Razors Edge was just as she remembered, with its peeling linoleum floor, the jukebox in the corner that hadn’t worked in years, and road sign paraphernalia covering all four walls. Three pool tables stood at the far end of the room, nicotine-stained lights hung from a rain-damaged celling, and the beer logo on the side was barely visible.
The old door creaked in protest as she allowed it to close behind her, blinking several times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the sunless interior. A handful of characters sat at the wooden bar, she wasn’t surprised at the emptiness of the establishment, as it wasn’t much past noon. Having every head turn in her direction didn’t surprise her either; she was dressed like a slut and by the looks of things, exactly what these guys were looking for.
Over-exaggerating the sway in her hips, she crossed the room, ignoring the catcalls from two men standing at one of the pool tables, their game forgotten as the heel of her boots clicked against the rough floor. Justice knew the second the owner of the bar saw her, she was going to have no problem talking him into a job.
Sliding onto the first stool she came to, she leaned over, giving the man behind the bar a full view of her chest. When he licked his lips hungrily, continuing to dry the glass in his hands, she knew she could ask for the moon and the fucker would give it to her.
“What can I do for ya, darlin’?”
“What are my options?” she questions, eyeing him up and down as she allows the tip of her tongue to outline her upper lip.
“Depends on what you need.”
Realization hits her as the door to the bar opens again, the light from the day illuminating the man’s face. Justice knew this guy, or at least she used to. Big Jim, they called him, a biker who took on a semi and lived to tell about it. The accident left him with an amputated leg and a large scar over his eye. The attorney who took his case won him enough money to live comfortably and buy this bar.
“I need a job. You got one of those?”
“Depends,” Big Jim tossed back, his eyes falling to her chest.
“On?” She prodded when he failed to finish his sentence, too distracted with the double D’s spilling on the oak bar top.
“If those are real or not.” He stammered, tossing the towel in his hand over his shoulder.
“Only one way to find out.” Jumping from her chair, she rounded the bar and stuck her tits out for his inspection. After feeling her up, he asked her to come in three nights a week, slapping her ass as he went to help a customer.
Putting to use some of the skills she learned from other inmates, she was able to obtain a fake ID and social security card. By the time she finished the paperwork, Big Jim told her to go ahead and start.
As she served drinks, sat on laps and let more than one wandering hand up the front of her skirt, she heard the name she had been listening for since she arrived.
“Hey, Rex. How’d the meet up with Red go today? You joinin’ up with his bunch?”
Attempting to stand, her focus on getting closer to this Rex fella, she was pulled back into the lap she tried to exit.
“I wasn’t done with you, darlin’.” Landing a slap to her leather clad ass. Fighting the urge to bloody this guy’s nose, she laughed like an empty-headed idiot, shoving her tits in his face. Men were so goddamn predictable, distract them with a little tits and ass, they turn into lap dogs.
While the dumbass was enjoying his lack of oxygen courtesy of Mother Nature’s generosity in the boobs department, she concentrated on the table behind her where the two men sat drinking beer.
“He’s looking for a few more guys, said he would be at the bar over on Maple all week.”
Justice wasn’t aware of a bar on Maple, but it had been a while since the last time she roamed the streets.
“Got himself a fine young bitch, sucks cock like a fucking Hoover.”
Releasing the face of the drunk biker under her, she slips out the back door, her shift being over an hour ago. Her blood boiled as she moved down the alley, around garbage cans and a couple who were fucking against the brick wall. Red better hope and pray this new bitch wasn’t her little sister, or the motherfucker was going to regret the day he was born.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Tobias watchedas the men across the street harassed the waitress serving them pitchers of beer. For the past week, it had been the same three showing up, as the heat and humidity made the air thick and sticky. He had internally mocked them as he sipped his drink while enjoying the comfort of the air-conditioned coffee shop. While he preferred the daytime temperatures here in Georgia over the Arctic freeze of his home in Boston, he was thankful this part of his surveillance could be done from his current position.
Last night, after the sun went down, he jumped the back fence on the property owned by the man across the street. It had taken Tobias ten seconds to find out where Red lived, and while he could have slit his throat in his sleep and been on a plane back to Boston this morning, it wasn’t his style. He preferred sending a clear message to anyone who was considering doing business with Drake, leaving behind examples of how severe the consequences would be if they failed to keep their end of the bargain.
After he returned to his hotel, he was perusing through the photos he’d taken when Drake called with the news of Deidre’s death. Tobias offered his condolences and his willingness to return to Boston for the services, but Drake declined, explaining how difficult his ex-mother and sister-in-law were being. Her mother, Fiona, wanted her daughter’s body brought back in Drake’s jet, and not a commercial plane. Drake spoke of how he shut the pair down; reminding them how Deidre was on her way to her lover’s home, leaving her marital bed for the comfort of another man. He told them to go find Bremmer and have him send his jet for her. Drake would pay for the funeral and handle all the arrangements getting his late wife back to Boston, but they were on their own for any extras.
Listening to Drake and his ongoing issues with Deidre’s family brought back memories of his brief encounter with her sister, Joanna. His path had crossed Joanna’s during a visit to his little sister’s gym. Joanna eyed him up and down, sending all the appropriate signals she wanted him. Given the fact he was a healthy male with no commitments, he seized the opportunity.
When drinks turned into a make-out session in front of her apartment, he emphasized his position on there being no promise of tomorrow. He wouldn’t call her, or send her any text messages; there would be no flowers or even a second date. Joanna had agreed at the time, bragging about not needing a man underfoot. In the light of a new day, Joanna changed her mind and began calling and sending him a million text messages, all of which he ignored. When she visited his little sister, causing a scene at the gym she owned, Joanna got more than she bargained for, fists flew and blood from a broken nose splattered against the wall.
For several weeks after the incident, he experienced radio silence from Joanna. After the third week, he felt confident she had learned her lesson and knew to stay away from him. One day shy of the one-month mark, Joanna and Deidre’s father, George, paid him a visit, tried to intimidate him to make things right with his daughter. When he laughed and slammed the door in his face, Tobias knew he hadn’t heard the last of them. As he was coming home a few days later, he noticed someone following him. Parking his car in the garage, he doubled back and caught the guy George had sent, waiting in his car a few spaces away. Tobias sent George a warning of his own, a note clenched in the severed hand of the idiot, advising him the next time he went after him, he had better send a man to do the job, not someone who didn’t have a clue what he was doing. The next morning, he phoned Joanna from Drake’s office, if she wanted to act crazy, he would treat her as such. He demanded to know how she remembered of the conversation they had prior to fucking. When she confirmed what they had agreed on, he questioned her as to why all the drama. Joanna gave him an award-winning performance, as she spoke highly of her part of the act.