Head Above Water (Nightshade MC Book 4) (2 page)

It was the smaller of the two bedrooms; she'd chosen it for the sloped wall and window complete with a window seat. Her queen size bed took up most of the room, but she loved her bed more than the idea of having space. Drea set down the bottle of wine, began to undress and felt about a thousand times better once she'd changed into her favorite sleep shirt and fluffy slippers. Out of habit she tossed her dirty clothes in the wash, turned the bed down and plugged in her phone. The silence of the house was normally a comfort, but tonight it just made her realize how isolated she really was.

Drea picked up the bottle again. There was no way in hell it was making it through the night.

<#<#<#<#

The following morning it was clear to Drea that she shouldn't have followed the bottle of wine with the better part of a bottle of tequila. Her head felt as if a million manic monkeys were dancing around inside. Even after she threw up, twice, it didn't get much better.

Still, she dragged herself out of bed and somehow managed to open Love and Lace. She kept her sunglasses on even once she was inside and didn't turn on music like she normally would. After an energy drink, orange juice and a couple of headache pills, Drea almost felt human again. A glance in the mirror told her that unfortunately she still looked more zombie than human.

The small bathroom in back had the bare necessities. After she actually brushed her hair and washed her face, she still looked like shit, but no one was going to mistake her for the walking dead. The bell over the front door chimed, announcing the arrival of a customer. Drea took one last look in the mirror, plastered a smile on her face and walked out into the showroom.

Immediately, she recognized the customer. Claire was a tall, thin blonde with a calculated smiled. She was one of the women referred to as pass-arounds by Nightshade. Women who provided the guys with whatever they needed or wanted, without any claim at all to them. Personally, Drea didn't get it, but who was she to judge? “Hi, Claire.”

“Rough night last night, Drea? It must have been going around, because I still haven't been to bed, or rather I should say I still haven't slept.” Claire boasted with a giggle. “I need an amazing set. Something that just begs to be torn off of my body.”

“I've got just the thing.” Drea ignored Claire's question about her night and walked her over to a rack that contained some of her newer stock. It was barely-there variety, wisps of fabric essentially designed to be torn off of the body. Personally, Drea preferred something more substantial, something enticing, not something that made her look like she charged by the hour.

Claire actually squealed at the sight of the outfits, rushed over and grabbed at least four sets without so much as glancing at the price. “Let me take those to the counter for you, keep your hands free,” Drea offered. Claire shoved the clothes at her, without even a thank you, which wasn't much of a surprise. Claire could be an asshole. Most people could be assholes; working retail had pretty much confirmed that for her. It was easy to let it roll off her back because a quick mental tally told her that Claire had spent almost two hundred dollars, and she was just getting started.

Drea carried the items over to the counter, took out one of the canvas totes emblazoned with the cursive Ls that made up the Love and Lace logo as well as a couple of the scented sachets she'd gotten as a promotional item.

Claire carried an armful of items over to the counter ten minutes later. Drea rang the items in. The total sale was five hundred and thirty dollars. The blond didn't blink an eye at the total, she just reached into her purse and pulled out cash. “Hey, Drea. You're single, right?” she asked as she handed over the bills.

“At the moment,” Drea replied. She took the money and made change quickly; it was time to get Claire on her way out of the door before she got more personal.

“That's perfect. You should totally come and hang out with me this Friday. There's going to be a big Nightshade party, for Caesar's birthday. There's hot guys, free drinks. What more can a girl want? I'll show you the ropes. It'll be a blast.”

Drea nearly asked what the ropes were but quickly decided that she'd rather not know. Instead, she smiled. “Thanks for thinking of me, Claire, but I don't think so.” The way that the woman looked at her, you'd have thought Drea had admitted to drowning puppies for shits and giggles.

“Suit yourself,” Claire huffed. “But when you change your mind, it's going to be too late,” she threatened.

“I'll just have to live with that. Have a good one, Claire.” Drea kept her smile on her face until Claire turned to leave without another word. She flipped her middle finger up at the woman's retreating back.

Drea knew that she should restock, replacing the items that Claire had just purchased, but she really didn't want to. Suddenly, she was starving and relatively sure that if she ate, it would stay down.

She normally closed at one for lunch, but what was the point of having her own shop if she couldn't take lunch when she wanted to now and then? Drea stuck the out to lunch sign on the door and walked the three blocks to Mac and Cheese. Despite its name, the small restaurant served just about everything. Drea got a seat at the counter, opened the menu and started to debate her choices. She paid no attention when someone sat next to her.

“So, what's good here?” Frankie's voice made her jump. “Easy, Andrea. It's just a question.”

“What do you want?” Drea didn't want to make a scene. She ate lunch at Mac and Cheese at least once a week, most weeks more. She liked the people who worked there, and she didn't want to have to wonder if they were talking about her behind her back.

“I want to know what's good here. I'm hungry,” he replied. “It's been a long time since we shared a meal.”

“Let me be really clear here, Frankie.” She was in no mood to engage in small talk, or any kind of talk, with Frankie. “I'm not going to give you anything, anything at all, when it comes to my father's business. Nothing is changing that. If you still want to stay and have lunch, that's your choice. Don't expect polite conversation from me during the meal.”

“You know that this won't end well if I can't pay them back,” Frankie all but whined.

“It won't end up well for you,” Drea pointed out. “I've got to admit that I'm not going to lose any sleep over what happens to you, Frankie. Not after the way things have been between us for so long.”

“What about what happens to Sarah?” He asked. “Will you lose sleep over her what happens to her when things go bad?”

“What does Sarah have to do with your debt?” Drea suspected that she knew the answer. Sarah's husband, Matt, was good friends with Frankie. It made total sense that he'd be involved in whatever shit Frankie had stepped in.

“Matt owes what I owe,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “And Matt's debt would be Sarah's problem, wouldn't it? Especially if they want to prove a point.”

Drea was saved from having to come up with an immediate answer as the owner of Mac and Cheese came over to them. “Hey, Drea and friend. Are you ready to order?”

“I am. I'll have the falafel platter, Britt. Extra white and red sauce, please.” Drea's appetite might have disappeared, but she was going to order and eat. It wouldn't do for her to show Frankie that he was getting under her skin. Especially since he'd mentioned Sarah. Her friend hadn't returned her phone calls in nearly a week.

“I'll take the bacon bacon burger with the sweet potato fries. Medium well on the burger, please,” Frankie said with a charming smile. Britt smiled back. Drea felt her stomach roll sickly. “So,” Frankie waited until Britt had moved away to speak again. “How are you feeling about it now?”

Drea felt like she wanted to stab Frankie in the eye with her silverware. Instead of acting on that impulse, she tried to think. The people whom Frankie had borrowed from were the people his father had worked for. The very successful crime family had fingers in a lot of pies. They were the burn and salt the earth type. “How much do you owe them?” The amount would determine how much risk there really was. “What did you need the money for?”

“Quarter of a million, before the interest. And it should have been easy to pay the money back because it was a good idea, a top of the line strip club with all the amenities,” he huffed. “Except right out of the door, nothing went right. Everything had to fuck up.”

“Jesus Christ.” Drea didn't know what else to say. She did know that was enough money for her to need to worry for Sarah and the kids safety. The interest would be at least fifty percent, calculated weekly and adding up quickly. “Just shut up,” she growled when he went to speak. “I need to think.”

The level of stupid Frankie had achieved was a record, even for him. They both knew he'd only made it this far in life because of who his father was. With Uncle Tony gone, there would be no lingering good will for Frankie. He'd be treated as any other borrower who didn't pay.

Britt returned with the food. She didn't linger. Frankie immediately dug into his burger, eating as if he'd been starving for weeks. Drea picked up her fork only because if she didn't, Frankie would notice and try to read something into it.

If she told Frankie again to go to hell, that she wouldn't let him near the porn business, Sarah and the kids could get caught up in the crossfire. They deserved better than that. Matt needed a swift kick to the ass for getting involved in one of Frankie's bright ideas.

If she gave him access to it, it would once again become a sick and depraved business. Drea wasn't sure she could live with herself if she let that happen.

“There is a ticking clock, Andrea.” Frankie shoved another fry into his mouth.

“I'm well aware of that,” Drea snarled. “I want the number of the guy you deal with for the payments,” she told him. She wanted to hear the details straight from that person, not from Frankie. Trusting that he'd tell the truth about the amount or terms was too much trust.

“Why?”

“Because I'm going to confirm your story. I need all the facts to make my decision.” Drea needed to know that Frankie wasn't bullshitting. For all she knew, he was trying to play on her affection for Sarah and the niblets. “Do that and I'll call you when I've made my decision. In the meantime, I don't want to meet like this again.”

Frankie didn't look happy, but he nodded. “Fine. Don't take too long, though, Andrea.”

“Stop calling me Andrea. You don't want to keep pissing me off right now, Frankie.”

“It's just how I think of you. I'll try. I promise.”

Drea knew that she was a fool to take his promise to mean anything. It had no value, just like his word. “I'll call you. Now piss off.” She walked away from him, down the street and to the shop in the same sort of autopilot which had carried her through the meal.

Chapter Two

Monroe stared at the heart-shaped headstone that bore Fiona and Taylor's names, but he didn't feel them there. He never did. He didn't feel either of them anywhere anymore. He'd tried. He wished that he could be one of those people who were sure that their loved ones were happy on the other side. Honestly, he didn't know if there was an other side.

All he knew was that when they were alive, he'd wasted so much time. If he'd just been a man, told Fiona how he felt about the both of them, things might have been changed enough that they wouldn't be gone. Instead, he'd kept his mouth shut, and things had gotten so far out of hand. Monroe picked up the paper bag holding the bottle of whiskey he'd set down on the bench when he arrived.

It was pretty vile; he hadn't been thinking of taste when he'd grabbed it. All he'd wanted was something to take the edge off. Something to make everything he was thinking stop. Even as he took a long swallow, he knew that the whiskey wasn't going to do the trick.

In the months that he'd been with Maggie, he'd thought that it was fate they were together. After all, they'd both lost someone who had meant the word to them. Shared loss should have been a bond between them; instead, it was a fortified brick wall. Try as he might, it couldn't be breached. Monroe realized he was tired of trying, of walking on eggshells and essentially letting her call all of the shots.

He considered them to be together, but the truth of it was that they were actually fuck buddies. They'd spent no nights together, never any time at her place and very little at his. She preferred they go to hotels, part ways when they were through. Still, he'd laid himself bare to her. Spoken of things he'd rather not tell. Maybe he'd said too much, shown too much.

Three days had passed since she'd answered his calls or texts. For a day or so, he'd chalked it up to her being on call, but after the second day without even a text, it was clear something wasn't right. Monroe wasn't stupid; the writing had been on the wall for a while. Her ignoring him was the beginning of the end; she just didn't have the decency to tell him.

He took another long swallow from the bottle, replaced the cap and set the bottle down on the bench. Any more to drink and he wouldn't be fit to ride. He'd need to be able to ride to get to Maggie's. If it was the end, so be it, as long as she said it to his face. It was the least she could do when she knew how he felt about her, even if feeling that way made him a fool.

He pulled out his phone, dialed Maggie's number and listened to it ring once before going to her voicemail. Yeah, she was definitely avoiding him. It definitely pissed him off. Monroe rose to his feet, turned away from the grave and headed to his bike. His steps were steadier than he expected; the buzz of the whiskey seemed to have sharpened his mind instead of dulling it.

The ride to her house didn't take long. Her front yard was full of toys. The kids had been busy. Monroe walked up onto the porch and pressed the doorbell. No one called out to see who was there or came to answer the door, even though there were still lights on inside.

After about five minutes, the door finally opened and Maggie stepped out onto the porch. “I know why you're here, James. It's just not a good time.” She was in her robe, her face clear of makeup and hair back behind her ears. “You should go. I'll call you, I promise.”

Monroe let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, I'm sure that'll be your top priority, Maggie.” He heard someone coming down the stairs, heavy footsteps. Too heavy to be either of her barely teenage boys.

“Maggie, you should come inside,” a male voice called from inside. “It's late.” It took only took Monroe a split-second to recognize it. Kevin Ellers was another doctor at the hospital. Someone Maggie had insisted time and time again was just a friend.

“I should go,” she cleared her throat.

Monroe cut her off before she could say another word. “Is there something that you neglected to mention, Maggie?” His voice came out harsher than he'd expected. She cringed, looked down at the ground guiltily. It was all the answer that he needed for why Kevin Ellers was in her house and why she hadn't returned his calls. He'd known this was the end, but the thought that there was another man in the picture had never crossed his mind.

How had he been so blind?

“I should have said something,” she relented. “I just... it's nothing against you, James. You are such a great guy. It's just that I...”

“Stop, you don't have to do the thing where you try to explain. It's all very clear. You know what, I'm going to go.” Monroe had to turn and walk away because there was nothing else to do. Maggie had made her choice.

She didn't try to stop him. He hadn't expected that she would.

Monroe headed towards home but thought better of it. Instead, he turned and headed towards the clubhouse. He wasn't sure what was going on there, but something would be. Bones and Caesar were living there now, so there would definitely be girls, liquor and there would always be a bed for him.

He was surprised, and a bit disappointed, to find that it was pretty quiet when he arrived. There was no sign of Caesar, and Bones was occupied on a couch in the corner with Chastity and a girl that he didn't recognize. It would seem that the pass-arounds had another recruit. Monroe left Bones to his fun and headed into the kitchen, where he was sure to find icy cold beer. He'd hit the bar for something stronger.

Caroline had obviously been around earlier because there was a tray of oatmeal cookies on the counter and a note that there were meatballs in the fridge and bread in the bread box if any of them were hungry. Monroe grabbed a cookie, bit into it and grabbed a beer. Oatmeal raisin and beer weren't a really tasty combination, but he finished the cookie anyway.

The kitchen door swung open behind him. “Hey there, handsome. What's going on?” Claire purred the words.

Monroe turned to face her. He wasn't sure where she'd come from, she hadn't been in the front room. She had, however, dressed to impress, as always. Tonight she had on a dark green dress that was mostly just holes and strategically placed straps of fabric. “Just grabbing a beer.”

“That sounds good, I think that I'll have one myself.” Her heels clicked against the floor as she sashayed her way towards the fridge. Monroe watched in amusement as she made a show of bending over and letting him know for sure that she wasn't wearing any panties beneath the dress. “Is beer is the only thing that you're thinking about grabbing?”

Monroe felt his cock twitch to life. “You got something in mind, Claire?”

“You look like you could use a massage, a nice full body massage.” She grabbed two beers, rose to her feet and turned to face him.

“That does sound good,” Monroe admitted.

“Give me five minutes, I'll grab a room and get ready for you.” Claire handed him one of the beers and headed out of the kitchen. She was the most accommodating of the pass-arounds, probably because she'd been around the longest. Tonight, she was just what he needed to get his mind off of Maggie and the not so distant past.

<#<#<#<#

Monroe had spent the better part of the week at the clubhouse, lost in the bottom of countless bottles. Tonight, it was Caesar's birthday; there would be more drinking, more debauchery. Already there were people downstairs, prepping and pre-gaming for what was bound to be a wild night. The mere thought of it made Monroe realize just how tired he was.

“Alright, I know that we want to get downstairs so that we can properly celebrate Caesar, but first we've got business.” Buster was at the head of the table. “I heard from Anzaldi earlier. He needs us for something tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? That's pretty short notice.” Train frowned. “We've got something scheduled with him in two days. He can't wait until then?”

“No. He can't. And in return, he's let us know that he's heard rumors of a new player in town. Frankie Gagliardi.” Buster held up his hand to stop the barrage of questions. “Ace and Bones, find out everything that you can about him.”

“He's Drea's cousin,” Monroe spoke up. “It was in the information that we got on her. His father is the one who had custody of her after her grandmother died.”

“Anzaldi says he's also hearing rumors that the porn business is about to come back into play. His guess, and mine, is that's why we've got a new Gagliardi here.”

“Wait a second, the porn business technically belongs to Drea.” Ace tapped his fingers against the table. “Gagliardi died without a will. She's his only acknowledged heir, so she got it all.”

“The fucking lingerie girl is going to become a porn queen,” Buster let out a chuckle that had nothing to do with humor.

“And once again, she's just going about her business like we don't exist,” Train grumbled. “Seems to me that the decent thing to do would have been to give us a heads-up.”

“I don't disagree,” Buster nodded. “Right now, all we've got is the arrival of her cousin and a rumor. I think we need to have a talk with her, find out what's going on. Everything is running smooth for us right now, let's do what we can to keep it that way.”

“And if we can't?” Ace asked.

“We deal with it, whatever it takes,” Buster replied. “The next order of business is prospects.” Monroe knew that no one felt very enthusiastic about bringing in new faces. They'd had too many issues with prospects, they couldn't go down that road again. “I've got a couple of names I'd like to float by you. They're both construction guys, Shawn and Justin.”

Monroe recognized both names. Shawn was a huge, burly guy with tattoos up and down his arms. He worked hard, he was also an ex-convict who had just drifted into town about six months prior. Justin was the more surprising of the two choices. He was young, not even twenty-five and pretty quiet. He didn't know either of them well.

“Don't all speak at once,” Buster said dryly. “I know that they're not obvious choices but there are no obvious choices right now. And let's be honest, our obvious choices haven't been working out very well. The last prospect we had who was able to prove himself was our last long shot. No offense, Bones.”

“None taken,” Bones said with a grin. “You know what, I'm good with both choices. And since you can't sponsor both, I'll sponsor Justin. We've talked a few times, he's a good kid.”

“We got to be extra hard on them, make sure that they show us what they're made of,” Train pointed out.

“If they even want to take the leather,” Manuel added. “Far as I know, neither of them have expressed any sort of interest in joining up. They put their hours in and go home most days.”

“I think it's a plus that they're not here all fucking eager, all the time. That shit gets annoying, fast,” Caesar replied.

“If we're all in agreement, I'd like to bring this to them for the next meeting. Any objections?” Buster looked around the room.

No one objected, which didn't surprise Monroe. Nightshade needed the numbers, needed to stay strong. He could see the benefit in both men. Shawn was as big as they came, broad-shouldered and strong. Justin was quiet, more of an observer than a talker. Monroe wondered if either of them would even want to put on the cut, put in the work. If they didn't, they'd need to find others who did, because realistically, they did need the numbers if they wanted to expand the business. Money had never been better for them. He knew that he'd put away more in the past six months than he'd managed in the last six years.

Finally, the meeting was called to an end. They descended  the stairs and found the party ready to go. In moments, the music played and drinks flowed. Monroe toasted to Caesar and watched as two women he'd never seen before got up on a table and started to dance.

They were pretty limber, and pretty pretty, but looked more like they should be wearing sweater sets and sipping some sort of skinny, half-caf something or other drink, not shaking their asses on a rickety table in the middle of the clubhouse.

“Do you like them?” Claire spoke from behind him. She laid a hand on his arm, leaned in. “I found them in my yoga class,” she whispered.

“Found them?”

“I know that you guys need a little fresh meat now and then. I do what I can to help.” She pressed her tits against his arm. “You're looking a little stressed. Need a hand with anything?”

“I'm good,” he replied. For a split second, Claire's expression shifted to something else. Monroe knew right then that it had been a mistake to favor her the past few days. She was reading something into it. Fuck.

“Yo, Monroe!” Einstein called out from the other side of the room. “Come over here a second.”

Monroe walked away from Claire without a word. He felt a little bit like an ass for doing so, but anything else would encourage her. “Thanks for the out, brother,” he said.

“Any time. I'm telling you, one day that one is going to boil someone's bunny. Mark my words. You see those two over there?” He motioned to the women who were now making out on the table. “I love my life.”

Monroe chuckled. “We've certainly got it good. You can thank Claire for those two, she recruited them from her yoga class.”

“So, they're flexible? Damn, this night just keeps getting better and better. I call dibs on the bendy blonde.”

“She's all you,” Monroe answered. “I'm going to go and grab another drink.”

“I'm going to grab something too,” Einstein let out a laugh as he started towards the table where the two women were. Monroe saw that Caesar had beat him there. For a second, he wondered if there was going to be a problem, but then he realized that there were two girls. The guys would figure it out.