Head Above Water (Nightshade MC Book 4) (8 page)

“It's not about the money for me; you know that.” Drea heard the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. Footsteps followed. She knew when Monroe hit the bottom stair because Frankie grinned. “Bring me those papers; we'll talk more later.”

“I'll be back when I can.”

“By noon, Frankie.” Drea turned to face Monroe. “Hey.”

“Morning,” he replied. “I wondered where you snuck off to.”

“Frankie came over to be a pain in my ass,” Drea told him. “And now he's leaving.” She stared at Frankie, gun still in hand, until he turned and walked towards the door. She followed him, locked up and set the alarm. “Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he replied. “Isn't that my shirt?”

“Oh, yeah. It was the first thing that I could grab. Sorry.”

“Stop with the sorry. Why don't you come over here and say good morning to me properly?”

“Properly?” Drea moved over to him.

“You know, with a kiss,” he prompted.

Drea felt a little silly doing so but she stretched up and kissed him lightly. “Were you looking for your shirt because you want it back?”

“If you want to take it off, I won't complain.” He settled his hands on her hips. “How are you feeling?”

“Hung over,” she said honestly.

“Me too,” he admitted. “I was thinking that I need some juice and some food.”

“I could make you something,” Drea offered. “If you're not in any rush.”

“I've got nowhere to be. What about you? Do you have to open the store?”

“Frankie said the power is still out,” Drea sighed. Another day of no income from Love and Lace. “So, looks like I've got nowhere to be either.”

“That's fortunate.” He leaned in and gave her a kiss. “I can make breakfast if you want.”

“You cook?”

“I won't burn your house down, I promise.”

“Alright. You can cook. I'll make the coffee. Do you like coffee?”

“Love it,” he replied.

Drea wasn't sure why he was still there. If he was just being polite, he was going above and beyond the call of duty. “I think I've got orange juice, maybe pineapple.” It had been too long since she'd been to the store, but it was so easy to dial in take out. “I'm not sure what there is to cook. I haven't been shopping.”

“Don't worry. I'm resourceful.” He squeezed her sides.

Together they went into the kitchen. As far as breakfast items went, Drea realized that she was rather well stocked, but Monroe ignored the frozen waffles and pancakes and started looking through cabinets. He found what he was looking for: a box of pancake batter. “Where's your utensils and stuff?”

“I'l show you. I can help if you'd like.”

“No, I've got this. You just make the coffee.”

Drea took him at his word and pointed out what he'd need to make the pancakes. She started the coffee, got the juices she did have in the fridge. She took out plates and glasses, set the small table and sat down to watch him. It was a good view. He had on jeans, no shirt and was barefoot. She expected him to be awkward in the kitchen, he just didn't seem like the cooking type, but instead, he seemed to be at ease. In just a few minutes, the smell of pancakes filled the kitchen. Monroe delved into the fridge, found some bacon and grabbed another frying pan. “We'll be good to go as soon as the bacon is done.”

“Smells really good. Do you want orange or pineapple juice?”

“Surprise me,” he replied. “I'll take some of that coffee if you don't mind.”

Drea was glad for something to do because just sitting there, watching him, she could feel herself getting used to him being around. She knew better than that. “Sure, how do you take it?”

“Black.”

“Gross,” she replied.

“Let me guess, you take tons of cream and sugar.”

“No. Two sugar substitutes and cream.”

“Sugar substitute?” He crinkled his nose in distaste.

“I like the way it tastes,” Drea protested. “Really, I do.”

“Freak,” he replied without missing a beat. “Are you like an anti-sugar person?”

“No, not really. My uncle used to use it instead of sugar, guess I not only got used to it but started to like it.”

“The two of you were close,” he observed.

“Yes, we were.” Drea cursed herself for mentioning Tony at all. “He was a good man. He treated me very very well.”

“Good,” he said simply. Drea waited for him to say something else, to ask one of the many questions he had to have, but he didn't. “Get ready for the best pancakes you've ever had.”

Drea had just forked the first bite into her mouth when Monroe's phone rang. He answered it; she'd had the feeling he would. After a brief conversation, he slid the phone back in his pocket. “You've got to go?” She laid her fork down on the side of her plate.

“Yeah, I do,” he admitted. “I hate to not eat and run, but it's a club thing.”

“Guess that means that you're going to need your shirt back.” Drea got to her feet. She'd known that this morning would have to end. The feelings from earlier surfaced again. “I think I've got a robe in the bathroom down here. I'll grab it. You're probably going to need your boots, too.”

“Good point.” He smiled at her. “I really wanted to have breakfast with you.”

“Me too,” she answered.

“Why don't you come upstairs with me and I'll take my shirt off of you.” Monroe held out his hand to her. Drea took his hand. Warmth spread through her as their skin touched. He pulled her close, covered her mouth with his. The kiss turned the warmth into a fire; she'd have done him right there if he hadn't pulled back. “I want to see you later.”

“You mean you want to finish this later?” Drea asked.

“I mean, I want to see you later. I'd like to finish this, but that's not the only reason. I'm not sure how long this is going to take, but I'll call you later, maybe we can go and eat? Or maybe we can just go for a ride. But right now, we've got to move it. Come on, hon.”

<#<#<#<#

Frankie showed up with the contract and lease before noon. She'd texted him to bring them to the house. When he'd left them in the mailbox, she knew that she really wasn't going to like whatever was inside of them.

Breakfast and a couple of pain killers had killed the hangover headache, but a migraine was rolling in fast. There was pressure between her eyes and a stabbing sensation in her temples. It was stress-triggered, didn't take a doctor's visit to figure that out.

The lease for the new space seemed to be on the level. It was Kelly Love's contract which concerned her. It was for a hundred movies, not the fifty they'd previously discussed, at a rate of two thousand dollars per film. Drea continued to read, realized that the contract also indicated that she was to be paid the entire sum up front. “Fucking idiot,” Drea swore.

She didn't know if she was talking about Frankie or talking about herself for trusting him not to screw her over. The stabbing sensation in her head got worse and she had to look away from the tiny print. There had to be a way to cut Frankie off. She'd still pay the debt because she'd have no choice in the matter. And she needed to figure out a way to get Kelly Love to agree to a reduced contract. All the logistics of running the company flooded her mind. At least she knew the ropes from Love and Lace. It was going to consume all of her time and energy to run both places.

Drea felt exhausted just thinking about it. All she'd wanted from Detroit was peace and quiet. A little life in a town on the rebound. She should have known that it was too much to expect; after all, this was her life.

Before she'd decided how or what she was going to do with Frankie, there was a knock on the door. A glance through the peephole showed it was Frankie with Matt right at his side. Both men were smiling smug smiles, the sort of smile that said they'd gotten away with something or over on someone. In that instant, Drea knew that they thought that they'd gotten over on her. She didn't know if it was the porn star contract, the lease or something else entirely, but she knew that she needed to find out.

Her first instinct was to go with making them talk; she knew plenty of ways to make them spill every secret they'd ever known. Honestly, it probably would only take threats; neither one of them was half as tough as they liked to think. Terrifying them might be satisfying at the moment, but in the long run it wouldn't be a smart thing. Drea knew that she was smarter than both of them, so she'd use that to her advantage. She'd let them think that they were getting over on her.

Drea opened the door with a scowl firmly on her face. “What now?”

Frankie took a step forward without answering the question. Drea didn't budge. “Come on now, don't be like that. Let us in. We need to talk.”

“And why can't we talk right here?” Drea questioned. The idea of playing along, letting them think they were getting over on her, left her mind as quickly as it had come. She didn't want to play along; she wanted them out of her life and her business.

“You really want to talk business where anyone could hear?” Frankie edged even closer to her.

Reluctantly, Drea stepped back and let them in. It gave her the first real good look at Matt. He'd always been a bigger guy but it looked like he'd lost a great deal of weight. “Have you called Sarah?” she demanded. In response, he shrugged. It pissed her off more than anything that could have come out of his mouth. Before she really realized what she was doing, Drea's fist was clenched and in the air. It connected soundly with Matt's stupid face.

“Jesus Christ! What is wrong with you?” Frankie demanded as he moved between the two of them.

“He deserves worse and we both know it,” Drea replied coldly. “Be grateful you weren't on the receiving end, this time.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Frankie said, obviously offended.

“It means that you went behind my back, Frankie. It means that you made decisions you weren't authorized to make.”

“I told you already, they're the right decisions. We need to get the ball rolling!  They were the right decisions,” he protested. “And we're going to make so much money, what we pay Kelly isn't even going to be a drop in the bucket.”

“I'm not doing this for the money. The only reason I agreed to this was because I didn't want anything to happen to Sarah or the kids!” Drea turned towards Matt. “You got them tangled up in this shit and you walked away from them.”

“I had my reasons,” Matt finally spoke.

“That's bullshit.”

“Hey, Sarah isn't a dream to live with. Trust me,” he told her.

“Trust you? No. I don't trust you. However, the reality is that I have to deal with you, both of you,” Drea answered. “From here on out, I'm taking a more active role in the business.”

“Why?” Frankie protested. “You said that...”

“Things change,” Drea cut him off before he could say anything else. “I'm not arguing over this. It is what it is. Consider yourself a figurehead, Frankie. Your job is to smile and nod. The shots are all called by me. Are we clear?”

“You're being a real bitch. You know that right?” Spittle flew from Frankie's mouth as he spoke. Drea prepared herself for him to lunge at her, but she stood her ground.

“I'm just getting started,” Drea replied. “It's time for the two of you to go. I've got a lot of work to do.”

“Fine.” He stepped back.

The moment that they were out the door, she moved forward and locked it. She changed the alarm system code, set it and called the company to schedule additional measures, cameras and a more sensitive system. There were so many things that she needed to do, that she should do, but instead, Drea headed upstairs to her bedroom.

The sheets and comforter were still rumpled from the night before; she should probably have taken a shower, but she didn't have the energy. It was all she could do to strip off her clothes and crawl beneath the sheets that still smelled very much like Monroe. Memories from the night before came back in a rush; it had been unlike anything she'd experienced, ever.

Her last relationship had ended five years before. Derek had been handsome, charming, with a great hair and a dazzling smile. He'd pursued her. She'd resisted. They'd danced a dance and fallen into an easy rhythm. She'd been happy, so she'd turned a blind eye to the lies he'd told, pretended that everything was fine, even when he was so fucked up she couldn't get him off the floor. When he lost his job, she'd stood by him. She'd covered his debts and his bills, even taking loans from Uncle Tony. All the while, he'd had someone else. One day, Drea had come home to an empty apartment. Derek had simply moved out. Turned out that he'd moved in with his new wife along with all of her electronics and five hundred dollars she'd kept stashed for emergencies.

Drea shut her eyes against the thoughts, pressed her face into the pillow Monroe had used. Everything inside of her welled into tears she didn't try to control. Alone in the dark, there was no shame in crying.

Chapter Six

The reason that Monroe had been summoned from Drea's bed was Ricardo.

The man had shown up at the clubhouse, uninvited, turned over a video from a security camera across the street from Anzaldi's office to show that they were telling the truth about the robbery. He'd also given a partial payment on the last delivery, a show of good faith.

The image on the tape was grainy, even with enhancement by Bones and Ace, they never got a good look at the faces. Still, they'd watched it at least a dozen times. “Wait a second, rewind that.” Caesar leaned in. “Slow it down from right before they go in the door.”

Ace did as he asked. “What do you see?”

“That's a chick,” Caesar called out. “Pause. Pause and look! That's a chick. Look at the way she walks, look at her ass. That is not a guy.”

Monroe focused on the screen again. It was possible one was a woman. It was possible that they were all women. Hell, it was possible they were green-skinned aliens under the masks. The video wouldn't tell them. They were flying blind, blinder than usual. “Does it really matter? Woman or man, we still don't know shit except what Ricardo is telling us. Anzaldi hasn't even picked up the phone. For all we know he's dead and his people are trying to cover it up.”

His words were met with a silence that he hadn't expected. “Ricardo is supposed to reach out to us tomorrow about the rest of the payment. I'll let him know we need face time with Anzaldi. In the meantime, why don't we see if we can't get a little outside verification on the robbery. There's got to be other cameras in the area. Let's see if we can get our hands on the tapes,” Buster suggested, breaking the silence.

“On it,” Bones replied.

“Monroe, have you reached out to your friends still on the force?” Buster asked.

“I reached out. I'm waiting to hear.” Monroe replied. He had expected he would have already heard back. Lately his sources were taking longer and longer to get back to him, if they bothered to at all. He'd accumulated a lot of favors over his years on the force; maybe he'd finally used them all up.

“Let us know when you do.”

“I've got something unrelated to the robbery,” Ace spoke up. “Frankie Gagliardi is back in Detroit, again.”

“Speaking of Frankie,” Monroe cleared his throat. “I had the pleasure of meeting him in person.” All eyes turned to his. “He was at Drea's. He's a tool.”

“Wait, Drea? You're banging Drea?” Caesar asked.

“I'm seeing Drea,” Monroe corrected. “And that's not the point. The point is, Frankie's a tool. There's some tension between the two of them. I don't know what.”

“Find out,” Buster said, breaking the silence that had settled on the room. His expression was serious. “How long have the two of you been seeing each other?”

“Not long,” Monroe answered.

“Does she talk to you? About business or personal stuff?” Buster leaned forward, an interested gleam in his eye.

“Not really about business,” Monroe replied, leaving the part about her personal life to their imagination.

“Do you think she would?”

“Why?” Monroe asked the question even though he had a good idea what the answer was.

“We need to know about her business, that she's telling us the truth and it's not the business that her father ran. You're our best way to do that,” Buster told him.

“I can think of worse ways to take one for the team,” Train said with a laugh. The others joined in.

The laughter grated on Monroe's nerves, but he kept his face expressionless. “I'll see what I can do,” he said because it was all that he could say. Nightshade was everything to him; he couldn't refuse to do something that would help them, no matter what he felt for Drea.

“Good.” Buster nodded as if it were settled. “I think it's time that we get back to work. We've spent enough time staring at this video.”

The meeting ended, and everyone rose. Monroe rose with them, walked out of the room and down the stairs. It was a quiet day at the clubhouse but Claire was there. Claire seemed to always be there no matter what time of day or night it was, even though he knew that she worked.

“Hey, Monroe,” she purred as she walked over to him. “You look like you could use a little stress relief.”

“I'm good, Claire.” He took a step back when she moved closer, but she didn't take the hint, instead she moved with him.

“You sure about that? I can see how tense you are,” she purred.

“Positive,” Monroe replied.

“Fine,” she huffed. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.” She strolled away as if she didn't have a care in the world, but Monroe knew she was pissed; it had been obvious in her eyes before she controlled her expression.

“She's as crazy as a bag of cats,” Caesar spoke from behind him.

“A bag of cats?”

“That's a whole lot of fucking crazy. Trust me, never put a cat in a bag.” Caesar shook his head. “Anyway, I was just about to take a ride and talk to this guy I know to see if he's got anything on the robberies. Want to take a ride?”

It turned out that Caesar's guy was a hipster named Max who lived on a block that was otherwise empty. He'd turned most of his yard, and the abandoned neighboring front lawns, into a garden with at least a dozen different vegetables. Monroe was impressed since he couldn't manage to keep the one tomato plant Caroline had given him alive.

Max seemed to be stoned, mellow stoned, when he opened the door. He was maybe in his thirties with a long beard, gauges in his ears and a wide smile. “I wasn't expecting you, Caesar. The place is a mess. Ignore it.”

“Can't be worse than my place,” Caesar said with a laugh. “This is Monroe. Monroe, Max. Need to ask you a couple of questions. You got a minute?”

Monroe followed Caesar through the door. As advertised, the place was a mess, but he'd seen worse. There was something familiar about Max, probably a run-in during his police days. He hoped that it wouldn't be an issue.

“Sure, sit. You want something to drink?”

“Sure, riding is thirsty work. You got beer?”

“Do I have beer?” Max managed to look offended. “Of course I've got beer. I'll grab a few, be back in a flash. Go on, take a load off.”

Caesar sat down on one of the plaid sofas as the man left the room. “Don't worry about Max, he's a cool guy.

Monroe sat as well. “Tell me, how do you know him?”

“Max moved here about five years ago. Back then, The Street Kings had a house up the block. We used it for various things. For a while, some of the girls that worked for us lived there. He used to bring them over stuff, locally-sourced honey, vegetables from his garden or whatever. One night, an over-eager john followed one girl back, jumped her in the front yard. Max beat the shit out of the guy with a stake from his garden.”

“He didn't want to go to the cops?”

“Turns out, he's wanted for some cyber crime shit. Making ATMs spit out money or something like that. We cleaned up the mess. He continued to keep an eye on the girls.”

“He even married one,” a female voice interrupted. Monroe looked behind them to what appeared to be a kitchen doorway. The woman who stood there was a pretty, petite blonde who was obviously very pregnant. “It's good to see you, Caesar and hello, Caesar's friend.”

“Hey, Jenny. This is Monroe.” Caesar said, and hearing the name triggered something in Monroe's mind. He realized that he'd arrested Jenny for prostitution a few times, including one time when he was undercover.

“He's a cop,” Jenny said. “You brought a cop to our house, Caesar? What kind of shit is that?”

“Calm your tits,” Caesar advised her. “He's not a cop anymore. He's Nightshade, just like me.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled, averting her eyes.

“Why don't you head upstairs, Jenny?” Max came out of the kitchen with three beers in hand. “You look like you could use a nap.”

“Yeah, I can always use a nap.” She walked through the living room without so much as a glance towards the couch.

Jenny wasn't the first person he'd arrested that he'd run into since he'd switched from enforcing the law to outlaw, and she likely wouldn't be the last. Monroe recalled several memorable occasions when he'd thought that he was done for; only, his brothers had his back.

“Alright, let me guess. You're here about the guys squatting on the next block,” Max said as he handed out the beer. He sat down. “I was going to call you, but they've been gone for a couple days.”

“Why do you think we're here about them?”

“They weren't from here. The accents screamed East Coast to me, Jersey or New York if I had to guess. They rigged the lights somehow, but the windows were covered. The vibe was off, you know what I mean?”

Monroe knew what it was. It meant that Max's gut had told him the guys were up to something. “How long were they there?”

“Couple of weeks,” Max answered.

“What'd they look like?” Caesar asked.

“White guys. Always wearing hats or hoodies. I can't say I ever got a good look at their faces, but I can ask around. Can't promise anything.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not sure that anyone else paid attention.”

“I wouldn't want you to,” Caesar assured him. “You think that you could show us the house that they were staying in?”

“Yeah, I could do that. No problem.” Max glanced towards the stairs, lowered his voice. “Sorry about Jenny. She's a walking hormone bomb, just waiting to explode. Last week, she damn near cut my nuts off for saying that some woman on TV was hot.”

“No worries,” Monroe said quickly. “Happens more often than you think.”

“I bet it does.” Max shook his head. “You must have balls the size of Texas to switch sides like that.” Monroe didn't reply. “We can walk over there.”

During the walk, Monroe realized that there were other gardens like the one Max had scattered through the neighborhood. He also noticed several small fruit trees growing in others. It didn't take long to get to the house which was relatively well kept, but clearly no one actually lived there. Abandoned houses had a sort of sadness about them. Monroe realized exactly what Drea had meant when she said that there was beauty all over the city. Maybe one day, he'd bring her over to check out the neighborhood, see the gardens and fruit tress. He was pretty sure that she would like it.

The thoughts that he'd been pushing down since the meeting flooded to the surface. He'd felt disloyal to Drea for agreeing to give Nightshade any business information, disloyal to a woman  he barely knew, a woman who would likely shatter what was left of his heart before it was all over, but he'd still felt it. There had also been a sharp pang of resentment that he could even be asked to put himself in that situation.

“Yo, Monroe, are you even listening?” Caesar's voice broke him out of the place he'd gone in his mind.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He cleared his throat.

“You ready to go in and see what we can find or what?”

“Yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this.” Monroe prepared himself for the trouble that they might find inside.

Inside the house was nearly as bleak as the outside. There were clear signs it had recently been occupied, apparently by total slobs. There was trash everywhere, mostly leftover food and half-empty bottles of soda. Most of the remnants were from fast food, too generic to get them any closer to the occupants' identities. “I've got something. This is from Gino's. There's a receipt.” Caesar crouched down and picked up a brown paper bag. “Paid for in cash, but the order is pretty specific. Salami sub, light oil and vinegar, double tomatoes and parmesan cheese. Cheesesteak with chicken fingers and french fries on it. Might be something that they remember.”

“It's something. You know how crazy it gets there. Hell, we were there this night,” Monroe said as he checked the date. “We probably walked right past them.”

“You want to head to Gino's or should I?”

“You go on ahead. I'll stay here and see if I can find anything else,” Monroe offered. “Let me know what you find, and I'll let you know if I find anything.”

“Deal, I think that you got the short end of the stick, though. Serves you right, since you get to hit it with Drea,” Caesar's tone carried a hint of something, maybe jealousy. “She's a cool chick. I like her.”

An alarm bell sounded in Monroe's mind. Caesar was a frequent customer in the back room of Love and Lace; it was also no secret that he wanted to use some of his purchases with Drea. “You gonna have a problem with me seeing her?” It was best to ask the question, get it out in the open.

“You're not stepping on my toes. I made my play, she wasn't feeling it. Never thought that you were feeling her, though. That's a surprise.”

“Like you said, she's a cool chick.”

“And don't forget, hot as fuck!” Caesar grinned from ear to ear. “Wait, does she wear stuff from the shop? Please, tell me she does.”

“No way in hell I'm telling you that,” Monroe said with a laugh.

“It's all good because no matter what your answer was, in my mind, she does. Alright, I'm actually going. You coming to hang out tonight?”

“I'm not sure. I'll let you know,” Monroe replied.