“Hello?” She waved her hand in front of her. “You still with me?”
“What were you doing talking with that scum in the arcade?”
“Which scum?”
“The one with the tail and little girls.”
She lowered her gaze to his torso, her heartbeats picking up. The wind pressed his sweater against his flat stomach. “Getting directions. What’s it to you?”
“I don’t believe you.” His voice held a cold challenge.
She looked away, her body going still. Mouse lay on the ground. The pocketknife was gone. There was no way she could outmaneuver Saven should he become aggressive. She’d have to make a run for it. Her eyes veered to the ocean.
“Don’t even think about it. Here.” He shoved a business card toward her.
He was closer. Alarm shot through her, and she stepped back.
He’s big, but his body language isn’t threatening
. She swallowed. Was it?
He must have sensed something because he stooped to level his face closer to hers. Two tiny freckles sat side-by-side below his right eye. Black and thick, his lashes shadowed his topaz stare. Not the brown listed in his description. But then when had she ever read topaz listed as a color description on any I.D.?
“Is this better?” he asked softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She didn’t answer. She was too preoccupied with the unwanted stirrings low in her belly. Her gaze was leveled with his smooth neck and the pronounced slope of his Adam’s apple. His action relaxed her more than having him loom over her like a gorgeous threat. Too bad he didn’t know she didn’t trust anyone who said they weren’t going to hurt her.
“I want my wallet back. The cops—” He scowled suddenly, moving his gaze once more to her mouth. She had the oddest urge to lift her hand to cover her lips. “Forget the cops. How old
are
you?”
She worked hard not to show surprise. “Why?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Old enough.”
His jaw flexed as he straightened to his full height. “You’re underage.”
“Hard to be at twenty-one.”
His full lips curved.
The smile made him look too easy-going, too approachable. Not words she should associate with him. She looked at the card now at his side.
You know you can’t pass up this perfect opportunity. This is your chance
.
“Name’s Jonas Saven,” he said, and she glanced up. “I run the club Zero. It’s opening tonight. Bring my wallet.” Sirens crooned in the distance. “I have to go.” Two fingers held the card out to her again. His nails were groomed clean and short. “Take it, in case the police need to contact me.”
Right. But she took the card. Cops weren’t likely the first choice of company for a drug dealer.
“Stay out of trouble.”
“What?” she retorted. “You think I go looking for it?”
“There’s no doubt, after you picked my pocket.” He looked at Mouse. “Tell your friend he can keep the cash as long as he returns the wallet. If he doesn’t, I’ll find him.”
His tone cut a nerve. “You know what you can do with your orders—”
He held up a hand and shook his head so casually she knew he was used to dismissing people like her. “Not now. I’ll expect you tonight.”
Who the hell did he think he was?
“Your color’s back.” He ran a finger gently over her cheek before she could evade him. Surely she was only imagining the warmth his finger left behind. “You’ll be okay.”
“No doubt about it.”
He smiled that arrogant smile and left.
Jerk.
But then the rich always came off that way in her experience. Ana gave the card one more perusal before tapping it against her cheek. She had to get the wallet back to Saven or Mouse would pay the consequence.
Was it luck she’d gotten an opening to meet Saven again? There was no doubt Saven worked for Brooks—which meant Saven worked on the wrong side of the law. His interest in the dealer only backed up that assumption.
She had a role to play. And luck or not, Saven had just given her the perfect opportunity to fulfill it.
4:33 p.m.
Ana dragged herself through the door of SIDE headquarters, absently listening to the creaks of each weak spot on the scarred stairs as she trudged up to the second floor. She’d contacted a few more street sources and received the same answers. Each had said he only carried a few Ecstasy tablets on him and no one had heard any recent rumors. With a sigh, she sniffed the forearm of her sweatshirt.
Damn, she stank like yesterday’s garbage—literally.
Besides that, her wrist ached and the right side of her body felt like one giant bruise. She wiggled her fingers and winced. At least she’d made the bastard bleed.
Mouse would be patched up, released. It wasn’t like the kid had insurance. He’d ditched the wallets in an arcade trash bin, which had been dumped in a pier dumpster—one she’d sifted through to find Saven’s prized possession. When the cops arrived, she’d simply told them Mouse had been mugged, and when she’d come upon them the assaulters had run. Seemed best to leave Saven out altogether.
She pictured his handsome face, and the intent way he’d studied her. An uncontrollable shiver traveled down her back.
What she should be focusing on was why Saven and the X dealer were in the same place at the same time. That was too much of a coincidence to be ignored. How long had he been watching the dealer? How long had he been watching her?
And if Saven and the dealer were associated, why didn’t he ask the dealer about her conversation with him? But then again, he may have. Saven could have given the dealer the heads-up the police were on their way. Tommy had been gone when she went back into the arcade. Not a surprise with the cops close by.
Either way, Saven had helped her and Mouse. She supposed he earned points for stepping in. She remembered the cold rage on his face when she’d grabbed his arm to pull him off the guy. Watching Saven force the fury back had been intriguing. That took control. Something she didn’t always have herself.
No doubt women regularly fell at his feet, but she had no plans to audition for that role.
She wanted to succeed in this mission, though. She would take Saven up on his summons to club Zero, dig up any possible drug business. Find out his interest in the dealer.
Did he really just want his wallet back? Or did he want something else from her?
She ambled down SIDE’s hall on the top floor. Bare and stale, the interior held a slight scent of mildew that wouldn’t go away. A couple of rat holes dotted the walls. The abandoned firehouse served as a useful cover for SIDE, with a sign on the front door listing it as a private office.
No Trespassing
. No one did.
She turned a corner on her way to the meet room and ran into Skates. Sweating and wide-eyed, skateboard clutched in front of him, he jerked his body at every little sound.
His paler-than-usual vanilla-toned skin gave her a jolt. Ana grabbed him by his arm, which was surprisingly firmer than he appeared to be.
“Whoa, kid. What’s going on?” She pushed him toward one of the empty bathrooms. “Come here a minute.”
Inside, she shoved him down on the chipped toilet lid, shut the door and turned the pitiful lock. She leaned down, resting her palms on her thighs, and stared into his wide, glassy eyes. His pupils were pinpricks. Unease stirred in her stomach.
Kid, what have you done?
“You got something to tell me?” she asked him softly, prying his skateboard from him to set on the floor.
Two tears ran down his cheeks.
“Switch,” he whispered. “I screwed up. I was scared, you know?” He sniffled. “I’d been out asking questions and everything was cool. I met with this dealer, goes by Doms. He said I asked too many questions. I got real nervous-like and started making up all these excuses and went for the door. He had these guys
grab me
and he told me if I didn’t want him to think I was a narc, that I’d better do some lines of Yola.” He covered his face, cutting off his hysteric ramble, and sobbed.
“Go on.” But she knew.
“He said…” He dropped his hands, swallowed. “He said if I didn’t, he’d know I was a narc and hurt me, or kill me. So I did.” He hugged himself, his body vibrating with tremors. “But I dunno, I think it was bad stuff. I think it was laced or something. I feel sick.” He shuddered. “Real sick.”
He didn’t
look
good at all. Was it a bad trip off the drugs, due to paranoia? Or something worse? Maybe it really had been laced with something.
Skates burst into tears and leaned on her, banding his long arms firmly around her waist.
She froze, arms suspended in the air. Oh, God. “Get a hold of yourself, Skates.” She pushed the words out, trying to step back.
“I don’t know what to do.”
He spoke with his head down, his arms still attached to her. “Oh man, if Sarge sees me, it’s all over. I’m outta here, and I can’t go back to a cage. I can’t. I’ll die in there. I had to come for our meet. Had to.”
“
Shhh
. Take it easy, kid.” She stared down at his blue-dyed hair. Buzzed short, she could see his scalp was tinted blue.
He must have just dyed his hair.
An odd thing to think as his body shook against her, as his tears dampened her sweatshirt. But there you go, it was a lot easier to think about his hair than wonder about the odd sensation constricting her chest.
The team knew Skates couldn’t handle violence. He wasn’t strong enough for this crap they were involved in. He was supposed to function as their yellow pages to the underground black market. Need info? Just let Skates’s fingers do the walking. Somehow the rep as drug underworld liaison didn’t fit him, though.
With a solid grip on his arms, she forced him to let go of her. He blinked up at her, blue irises bright beacons against the tiny red lines cutting through the white in his eyes. His cheeks flushed from the bout of tears. Nose nice and stuffy.
She shook her head. “Why are you here, Skates?”
“What?”
“What did you do to get yourself in SIDE?”
His eyes widened before he jerked his gaze to the floor. “Can’t. Can’t talk about it.”
His business. Ana could respect that. But if Sarge saw him, he’d know Skates was on something. He’d demand a piss sample without taking the time to listen to an explanation. Sarge only listened to himself and the government high rollers who backed the program.
Skates’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked so helpless. Alone. She’d felt those things more than once. During low times, she’d wished with everything inside of her for someone to help. The reality that no one would had nearly swamped her with despair. She didn’t wish that feeling on anyone, let alone Skates.
She shook her head, already regretting what was about to come out of her mouth. “Look. This one time, I’ll help you out. But I mean it—this is it. You have to get your act together. Learn to take care of yourself.” She couldn’t let him become a liability to her. A liability brought you nowhere but down. And priority one was to keep
her
ass out of a cell.
His eyes widened, his head bobbed. “Okay.”
“Did you find out information today?”
His head bobbed again. “Yeah, dealer connected to Tyler. Meyer. Derek. Hangs at the Ink Dome. Tatts all over. Weird skull tatt on his bald head. A same-sex bar. I didn’t go.” He looked away.
“It’s all right. Now listen.” She pulled his face to hers. “Listen. I’m going to give you a key to my studio. Go straight there. I’ll think of something to cover for you. Lay down and rest, okay?”
His glazed eyes locked on her like she was a guardian angel.
Right. Angel, her butt.
After slipping him the key, she edged open the door and peeked out. So far so good. She led him down the stairs and out the door. The wind chilled her.
Raising a hand just above his baby face, she paused, then lowered it to pat his shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
He nodded and took off down the street on his skateboard.
Great, Ana, now you’re saying things that might not be true
. Brilliant. Next, she’d be swearing to grant miracles.
Shutting the door, she turned and collided into the tank-hard chest of Jax. She jerked back.
Covering her surprise, she grinned. “What are you doing creeping up on people?”
His pale blue eyes were suspicious. “Where’d Paul go?”
“Skates. You know we’re not supposed to use real names in the firehouse.” She tsked. “Not good. You know Sarge is touchy about that.” Her eyes shifted to his bandaged shoulder. “Tick somebody off?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Looks like you pissed off somebody, too. Nothing new.” He motioned with a finger to her scratch on her cheek then, frowning, sniffed the air. “You been diving in garbage or something?”
She rolled a shoulder. “Something like that.”
“Where did
Skates
take off to?”
“Stomach bug.” She scratched her neck. “Sent him to my pad. Didn’t think he would make it to his own.”
“How come he didn’t talk to Sarge or Jay-man?”
She lifted her eyebrows, but she’d never been good at the innocent look. “How do you know he didn’t?”
“He didn’t.” His eyes performed a slow scan of her face. “Sarge is waiting for him.”
Ana focused on his bandage and the few dots of dried blood seeping through the tiny squares of the dressing. Her gaze veered to his other shoulder. A tattoo of a skull-faced character riding a chopper. Not much of an improvement over a bloody bandage. “I’m telling you, he must have ate something bad. I told him to take it easy.”
“That, right?” His bruised hand went up and rubbed at his stubbled jaw. The action caused tiny scraping sounds. “Maybe I should check on him.”
She kept her face bland. “Don’t bother. He’ll be fine.”
When she tried to pass him, Jax laid a warm arm across her stomach. She slapped his hand aside. Not hard, but enough to get it away from her.
“
Move
,” she said.
“Take it easy, tough guy.” His mouth tugged up in amusement. “I want to tell you about that proposition I mentioned.”
She crossed her arms. “So, let’s have it.”
“I figure this is the perfect opportunity to see who’s the better player. Which one of us can pull this off and get the answer to the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question—who’s expecting the shipment of X and where?”
Ana frowned, mentally searching for a trap.
“Unless you’re too scared because you know who will win,” Jax challenged.
The guy knew what buttons to push. “I’ll have this thing wrapped up before you even have your first lead.”
Jax smiled bright and sweet. A real pisser since his smile made his rugged face even more appealing.
“Good.” He held out his hand. She shook it.
Then his eyelids drifted lower, and his voice went deep. “And when I win,
chiquita
, I get to take you out
with
the privilege of having you in my bed.”
Sarge checked his wristwatch when Ana walked in behind Jax. He looked antsy. Actually, antsy was an understatement: he looked like he was trying to grind a path in the hardwood floor in front of his desk.
Ana wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, either. Not with Jax’s proposition spinning in her mind.
If she won, Jax promised to be out of her face for a week. Somehow this didn’t balance the stakes, since she was supposed to jump in his bed as his prize if he won. Especially since the latter broke rule 501: no fraternizing between SIDE members. But if she’d learned anything growing up in the system, it was that going with the flow was the best choice.
She’d just have to win the bet. No sweat.
When Sarge finally saw her, he bit out, “You’re late. Where’s Skates?”
“That’s what I was about to tell you. The kid ate some bad fish or something.”
His lips disappeared under his thick mustache.
“He’d been on the toilet for the past half hour and wasn’t looking so hot. I offered him my pad to rest.”
He took three strides and was toe-to-toe with her. “Are you telling me he left without speaking with me or Jay?”
Her insides jolted at his closeness, but she held her ground, tilting her head to meet his eyes. “I’m telling you, he’s bad. Sick as a dog.” Then she played her trump card. “Would I risk getting written up for him, if it wasn’t the truth?” Usually, this would be a valid question. Sarge and everyone else knew she was all for saving herself first.
“Jay, check the system. Make sure Skates is where Switch says he is. If he isn’t, there’ll be a price to pay for both of them. If it’s true, I want his butt here so I can see for myself.” Jay-man left the room. “Have a seat.”
He turned his back and relief settled in her as she sat. Maybe the kid would be feeling better by the time he returned to the firehouse. She’d at least bought him some time to sober up.
Everyone was silent. Digit and Romeo studied Sarge as if he were some kind of feared monster.
That’s the way Sarge liked it. When he talked, he wanted everyone to listen. Too bad he didn’t always get what he wanted.
“Skates tell you about any leads?”
“As a matter a fact, he mentioned he’d received word of a dealer named Derek Meyer who deals for Salvador Tyler. Hangs at the Ink Dome. Bald, lots of tatts. Distinctive skull tattoo on his head.” She nodded her chin in Jax’s direction. “Jax’s sort of place.”
Jax gave her a bored look. “Right. That place’s for gays.”
She grinned. “I rest my case.”
“Enough,” Sarge interrupted. “Anything else?”
Her smile fell away. “Just that I managed a first glimpse of Jonas Saven today.”
The room went still.
“Bullshit,” Jax said. “What are the chances of you running into him today? One to a hundred. Hell, a thousand.”
“You’re just pissed I’m one step ahead of you.”
“What happened?” Sarge snapped out. “Spill it, Switch.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I followed a lead, got into it with some thugs. Saven followed and helped us out. He called an ambulance for my source and took off.” No need to mention the real reason he’d followed her. Sarge wouldn’t be too happy with her overstepping the law…even to pick a drug dealer’s pocket for a lead.