Reckless Road Page 5

“Holy shit, brother,” Maestro breathed. “I’d say that was the real deal.”

  Code glanced down at his watch. “Steele should be here any minute. You hadn’t moved all day, and we were getting worried. He was on his way over to check on you. We can ask him about the girl. He can ask Breezy.”

  For the first time since he’d woken up, Player found himself relaxing. “I knew you would come through for me, Code. She said her name was Zyah. I’m pretty certain that’s her dancing name. You know, when she dances for customers.”

  Preacher frowned. “You’re really convinced this girl is a dancer?”

  “You should have seen her. She’s definitely a professional belly dancer. No one is that good. She told me she was practicing, but she didn’t need to practice. She had to have been dancing since she was a little kid. She did say she was from the Middle East, at least I think she said it. At the time I thought it was part of the role-playing we were doing. The act. She had to have left early in the morning, Code. Can you pull up the video where she leaves? Maybe we can see what she’s driving, get the license on her car.”

  “Good idea, Player,” Maestro approved.

  Code swung around and immediately fast-forwarded to the early morning hours. He caught sight of Player’s private dancer coming out of the back room and into the front, where most of the partiers were sound asleep. She picked her way through the bodies sleeping on the floor and in chairs, making her way toward the exit.

  Zyah wore her blue jeans and top, and as she walked, Player could see the little golden bells around her ankle, but the coins were gone from her hips. The camera was directly on her face as she approached the exit, and she lifted a hand toward her eyes. Her fingers brushed first her left eye and then her right.

  A man wearing Torpedo Ink colors came up on her right, blocking her exit. Player immediately recognized Destroyer, one of his brothers. He was a big man with very muscular arms covered in prison tattoos. His hair was long, falling nearly to his waist, pulled back in a braid segmented by bands every few inches. He leaned down and spoke to her. She shook her head and dashed at her face again, right under her eyes, giving the man her smile, but Player could tell it wasn’t real. His heart had nearly stopped when he saw what were obvious tears on her face.

  Code, Maestro and Preacher fell silent. Player looked at them. “I really screwed up. She’s fuckin’ cryin’. I did that. Shit.” He pressed his fingers hard into the back of his neck, tension gathering there. For the first time in his life, he’d had real hope that he had a chance with a woman he could respond to. One he genuinely liked. She’d made him laugh. She’d made his body actually work when he’d thought himself long dead. “She didn’t do one damn thing wrong, and I made her cry.”

  “I see you’re already up,” Steele said from behind them. “Master texted yesterday and said you were coming in early in bad shape. Maestro confirmed your migraine was particularly bad. I didn’t expect to see you up at all, let alone walking around.” There was a question in his voice.

  Player spun around to face him. “That’s the thing, Doc, there was this woman last night, in my room. I don’t know what kind of ability she had, but when she spoke to me, the tone of her voice, the way she moved, she took away the migraine.” He shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy. You don’t have to look at me like that.”

  “There was a woman in his room,” Code said, taking the screen capture he’d printed out from Player and handing it to Steele. “And he doesn’t have any headache.”

  “Not only that, but he’s functioning,” Preacher added.

  “I was with him last night,” Maestro said. “He was worse than I’ve ever seen him.”

  Steele glanced down at the photograph and then at the frozen picture of the woman with Destroyer standing over her. “Tell me about her. And how did she get into your room?”

  Player tried not to look at the tears on Zyah’s face. That just plain undid him. “At first, I thought she was part of my crazy alternate reality, although it wasn’t my normal fucked-up version of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. There was Middle Eastern music playing in my room. I recognized the instruments. Candles were lit with very distinctive essential oils burning. She was in the middle of my floor, belly dancing. She wore a belt with layers of coins and tiny bells around her hips over her blue jeans, and an ankle bracelet with bells. God, she was gorgeous. Every movement was flowing and graceful.”

  Steele took another look at the picture in his hand. “I want you to go sit down, Player. You look good, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take it easy. When you use your psychic ability, you actually can injure your brain, which is why you get such horrendous headaches. I’m not saying this woman doesn’t have the capacity to heal you. Obviously, something happened, but I still want you to take it easy.” He gestured back toward the common room.

  Player and the others made their way from the control room to the comfortable chairs. Player found he was grateful to sit down. He wasn’t nearly as steady on his feet as he thought he was.

  “Tell me about her. What’s her name? Where is she from?” Steele demanded.

  Player sighed. “She said her name was Zyah, but I think that’s the name she uses when she’s dancing. I didn’t get her last name or a number. I was hoping Breezy did. Preacher remembered that Breezy talked to her last night. She let her into the room.”

  Steele nodded. “I remember. Breezy texted me and asked me if it would be okay if she used one of the empty rooms to study. She had two job interviews this morning and had promised her grandmother she would help out a friend’s granddaughter by being a designated driver. She was with another woman. Winters. Francine Winters. Heidi vouched for her. Your Zyah was Francine’s designated driver. Breezy told Zyah she could use the room.”

  “Did Breezy get a last name?”

  “No, it was Francine Winters that Heidi knew. But I can text Heidi.” Steele pulled out his cell phone immediately and texted the waitress from their bar. Heidi was completely loyal to their club.

  “While you’re waiting for Heidi to get back to you, I’ll just run the rest of the security tape and see if I can get the car she’s driving and maybe a license plate,” Code said.

  Player tapped out a beat on his thigh before realizing it was an Arabic rhythm from the night before. He dropped his palm on his leg and rubbed, missing her. Needing to feel her skin against his. He kept from rubbing his temple by sheer will. When he looked up, Steele was watching him closely. It was tap out beats on his thigh, count in his head or build bombs in his head to keep himself sane. He had bad habits. Anything he did in his head was better than these outward “tells” that his fellow Torpedo Ink brethren could see.

  “She got in your head.”

  There wasn’t much use in denying it. “Yeah. She did. I need to find out how real it all was.” He rubbed his thigh again to keep from pressing his fingers to his temples. The headache was coming back, just there, beyond his reach. He didn’t want to know it was close.

  “Czar drilled it into us never to sleep with one of our marks. Or someone we were just getting some relief from. I didn’t feel that way about her, but I’d gone so many hours without sleep and my mind couldn’t tell what was real anymore. I kicked her out, said some things maybe I can’t take back. I don’t know, Steele, but she was crying when she left. There was a thousand dollars on my nightstand, and she just left it there.”

  Steele sighed. “You tried to give that girl a thousand dollars?”

  “I’m afraid so. And I told her to leave. Thought the brothers paid her to be with me. Said that too. The look on her face, man, that wasn’t good. Didn’t remember it until I woke up this afternoon and realized it was the best dream I’d ever had in my life—except it wasn’t a dream.”

  “When you decide to fuck things up, you’re right up there with me, brother,” Steele said. He glanced down at his cell phone. “This isn’t good.
Heidi says Francine Winters is a bitch from hell and that unfortunately, Heidi owed her a favor. Francine insisted she wanted to come to a Torpedo Ink party, and Czar okayed it even after Heidi warned him Francine was out to hook up with a member any way she could. Heidi doesn’t know Zyah, but says she seemed way too nice to be friends with Francine. Heidi said she’ll ask Francine for Zyah’s last name, number and address.”

  Code returned shaking his head. “She must have parked off the lot and down the street somewhere out of sight. She walked outside the gates and disappeared.”

  “Great. It just can’t be simple,” Preacher said.

  Player couldn’t help himself. He texted Destroyer to ask him if he’d gotten Zyah’s last name and what they’d talked about. He added that he’d explain why he needed the information when he saw him in person.

  “Listen to this bullshit,” Steele said just as Destroyer shoved open the door from outside and strode in. “Heidi says Francine says Zyah is a first-class stuck-up bitch with some kind of hoity-toity job that pays really well. She turns her nose up to everyone just because she has her master’s in something. No one likes her, and don’t get involved with her. She’s very judgy. She wouldn’t have brought her, but she needed someone sober to drive her, although it turns out she didn’t after all. A Torpedo Ink member, Axle, from the Trinity chapter, apparently gave her his cell number, but she lost it. Heidi says Francine will trade Zyah’s information for Axle’s. Heidi doesn’t believe her. Says no way would Francine ever lose Axle’s number if he gave it to her.”

  “What’s going on?” Destroyer asked.

  Maestro filled him in while Steele texted Axle asking if he had given Francine his cell number and apprising him of the situation.

  “What did you say to her this morning?” Player asked, trying not to sound jealous. Or guilty.

  Destroyer had eyes that could look right through a man. He shrugged. “Didn’t like to see her cryin’. If someone hurt her, I wanted to know who. She said she was just tired and afraid she’d blow her interview and she couldn’t find her friend she was supposed to take home. I didn’t believe her, but I let her walk out.”

  “At least we know her real name is Zyah,” Code said. “It’s an unusual name. I can work with that. It’s a starting point.”

  That didn’t make Player feel much better. He thought of Zyah as his private dancer because he was certain she was an exotic dancer and Zyah was her stage name. That gave him a little bit of an excuse for his bad behavior—at least he told himself it did, even though he knew it was bullshit.

  “Axle says Francine is a fuckin’ nightmare and no one should go near her. Thinks she should be blacklisted from any club event, but that’s just his opinion. He didn’t give her his number and hopes he never has to see her again, but he’ll take the hit for his brother if Player needs him to. He can always change his number later,” Steele translated the text.

  Player shook his head. “Tell him thanks, but no. We’ll find her another way. There’s got to be another way.”

  Destroyer shrugged his massive shoulders. “I can have a word with this bitch Francine. She’ll talk.”

  Steele shook his head. “We’re nowhere near that solution yet.”

  “Damn, Destroyer, you’re a little bloodthirsty,” Preacher said with a smirk. “I think you’ve been hanging around Savage too long.”

  “I don’t hurt women,” he denied. “They’re afraid of me. She won’t be any different. I question her, she’ll answer. I should say, most women are afraid of me. Not the one last night. She wasn’t afraid at all. Looked me right in the eye. She had something about her.”

  Player’s head jerked up. “What do you mean by that?”

  The others all looked at Destroyer. He had a way of seeing into people immediately.

  Destroyer shrugged again. “She’s gentle inside, but steel at the same time. She’s someone who will stand when you need her to. She really feels things, unlike most people, deep down, and once you’re in, you’re there. I felt bad for her. Whatever hurt her, cut deep.”

  “Great. That was me,” Player admitted. “I was so gone last night I didn’t know what I was sayin’ or doin’ and I threw her out.”

  Destroyer raised his eyebrow. “You had that woman in your room and you told her to leave? You really were all kinds of fucked up.” As always, when he spoke, his voice was mild, a low tone, a bit menacing.

  “In his defense,” Maestro said, “Czar drilled it into us never to go to sleep with someone in the room with us. That was how you got killed.”

  Destroyer nodded. “Good advice most of the time. Not so much this time. Came in lookin’ for food. Alena didn’t cook this afternoon, did she?” he asked, a hopeful note in his usual expressionless voice.

  “She’s at her restaurant,” Maestro said. “She’ll feed you. Anything on the menu. She never charges. The money’s all the same.”

  Destroyer shook his head. “I make her uncomfortable. Don’t want to do that in her own place. She loves that restaurant. Sometimes she leaves food in the fridge here.”

  “Might be leftovers from last night,” Preacher pointed out.

  “Not anything Alena made, though,” Maestro said. “Everyone goes back for seconds.”

  “What else do you know about Zyah, Player?” Code asked.

  “She loves her grandmother. I got the feeling her grandmother raised her and that she lives close by. Maybe in Sea Haven. She’s definitely from the Middle East.”

  “Can you narrow it down a bit?” Code persisted. “Which country?”

  Player shook his head. “I’m sorry. She didn’t talk much about her family dynamic. I didn’t either, so I felt like I couldn’t pry. After a while we weren’t talking all that much.”

  “Master said he was coming in tonight and wanted me here,” Steele said, looking at his watch. “I don’t like being away from home all that long. Did something happen that I should know about? He didn’t want me to bring Breezy.”

  “Yeah, we ran into some trouble. We’ll fill in everyone at the meeting, but Master has a passenger with him; that’s why we were separated. We followed the Ghosts to New Mexico, straight to the diner where Breezy used to work.”

  Steele’s head jerked up. “Is she in some kind of trouble again? Are they coming for her? Czar called me, left me a message and said it was important and to call him back, but I wanted to check on you first. Is this about Breezy? Is she in trouble, Player?”

  “No. But the two we were following met up with four members of the Swords club in the diner. I had to work hard to build an illusion fast to keep them from recognizing us. They were very close to us. They were there to make a deal with the Ghosts. But more to the point, they found out Breezy worked there before she disappeared. They were trying to track her down. Delia Swanson, her former boss, told them she didn’t know anything more, but the apartment Breezy had stayed in was rented in Delia’s name. They didn’t believe her.”

  Steele stood up and paced across the floor. “Please tell me they didn’t kill her boss. She loves that woman. And I owe her everything for taking care of Breezy and my boy.”

  “She was selling the diner. Had a buyer. The fuckin’ Swords burned it down that night and made a try for her. We were waiting for them. Master and I took them out and had her throw a few things together. Master has her with him in her vehicle. We thought she could take the empty apartment over the bar next to Bannister’s apartment until she decides what she wants to do. She’ll be safe with us here. She has her retirement money, and Code and Absinthe can deal with the insurance company for her on the diner,” Player said. “At least that was what we thought. We couldn’t just leave her there. The Swords would have killed her.”

  “No, no, you did the right thing by bringing her. We’ll talk to Czar. The club can protect her. The Swords don’t have a clue you have her?” Steele asked.

 
; “No, they didn’t ever see us. Neither did the Ghosts. I held the illusion for over forty-eight hours. That’s the longest I’ve ever managed. I didn’t have a choice. We couldn’t afford anyone to identify us as being Torpedo Ink. We told her Breezy was with you and we would take her to you and Breezy. She wanted to come. She’s not without her own money, so she won’t be a burden.”

  “You’re absolutely certain this isn’t a setup?” Code asked the question that Czar had already asked when they called him to report everything and ask him what he wanted them to do. “You’re sure you weren’t made and this woman isn’t here to kill Breezy?”

  THREE

  “Men are assholes, Mama Anat,” Zyah said. “In case you aren’t aware.”

  “Zyah, language.” Anat had a small smile on her face when she looked up at her granddaughter. Although she was in her sixties, she didn’t look it. There were no wrinkles on her face, only a few crow’s-feet around her eyes and laugh lines around her mouth. “Although, I must say, there are times when I might agree with you.”

  Zyah couldn’t help laughing. There was no way to be in the same room with her grandmother and not laugh. It had always been that way throughout the years, when her grandmother had raised her. She felt love welling up the way it always did when she looked at Anat—or even just thought about her.

  “It is simply impossible not to love you. I can’t imagine a man being an ass . . . a jerk to you. Every man who has ever met you has fallen permanently in love with you. I know because I’ve seen them come around for years, courting you.” Zyah tucked a stray strand of her grandmother’s hair behind her ear. The hair, although streaked with gray, was still dark and thick, adding to her youthful appearance.

  Anat laughed again and made a trilling sound through her pursed lips. She could make that vibration so many different ways. Throughout her childhood, Anat comforted Zyah or chided her or assured her using several different melodic pitches. Her grandmother portrayed dozens of emotions by using different melodic tones when warbling at her. She still did it in everyday conversation, and each time the habit warmed Zyah as nothing else could.