Page 3 of Stone Deep
“Yes, I did. But, actually, I was just hoping you could tell me where your last tenant, Damon Rathmore, moved? He had some of my sister’s things with him when he moved out.”
An irritated pause followed. “I don’t keep information like that,” he said sharply. “I’m very sorry, Miss Henley, but I can’t help you.” He hung up. I’d expected it. But I wasn’t about to give up. I needed to know what’d happened to my sister, and Damon was the person with the answers. I wasn’t completely sure how, but I was going to track him down.
THREE
SLADE
“So, Slade, was I telling the truth or what?” Cleveland poured the last of the beer into his glass. He was a large, soft-as-pudding looking guy who had hair sprouting out of just about every inch of his face and arms. He reminded me of a big, doughy werewolf, but he was a decent guy and he’d taught me a lot about working on a fishing boat.
I finished my last drops. “The beer is tasty and cheap. I’ll give you that.”
“And?” he prodded. “The women?”
I patted my pocket. “Yep, I got some promising phone numbers.”
“And you’ll send the extras my way. That was part of the deal, remember? Although, I’m pretty sure that girl with the pink streaks in her hair already wanted me. She kept eyeing me while she was talking to you.”
“That might have been because of the way you were looking at her. Dude, you’ve taught me a lot about fishing, so let me give you a few pointers in my area of expertise. Don’t show desperation. Even if your cock hurts just lookingat them, don’t stare at women like you’re going to eat them for dinner.” I circled my hand in front of him. “You’ve already got the whole werewolf thing going on, so cool it with the whole licking your chops expression.”
“Right. I won’t lick my chops.” He leaned back against his chair. “Still no word on the greenhorn position in Alaska?” Cleveland had been traveling to the Bering Sea every fall and winter for three years. He’d given me a lot of tips on how to get hired on a crab fishing crew, and he’d encouraged me to give it a try.
“No word yet. Do you think that means I didn’t get it?”
“Nah, it’s only August. The captains are working on getting their boats and equipment ready for the season. They aren’t worried about crew members yet. You’ll hear soon enough.”
I glanced around the Cuckoo’s Nest Saloon. It was a decent sized place with a small dance floor near the jukebox and a row of dark green stools running along the bar counter. There was a mix of people inside, including some who looked as if they’d driven out from the city after a day in the office and some who looked as if they’d spent their entire week doing more questionable things than working. Cleveland had talked me into trying out the place, but I still felt guilty being there.
I turned to him. “Just remember, I was never here with you. I won’t hear the end of it from Amy.”
“Feeling like a traitor, eh?” Cleveland lifted his beer. “You need to stretch your horizons. Now that Hunter is married and Colt, it seems, is not far behind, you’ll be the last Stone standing.”
Loud, obnoxious laughter roared up from the farthestcorner of the bar. Three guys had been sitting there all night getting completely wasted and being, in general, fucking annoying. People were walking a wide berth around the table just to avoid them. Even the servers seemed to be taking turns so that the burden didn’t fall to one person. I’d been avoiding eye contact with them all night because I was pretty sure any interaction with one of them would lead to trouble.
Cleveland glanced their direction. “Those dicks are regulars here on Friday nights. Not completely sure what the hell their stories are, but they ride around on motorcycles and bully people.”
“Are they in a club? I don’t see any cuts.”
“Nah, just a bunch of wannabes.”
We were close enough to the door to feel the cool night air float in every time someone walked inside. A petite girl strode in purposefully looking about as angry as someone with an incredibly pretty face could look. Her dark brown hair was cut in one of those short pixie styles. It stood up in spikes in some places, a look that worked for her. With her big brown eyes, tiny button nose and perfectly shaped lips, she was nothing short of beautiful.
“Check out the little wood sprite in tight ripped jeans and a sweatshirt. She just needs a pair of silvery wings.” Cleveland pointed her out as if there was any way I could have missed her. She was tiny, but she’d swept into the bar like a fucking meteor shower, a breathtaking meteor shower.
She stopped in front of our table and looked around. Her brown eyes darted angrily about the room.
“What’s the matter, Tinkerbell?” I asked. “Did you lose your magic fairy dust?”
Her gaze flitted toward the three loudmouths in the corner, and she marched toward them.
Cleveland laughed. “Did my eyes deceive me or did a member of the female gender just ignore Slade Stone?”
“It happens.” I lifted a finger at him. “But it’s rare, trust me.”
A simultaneous gasp sucked the air in the room silent. Only the jukebox was still cranking along with a Johnny Cash tune. All eyes were on the girl. That’s when I saw the glint of a gun barrel under the copper pendant light dangling overhead.
“Shit, the wingless pixie has a gun,” Cleveland muttered. The other patrons ducked for cover, and full shocked silence extinguished all the energy from the room. The three assholes who had been loud and annoying were now frozen in fear. She’d picked one of the guys, in particular. He was a big dude with a shaved head and a beard. He leaned back hard against the seat of the booth as if that could get him out of the gun’s path.
“Where is he?” she said sharply. There was a slightly raspy sound to her small voice, a little honey mixed with sand, and, warped asshole that I was, I couldn’t help thinking how good that gritty voice would sound in the heat of a good fuck.
