fellow commissioners with your recommendations. Or maybe you only know her as Ms. Gibbon.”

  I heard Trent splutter at the mention of his long-time secretary. “I, uh, what does my–”

  “Agnes is my kinda girl. That demure exterior hides a devious ruthless bitch who knows how to suck a man’s cock.”

  Another pause.

  “But you know about Nessie’s oral capabilities, now don’t you, Commissioner Palmer?”

  I heard movement that sounded like Trent moving things over his desktop and I leaned back enough to see through the crack in the door. Trent’s hand was resting over a button on the phone, muting it. His growl was loud and vicious.

  As usual, the anger vented, Trent’s quick mind went to work. I saw him lift his hand to unmute the phone. Shifting my weight back to the wall, I hid before I heard him say, “What do you get out of me making problems for a mom-and-pop pawn shop?”

  A sinister chuckle filled the air. “That ain’t your problem, Palmer.”

  Trent hated being backed into a corner. “And if I don’t?”

  The gravelly voice went lethal. “I will rain down hell on you. Maybe start by tellin’ your wife about Agnes, Janet, Terri, and maybe even Elna, though it’s hard to believe you’re a granny-banger type.”

  My stomach lurched. Hearing about Agnes was bad enough. I had suspected something untoward with Terri, a woman who lived two doors down; but who the hell was Janet and a granny named Elna? God help me. How stupid could I have been? That’s what I got for burying my head in the sand.

  The snide sound in Trent’s voice pulled me from those sickening thoughts. “We’re already in divorce proceedings. Not many judges in our county I don’t rub elbows with, so–”

  “You’re a moron to let a sweet piece like Jane get away. Wouldn’t mind tappin’ that tight ass, which would be the second move. But, really, media eats up stories like this. Shady politician coverage ain’t good for your campaign to a higher office.”

  A sound I knew was Trent’s angry sigh blew through the room. “You made your point. Let me make mine. Tell me your interest in bringing this business low and I can help you more. Do you compete with them? Do you–”

  “It’s no mom-and-pop shop, Palmer. The Riot MC makes their money through it, plus two or three other businesses–”

  “So you’re really after another gang,” Trent interrupted. He was always bad like that. A little patience and this person would have finished their train of thought, but my bet was Trent pissed this guy off.

  “They’re a club. And I’m not ‘after them.’ I got plans against them and you’re just one piece of the puzzle.”

  “Well–” Trent started.

  “No more chit-chat. Beach Bowl bowling alley. Friday night. Alone. You’ll get more details.”

  The line went dead and my eyes shot down to the carpet runner. I had to be silent. Trent could not know I had heard even a word of that conversation. A hollow thump against the wall immediately followed by shattering glass rent the air. I barely gulped back a yelp, but I successfully scampered to the great room.

  He was cheating with three other women, and I inferred he was making sure our divorce was heard by a judge he was buddies with? No, no. Oh hell, no. I had read about things like this happening to other politician’s wives, and it was why I had to change legal teams back in December. The last firm was shying away from digging in and taking the necessary steps to make sure I wasn’t completely hosed, even if I was more than willing to essentially walk away from this penniless. I didn’t want the house. I wanted the few items I loved inside the house.

  Not knowing when Trent might come out of his study, I quietly made my way to the master bedroom. It was on the other side of the house from the study, and normally I could hear the creaking of our wood floors when Trent walked down the hall. Whipping out my cell phone from my pocket, I called Andrea.

  “Hey, Janie.”

  I tried to steel my voice, but even I could hear the tremor when I spoke. “Honey, I hate to do this, but I need to talk to Liar.”

  “Well, he’s right here. I can just put you on speaker.”

  “Okay,” I breathed.

  “You’re scaring me, but hang on.”

  I heard her murmuring and the sounds of the phone moving.

  “Okay. We’re both here. What’s wrong?”

  “I just overheard someone order Trent to cause problems for Hock Pawn Shop.”

  Liar made a disbelieving sound. “Your husband is not going to cause us problems.”

  “Well, that isn’t the only thing this guy has planned. Trent tried to get more info but this guy said Trent was just one piece of what he has planned against the Riot MC.”

  “All right. You don’t sweat it, Janie. It’s gettin’ late. Volt or Blood, our VP, will call you tomorrow. Did you catch a name for who called?”

  “No,” I nearly groaned.

  “All right. That’s not a big deal.”

  Andrea piped up. “Try to get some rest, honey. You looked wiped earlier.”

  “All right. Have a good night.”

  My cell chirped at me, indicating a low battery. Unfortunately, my charger was in the kitchen. I needed to remember to pack it in my purse tomorrow. As I moved toward the kitchen, one of the floorboards creaked. I heard rustling from the study, but kept focused on getting my phone on the charger. When I left the kitchen, I found Trent waiting for me on the couch wearing his suit pants, his tie nowhere to be found, and the top three buttons of his shirt undone. A snifter of cognac was resting in his hands.

  “Where the hell were you?” he asked in a whisper.

  I thought about being cagey, but I was too tired to pull it off. “Out,” I said flatly.

  “We’re still married.”

  “Not for long,” I said with a fake smile.

  “Where were you?”

  “What difference does it make, Trent?”

  He put the snifter down gently. His eyes came to me full of fire. “The difference it makes is that I had a campaign fundraiser earlier this evening, and I waited here for you, to the point I was nearly late.”

  I shrugged and fought smiling outright. “Had car problems. What can I say? Hard to get anywhere when a corruptible officer of the law is impounding the only wheels I have.”

  He ignored my barbs. “We’re still married and you will attend my social functions.”

  “Or what?” I demanded.

  His eyes narrowed, anger intensifying in his glare. “Did you just ‘Or what?’ me?”

  “Yep,” I said, not the least bit daunted.

  He stood up. “Don’t miss another function. I’ll be in Orlando at the end of the week, and Tallahassee on Friday of the following week. Early morning, but fear not, wife. I’ll be back Friday night.”

  As he brushed by me, I realized his trip to Tallahassee was a boon from heaven. When I finally made it to the guest room, I texted Andrea about whether or not Liar would help me with moving a few choice pieces out of the house a week from Frida
y. I’d have opted for the day Trent would be in Orlando, but it was too easy to attend a morning function in Orlando and be back at our house before dinner. I needed all the time I could get with him out of the house.

  While I waited for Andrea to text back, I heard Trent go back to his study, which was adjacent to the guest room. I hot-footed it to the master bath so I could grab some nail polish remover and a few other toiletries.

  One damn thing was certain. I was not going to adhere to the good-wife routine he’d been accustomed to. First and foremost on my list of things to right was getting rid of the gel-polish manicure that seemed to be permanently adhered to my fingernails. I actually loved the whole gel-polish thing because I was prone to chipping a normal manicure in a matter of minutes after my nails dried, but in Trent’s constant endeavor to ‘keep up appearances’ I had to keep up my manicure. Except, not any more, I didn’t!

  THE NEXT MORNING, TRENT’S grouch factor was higher than normal, but I couldn’t make out whatever it was he mumbled under his breath. Around ten, Andrea called me.

  “Hey, Andi,” I answered.

  “Hey, honey. I guess the Riot men want to talk to you in person rather than over the phone. Can you meet us at Abby’s place? I’ll text you the address.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  Half an hour later Abby had showed me inside her home and out to a large deck where Trixie, Blood, Razor and Tennille were all hanging out. Thank God Trixie was there. The others were all couples, which would have made me feel like quite the fifth wheel.

  After pouring a soda at a table set up with soft drinks and other beverages, I was feeling awkward while chatting with Trixie.

  Tennille suddenly stood up from Razor’s lap, and right behind her he unfolded from the chair with masculine grace. Over her shoulder, she said, “Augustus, do not–”

  She couldn’t finish because Razor grabbed her hand, using it to whirl her to him. His other steadied her head, and he planted a deep searing kiss on her.

  Anyone could see it was intense and I had to tear my eyes away.

  Jealousy was never pretty, but I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was jealous as hell because I would never have that.

  “Dammit, Razor!” Neil shouted when he was done.

  “Told you you’ll pay every time. Tonight, you’ll finish paying when I use something from your nightstand.”

  “Accessories. Sweet.” Blood muttered, like he was talking about belts or something.

  Roll ambled onto the deck from inside the house, and I officially did feel like a fifth wheel, or a seventh wheel...whatever. I was odd girl out. It was time to go. I was making an approach to Blood, when Andrea and Liar strode out with Beast trailing behind them.

  I was standing awkwardly in the middle of the deck, and Andrea moved right to me.

  “How you doin’, babe?” she asked.

  Fighting my urge to say, “Meh,” I hesitated, but answered, “Oh, it’s going all right.”

  “Really?” she asked, but her question was sarcastic.

  I grinned. “All good, hon.”

  Blood approached us and with just his body language he moved me away from Andrea and I found myself alone with him on the opposite side of the deck.

  He grinned, making his eyes twinkle. “Janie, I know Liar told you I’d be calling, but we decided against that. Sorry to seem paranoid, but tell me what went down last night.”

  “No problem,” I said, and shifted my cup of soda to my other hand. “Well, I heard my husband on the phone with a gruff-sounding man. He wanted Trent to make problems for the pawn shop, though I have a hard time understanding how he could expect Trent to do that.”

  He grunted. “Wish you knew who’s shakin’ down your husband. They say anything other than tryin’ to put a hurt on the pawn shop?”

  I started to shake my head, and then I remembered that there was something else. “Yes, actually. Trent pissed the guy off trying to get more info out of him, and interrupting him. The man told him to meet him at the bowling alley at the beach Friday night. I don’t know what time—”

  Blood smiled again, but a sinister gleam replaced the twinkle I saw earlier. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just knowing there’s a meet is good enough. We’ll be watching. Thanks for lettin’ us know, Janie.”

  “You’re welcome,” I replied.

  “Feel free to get some food, babe.” he said, and ambled off to where Abby was chatting with Roll and Trixie.

  I put down my cup on a table behind me, but before I could make a move to the door, I felt heat on my left. “Overdressed for this, don’tcha think?”

  Beast was right. Everyone else there was wearing jeans and t-shirts, including Andrea, who I expected would be wearing her scrubs. I was meeting with James, Justine’s boyfriend, and the other owners of I.T. Jax about taking a job with them. Beast noticing my apparel made me nervous for some stupid reason. When nervous, I struggled to keep myself together, and this was no different, so my response was not normal.

  “I don’t think I’m overdressed, I’m certain I’m overdressed, but thanks.”

  Beast noticed me looking at him from the corner of my eyes and he chuckled. I did not like that at all!

  I turned to him and struggled to ignore his rugged handsomeness. “I’m leaving, so it doesn’t matter. Sorry for sounding bitchy.”

  He chuckled again, but I forced myself to ignore it. There was no time for this nonsense if I planned to move on with my life.

  “Why?” he asked before I could make a clean get-away.

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you overdressed?” he asked in a silky tone of voice.

  I sighed and shook my head. “I have a job interview at one, and I had no idea how long this would take. Satisfied?” I asked him, and I wanted to kick myself for ending with a question.

  “Not really, but as the song says, ‘I can’t be satisfied,’ so that’ll have to do. For now.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Beast

  THE NEXT DAY, BEAST ambled into the bar area of the clubhouse. Cal and Roll were shooting a game of pool, but he noticed Trixie, Mallory, Frankie, and Andrea at the bar. He had no idea where Liar and Vamp were, so he was surprised to see their women there.

  Nearing the bar, he heard Andrea speaking to the other women.

  “She’s moving soon, and when she does, she’ll be in a condo at Club Continental.”

  Liar had told him Andrea kept her girl-posse small, so he had no doubt she was talking about Janie. Just thinking of her high-class act, he muttered the words before he could stop himself. “From one gilded cage to another.”

  Trixie narrowed her eyes at him. “Janie doesn’t live in a gilded cage.”

  “That’s what you think,” Beast said.

  She shook her head, but Andrea piped up. “Beast, that place is currently bare bones, and it’s gonna be bare bones until she starts getting a paycheck on the regular.”

  “You say so. Don’t make a difference to me,” he said and sauntered away.

  Mallory leaned sideways into the bar. “That was weird.”

  A large rectangular mirror hung on the wall, and Beast watched Frankie look from Mallory to where he was headed. He was grateful she wasn’t trying to catch his eyes in the mirror.

  “No, that was bullshit, not weird,” Frankie muttered.

  They probably didn’t think he heard them, but he did. Only reason he didn’t confront Frankie was because she was right, it was bullshit him buttin’ into their conversation. It was also bullshit for him to give a damn about a woman with more baggage and hassle than British royalty. He did not have time for someone like Janie. A woman like her would be fun, but the timing was bad for him and for her.

  In the past two weeks, all manner of shit had hit the proverbial fan. His MC brother, Rage, was in the hospital after having been stabbed repeatedly, but supposedly he was going to be discharged soon. The Biloxi chapter was in town to help them pay retribution to the Devil Lancers for stabbing Rage. As o
f Friday, his lawyer still hadn’t been able to make any headway with his petition to remove his name from Katherine’s birth certificate. Late last week, they held church and the brothers voted unanimously to move forward on the strip club investment. Rage had voted via proxy.

  Thinking on all of this, he was reminded that he had desperately wanted a beer because Volt had called to tell him to get to Platinum’s for a round of auditions being held in an hour. He was not in the right frame of mind to watch a bunch of women try to impress him with their stage moves. To say hearing about Janie’s living arrangements had not helped matters any was a vast understatement.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered to himself. Fishing his truck keys out of his pocket always rubbed him the wrong way, but he didn’t have a choice because there was weather moving in tonight and he wasn’t up for riding in cold and wet conditions. He drove to Platinum’s. He would be there early, but he was sure there would be beer on tap to help him settle his nerves.

  Twenty minutes later, it was only three thirty-eight in the afternoon, but he parked his truck near the back of the lot under a light post since he knew it would be dark when he left. Walking up the side of the building, he noticed a drop-dead gorgeous brunette slinking out from behind the opposite corner. Her legs were encased in tight jeans feeding into heavy-duty black boots.

  There were no other vehicles in the lot, besides a bitchin’ Harley-Davidson in silver with crimson and orange flames on the tank. He figured the bike-owner had too many the night before and Ubered it home. He also guessed the brunette must have been hiding to keep anyone driving by from seeing her waiting.

  This woman might have slunk from behind the corner, but now she approached him with her head held high and a confidence he wasn’t sure about. It could have been false bravado that would quickly fade, or it might have been her nature. Whichever, it made her even more attractive.