Vice (Tortured Heroes Book 1) (7 page)

D
evin

Despite Jase’s bad review from my Bluetooth speakers, the new band didn’t suck. At all. In fact, they were brilliant. The platinum lead singer had a Kurt Cobain vibe about him except he was taller and buff. That little detail wasn’t lost on every girl in the place. They crowded the stage to get a better look and I pulled up their YouTube channel on my phone again. They called themselves
The Malcontents
and the name fit. All five guys were drop-dead sexy bad-boy types and it didn’t take me long to realize I had a potential fucking gold mine if I booked them again next week. This might just make up for everything that happened with Jase.

I walked back into the main bar to make sure everything hummed out there as well. I stepped behind the bar and shot Kinney a thumbs-up. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. He poured two margaritas at once and garnished them with a flourish. He was on top of his game tonight too.

“Holy shit, Dev.” Georgia leaned over the bar, breathless. “We’re going to break a record tonight, I bet. Drinks are flowing and everyone’s in a good mood. I bet I clear two hundred!”

I shot her a thumbs-up. I danced on the balls of my feet, not so much to the rhythm, but from the buzz of delight from everyone around me. This might just be lightning in a bottle. A thought flashed through me that made me go still. I wanted to go get Jase. He was stuck in the back of the kitchen, away from the excitement. Part of me wanted to gloat and say I told you so. The band was terrific. His taste in music sucked. But I also found myself wanting to share the triumph with him. I wasn’t used to that at all. Instead, I just stabbed a metal ice scoop into the bin and refilled the well at Kinney’s station.

The Malcontents
started in on their next song and I heard a swell of hoots and hollers, mostly female voices. God. This was just what I’d envisioned for the bar all along. Local bands playing original music. Not that cover crap
The HolyRocks
played.

“Damn,” Kinney said. “Chicks are into those guys.”

I made a gun with my hand and shot him. “I think we’re on to something. I think maybe
The HolyRocks
are going to have to start looking for another gig.”

“Sheeit,” Kinney said. “Maybe you wanna wait to tell them that. Fucking drama those guys. Straight up.”

“Right. Exactly what I don’t need right now. I’m gonna sit down with their lead singer back there. Word is he manages the band too. What’s his name again?”

Kinney leaned over to shout in my ear. “Krist, I think. Justin Krist?”

I nodded. “Thanks. Well, if you get to him before I do, make sure you tell him to come see me tonight before they pack up. But don’t tell him why. I’d like the advantage of surprise before he starts thinking of ways to screw me about money.”

Kinney laughed and nodded. Again, I had the urge to head back into the kitchen to share the good news with Floyd and Jase. But they were getting the trickle down. Food orders flew out of the kitchen and I knew they were keeping up just fine. Better to stay out here where I was needed the most.

The Malcontents
played three encores and the drinks kept flowing. Kinney worked the bar staff hard but everyone was on fire tonight. So much so that for just a few minutes, I was able to take a step back and make myself a fly on the wall.

It was happening. Tonight could be a turning point. I felt that in my bones. I had the right staff. The right mix of patrons: newcomers and regulars. And now, I had the right draw with the band. I squeezed my fists and pressed them against my thighs, otherwise I felt like I might just lift into the air with the excitement of it all. Taking a step back also gave me a chance to look for weak links.

Georgia was on her game, but Leslie and Marie were just a tad slow with the drink orders. In Leslie’s case, I could see why. She spent a good amount of time flirting with some of the customers. Marie seemed star-struck by the band. These were fixable problems. I nodded and made a mental note to deal with it in the morning. Georgia could take point with that. Leslie was sensitive and if I came at her, she might shut down no matter how soft an approach I took. Again, fixable problems.

I got caught up in it, I’ll admit that. I saw stars and dollar signs that night and maybe I should have been looking even closer at the patrons instead of my staff. Maybe I would have seen the potential disaster before it became one. It was nice to think that, anyway. That I could have controlled it.

It came in a rush. Screams and a rush of people pouring from the back room where the band just finished up. A guy. Not one of the regulars. Young. Early twenties. Kinky black curls drooping over his eyes and three-day-old dark stubble, like a short version of Russell Brand. Two of his friends carried him across the floor. He stayed on his feet for two or three steps, then his legs turned to rubber and he crashed to the floor in a heap and went rigid.

And just like that, my best night ever started to slip through my fingers.

J
ase

The night was fucked the minute I caught a glimpse of the lead singer of Devin’s new band. Thank God he wasn’t looking my way when we passed each other in the darkened hallway, me heading for the kitchen. Him, carrying his guitar, head down, headed for the stage.

Justin something. He was from fucking Lincolnshire. He’d headlined at my brother’s club a few months back. Colt and the Great Wolves MC had signed his fucking paychecks. He’d seen me maybe once or twice but only in uniform. Tonight, the misplaced context and his singular focus on where he was headed probably saved me from getting made that night. Still, it was too close a call. I decided to keep my head down and my ass firmly planted in front of the dishwasher until their set was over and Justin Whatever-his-name-was got the hell out of
The Dive Bar
. It was disloyal of me to Devin, I suppose, but I silently prayed the band sucked and she’d never ask them back.

That was almost fuck-tastrophe number one. Number two came a little later when I heard screaming coming from the bar. I couldn’t help it. Running toward danger is ingrained in me.

I got to the main floor and saw Kinney jump the bar and head toward a huddle of people. Maybe a dozen gawkers that surrounded the core of the commotion. The band was still playing so most of the patrons didn’t witness what I saw. Devin did though. She stood slack-jawed against the wall as one of her customers slumped between two others, his face purple, pupils big as dinner plates.

“Shit.” Kinney and I said it together and we got to the guy at the same time.

“Don’t make a scene, man,” Kinney said, both to the purple guy's two friends and me.

“Kinney!” one of them said. I’ll call him Shaggy. He had shaggy brown hair that hung past his shoulders. The other one, well, I can’t even think of a name for him. He wore a blond man bun, had wide pale blue eyes, and wore steel-tipped alligator-skinned boots. He was scared shitless. “What the hell was that shit?”

Kinney pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. I knew that look. If Kinney had superpowers, he would have crushed Shaggy’s skull with just a stare. “Shut your fucking mouth,” Kinney said through his tight lips. He shot me a look and I gave him a quick nod to let him know we’re cool.

Devin came up. She knew what was happening, but I think a part of her still wanted to deny it. This was bad. On the busiest night of her career, she was about to witness a customer OD right in the middle of the floor.

“Can you cover the bar?” Kinney said giving her a level stare. “We’ve got this. Dale here; is that your friend’s name?” Shaggy nodded. “Dale got served one too many shots, I think. We’ll get him in a cab. No problem.” Devin wasn’t stupid. All the color drained from her face and she looked legitimately shocked by what was happening. She had a way of seeming both street smart and innocent all at the same time. Or maybe she was just a damn good actress, but at that moment I truly believed she wasn’t in on any of this. I could only hope that wasn’t just wishful thinking on my part.

“Kinney…” He gave her another withering stare and Devin swallowed hard. She looked at me and I made a sweeping gesture with my hand. Kinney was right, she needed to get behind the bar. She looked from him to me and back again but then gave us a grim nod as she left us.

We got the guy outside. As soon as that happened, I knew at least Devin would be all right. Dale here was no longer in
The Dive
. Whatever came next, it wouldn’t land on the bar.

What came next was a stream of projectile vomiting that probably saved the kid’s life. It didn’t do much for Man Bun’s alligator boots. The kid was still half gorked out of his mind, but his color was better. He was probably going to be okay.

“Now get him the fuck out of here,” Kinney said. “And stay the fuck away from
The Dive
for a while. You got me?”

Shaggy nodded. “We’re cool, man. Thanks.” He shot me a nervous glance then Shaggy and Man Bun helped a staggering Dale across the street and out of sight. Kinney slapped me on the shoulder and we headed back toward the bar. He moved toward the door but I held him back.

“Hold up,” I said. “You got time for a smoke?” Kinney cocked his head to the side then nodded. He produced a pack from his back pocket and handed me a cigarette. I took it from him and we ducked into the alley and leaned against the brick wall. Kinney lit up but I just held the thing between my fingers. I quit five years ago. In that moment, the temptation to light up burned through me like wildfire. But when Kinney offered me a light I held up a finger. He shrugged and took a drag.

“Thanks,” he finally said, blowing out a ring of smoke. “It would have caused problems for Devin if that got out of hand back there.”

“How much does she know about what’s going on right under her nose?” The question hung there. Kinney’s answer one way or the other probably wasn’t worth much if he denied she had any involvement. He could be lying. On the other hand, if he admitted to me right then and there that Devin had a piece of the trafficking going on in her bar … well … that would present a whole new set of problems.

“You need something?”

I didn’t answer, though my heart pounded in my chest. “Depends.”

“Doesn’t it always? I’ll give you one piece of advice. Steer clear of Devin. She doesn’t want trouble.”

It was kind of a non-answer, but at least it was something. He was telling me if I was looking to score, she wasn’t the one to approach. It was a good sign but nothing more.

I nodded. “She has big dreams for this place. And she’s having a good night.”

“Yeah. Very big.”

A silence settled between us as Kinney puffed on his cigarette. I knew I might not get a better chance and hoped I’d gauged right. Kinney seemed the most likely guy in the bar to get me in. I reached over and took the lighter from him. It would be just the one. And I needed to take the fucking edge off my nerves. God. As the smoke filled my lungs, calm settled over me. Kinney and I leaned shoulder to shoulder against the brick wall.

I exhaled. “You straight?”

Kinney ground out the butt of his cigarette with his heel and gave me a sideways glance. He paused a beat. Two. And I knew I’d guessed right.

“What’re you lookin’ for?”

“Just a ball. Hot Shot.”

He nodded. If I’d asked for a hit or fumbled for money, he’d think I was just another junkie. I didn’t think Kinney was the real player here. I’d been watching him closely for weeks. But I knew he could hook me up with whoever it was. It was tempting to ask for more. Let him know I was looking for more than just a score. But one step at a time or I risked blowing it all together. Bait the hook.

“Yeah,” he said. “Did you get a good look at Dale? A lot of people can’t handle that shit.”

“So I hear. Do I look like some college boy?”

He looked around the corner. When he turned back to me he stuck out his hand. I palmed a twenty into his and he slapped me on the shoulder again. He walked into the bar and I stayed put. One more drag, then I ground my cigarette out against the wall and threw the butt in the dumpster.

It only took him five minutes to come back. So either he had a stash somewhere on the premises or somebody else did. My heart sank. I’d been hoping some car would pull up. But the shit was right fucking here. In the bar. Kinney said she wasn’t the connection, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t involved. I wanted to rule Devin out so badly, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Dammit.

* * *

I
made
buys the next three nights. Same amount. I hinted to Kinney I was looking to score something bigger. He kept his face even but didn’t exactly blow me off. I decided to take that as progress.

Devin was something else altogether. I kept my distance and I could tell by the hurt look in her eyes she knew something was off between us. I played it off, told her I was just trying to honor our agreement to keep things professional. If she
was
the distributor for her uncle, she had to know I’d reached out to Kinney. But there was still an innocence about the way she acted around me. I’m good at reading people. It’s how I’ve survived. But this girl had me completely mystified.

At the end of the week it was time to meet with Stan Lewandowski again. He picked a coffee shop on Front Street on the other side of town. This time he didn’t come alone. My body went rigid as I stood in the doorway of the coffee shop. Stan had picked a corner booth and sat facing me. Beside him was another guy, about my age, mid-thirties. Blond hair, broad shoulders, and steel gray eyes that scanned the room. Another cop for sure. Dressed in casual street clothes. A dark blue golf shirt and khakis. But he had that telltale broad-shouldered posture. As I got closer, I saw the bulge beneath his shirt on his right hip where he had his weapon holstered.

I didn’t like it one damn bit. The more people who knew about me and this operation, the harder it would be to keep it contained. I trusted Stan but only so far. He should have given me a heads up.

Stan waved two fingers. I cocked my head to the side and gave him a terse nod back. Then I walked past the rows of red leather booths and sat down opposite Stan and his companion.

“This is Detective Mitch Gates. Computer Crimes. He’s one of mine. Mitch, Jase Reddick.”

I dropped my shoulders at the introduction. So Gates knew my real name too. I sure fucking hoped Stan’s judgment was solid on this. Gates reached across the table and shook my hand in a firm grip. He didn’t crack a smile but stared hard at me, before his eyes flicked to Stan. “Reddick?”

I nodded and leaned back in my seat.

“You related to Colt Reddick?” Gates asked. So far, he wasn’t doing much to put me at ease. I braced myself for another load of shit about Colt’s connections to the Great Wolves MC. But then Gates surprised me.

“Your brother’s really started to turn things around in Lincolnshire, hasn’t he? Word I’m hearing the club’s gone legit and the waterfront area down there is really cleaned up.”

“Yeah. Not everybody sees it that way.”

Gates raised a brow. “It’s not easy changing people’s opinions of you, is it? Most of ’em see what they want to see.”

I caught Stan’s eye. He was smiling and gave me a quick nod that seemed to convey “I told you so” about Mitch Gates. Okay, so he’d just said the right thing. That didn’t mean I was ready to trust him with my life.

The waitress came by with a pot of coffee. I had her fill my cup to the brim and passed on the cream and sugar. I waved off the menu. This needed to be a short visit. The longer I was out in public with the Chief of Police, the greater the risk. I was taking a fat lot on faith today from Stan.

“I trust Mitch,” Stan said, sensing everything swirling in my mind. “You can too. We’re going to need his help with this. I’ve filled him in on the outlines of what’s going on. You got anything new to add?”

I scratched my chin with my thumb and took a shallow sip of the steaming coffee. It was good and strong and my fourth cup of the morning. I brought Stan and now Mitch up to speed on the last week and a half. A question hung in the air between us. Stan stirred his coffee with a fork then set it down on the table with a clang.

“You think the girl’s the distributor?”

His question landed over my shoulders with a thud. I hated even thinking it, but I knew it had to be dealt with. “I don’t know. That’s the God’s honest truth. But I gotta tell you, my gut says no. She’s smart. Hard working. Everything about her just seems legit. She’s trying to put a solid business together the right way. Her running an operation for her uncle, I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to me. When I asked Anthony Kinney about her, he steered me away from her as quick as he could. That counts for something.”

I didn’t like the look that passed between Gates and Stan. In fact, I kind of wanted to punch Gates in the face just then. It must have shown on my face because Gates smiled and held up his hands in surrender. In that moment, I started to like him a little better. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t have still punched him in the face.

Mitch leaned back in his seat. “Look, I don’t know you like Stan does. But we know the uncle’s the supplier. We know he’s moving a lot of product through that bar. Chief brought me in for a couple of reasons. One of them being a fresh set of ears. You mind running me through what you have other than your gut feeling and one offhanded comment from a low-level dealer?”

The urge to punch him outweighed the growing respect just then. “They’re protective of her,” I said. I hadn’t preplanned it, but the instant the words were out of my mouth, I knew I’d hit on a big piece of why my gut told me what it did about her. “The bartender, Kinney. The one who’s been hooking me up. Whenever anything remotely shady’s about to go down, he gets her the hell out of the way. And it’s not just him. The rest of them too. And I’ve never seen any secretive conversations between them. It’s all been straight. Just about regular bar business.”

Gates nodded and another look passed between him and Stan. “That’s one of the other main reasons I wanted Gates in on this,” Stan said. “I think maybe it’s time to come at this from more than one direction.”