Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 (33 page)

en another. Yeah, I’d had a lot

on my mind recently, but why hadn’t I connected the dots 379

when I’d seen the Colhoff boys in here last week? Maria Dove’s remains had been discovered on June Colhoff Everett’s land. Jeff and Willie were both married. And they’d argued with Lang on what to do about the bones.

Who had they been trying to protect? Each other?

Or someone else? Th

e implications made my head

hurt. I’d have to talk to Jeff , but I couldn’t stomach another confrontation tonight when I still had one to get through.

Speaking of . . . I looked up as Martinez and company—the Trifecta of Terror, Big Mike, No-neck and Buzz—blew in.

My heart pounded in synchronicity with the sultry salsa beat as he sauntered across the room toward me like I was the only one in the universe. I wondered if I’d ever get used to him looking at me like that.

Martinez didn’t lay a big, long, wet kiss on me, but he off ered me a devastating smile, which was good enough.

“I hoped to catch you. Hold on for a minute? We’ve gotta do a security check.”

Martinez motioned No-neck, Big Mike, and Buzz to go ahead. He placed his hand in the small of my back and guided me through the swinging doors.

“So, you hungry, blondie? Wanna get something to eat when I’m done here?”

“Together? In public?”

380

“As opposed to separately in private? Yeah.”

“Okay. But speaking of, there are a couple of things I need to talk to you about fi rst. In private.”

Martinez’ teasing mood fl ed. He said, “Hey, Mike,”

and Big Mike rematerialized immediately.

Talk about being at the bossman’s beck and call.

“Yeah?” Big Mike said.

“We’ll be upstairs.”

“You want Cal to stick around here?”

“For a little while.”

While he locked and unlocked a billion doors, I searched for professional distance.

Th

e soundproofi ng in the suite above Bare Assets equaled that inside the bowels of Fat Bob’s. Th e space

was laid out apartment style: a small kitchenette abutted a decent sized bathroom, which connected to the bedroom. Th

e walls, the carpet, the furniture, everything was bachelor bland. Th

e only décor I remembered from

the bedroom was the bed. Big, soft, and sturdy.

I fl opped on the velvet sectional while Martinez rummaged in the cabinets in the kitchen. I couldn’t even gaze out the living room windows at the lights of Rapid City, as the windows were completely blacked out.

Martinez returned with a bottle of Parrot Bay rum.

He sat across from me and fi lled the shot glasses, passed me one and chinked his glass to mine.

381

Th

e sweet aftertaste was worth the initial sting. I licked my lips and jiggled my glass for more. After the second blast, I recited the scant facts on the Maria Dove case.

He shrugged. “Employees come and go. I don’t remember her.”

“It doesn’t matter; it’s not actually her I’m interested in. It’s the guy she was seeing. An Hombres pledge.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Th

at’s what I’m hoping you’ll tell me.”

His protective shields dropped and my lover morphed into the hard, tough, biker badass everyone else saw.

“I know Crystal told you I convinced her to let me look at Maria’s employment fi le. I know Jackal suspects I’m some kind of spy for whoever the hell he thinks I’m spying for. And just when you’ve decided I’m trustwor-thy, here I am, asking you about confi dential Hombres club shit.”

Martinez’ unyielding stare continued.

“So, I’ll phrase it as . . . vaguely as I can. Suppose a guy was a pledge, say, fi ve and a half years ago. Say he hadn’t passed the initiation and was still working security at Bare Assets. Let’s also assume he never made it to the Hombres patched-in status as a full-fl edged member.

Would there be a record of him someplace?”

No answer.

Crap. I snagged the rum and helped myself to two 382

more shots. When I reached for additional courage, he curled his hand over mine and took the bottle for himself.

“Yes, there are records. Th

at doesn’t mean shit be-

cause I can’t tell you anything.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Even if I knew every single fucking name of every pledge, which I don’t, we’ve got some high profi le members on the list, and there’s a serious trust factor I won’t breach. And yes, those records include guys who’ve washed out for some reason or another. We keep tabs on the dropouts, purely a business decision, to make sure they’re not out causing problems, bragging about being an Hombres member when they’re not.”

Martinez had matched me shot for shot, then upped the ante with two more.

From past experience I knew he could guzzle the whole damn bottle and still act totally sober.

He handed the rum back to me. “You said there were a couple of things you needed to tell me. What else?”

“I thought I’d give you a head’s up that Trina, the airhead blond cocktail waitress who’s always stuck in the back section? Not only does she come to work high, she’s selling drugs or something on the fl oor during the show.”

Th

is time I didn’t bother to use a glass; I swigged straight from the bottle.

As usual, he waited for me to elaborate.

383

“So, I’ve had to ask myself. Is she running her own scam? Or is she running yours?”

Martinez’ shark-like smile appeared. “Why didn’t you call the cops and let them sort it out?”

“Because busting your cocktail waitress for intent to distribute wasn’t part of the deal. I did the favor you asked.

But I’d be remiss in my duties as a professional investigator if I didn’t share my incredible powers of observation with you.” I batted my eyelashes. Smiled cheekily.

He let the pause linger.

My inner tough girl said
fuck it
and lashed out.

“Know what I don’t get, Martinez? Why you hired me to tell you something you already knew.” I swallowed another mouthful of truth serum. “Regardless of what Jackal says, you don’t let things slide. You aren’t dumb.

Only two people could’ve taken the money. Crystal or Dave. And we both know Crystal never was suspected.

So what was I really doing there?”

A tiny muscle under his left eye twitched. “You aren’t dumb either. Don’t you think
I
know how goddamn good your powers of observation are?”

“Yes. So I didn’t have to prove anything to you.”

Th

orny silence.

Th

e truth smacked me hard. I might not have to prove anything to Martinez, but I did have to prove my trustworthiness to Jackal.

384

Fuck. I’d been played.

I sailed to my feet. “You sent me to Bare Assets so I could catch
Trina
doing her shit.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It was a test.”

“A test?” I aped. “Why would
I
need a
test
?”

“To see if all of a sudden Bare Assets was besieged by cops after you saw drug deals going down in my club.”

Th

e booze and the fury mixed into a toxic cocktail and I spewed venom. “You bastard. Not only don’t you trust me, you used me.”

“You’re a fi ne one to talk about trust.”

My mouth fell open.

“Sit down.”

“No. I can’t believe—”

“I said: Sit. Down.”

“I am not a fucking dog, Martinez.”

Irritation fl ared in his eyes. “Losing my patience with you, blondie.”

“
You’re
losing patience with
me
?” I was so incensed I grabbed the rum bottle and whizzed it at the wall behind his head. Stupid thing didn’t make a very loud crash as it shattered and Martinez didn’t even blink.

Coolly, he said, “You done?”

“No. Yes.” I had to get out of there. I stalked to 385

the door, my fl ight instinct in full gear. Nothing clicked as I twisted the surplus of locks. I resisted the urge to throw a complete temper tantrum and beat my fi sts into the steel.

“Give it up. You won’t get out unless I let you out.”

“Great.” I pressed my forehead to the cool metal door and willed my world to quit spinning for about the millionth time in the last week.

Th

e couch squeaked. His quiet footsteps grew louder and stopped right behind me.

“Unlock the goddamn door, Martinez.”

“No.”

He’d shifted close enough I felt his body heat. “Don’t touch me.”

Martinez sighed.

“God. I don’t believe we’re going through this again.”

“Will you let me explain?”

“Explain what? Why you used me in your little Hombres political games?”

“You think I had a choice?”

Yes
.

“I told you the shit I’m up against. It wasn’t my idea, okay? Jackal wanted to prove that if you saw drugs fl oating around you’d go running to the cops.”

“I didn’t. I wouldn’t have. Not without talking to you fi rst. You should know that.”
Breathe
.
In
.
Out
.

386

“I did. I do.”

“Th

en why did you listen to him?”

“Because I wanted to ram it in that devious fucker’s face that he was wrong about you. Jackal doesn’t know a thing about loyalty. And it sucks I had to use you to prove what loyalty is. Christ. I’m not perfect, Julie. And I sure as shit haven’t had my head on straight about club business since Harvey shot himself . . .” His voice wavered.

Don’t cry, don’t break down, don’t even fucking bend.

Martinez said, “I had no idea how much I relied on him until he wasn’t there.”

I hated he was still hurting. I hated my anger was waning.

“And Trina? What was her part?”

“She didn’t have a clue what was going down. She just does what she’s told.”

My mind fl ashed to my conversation with Trina about Mistress Dominique’s tattoo. No wonder Trina knew what the tattoo meant; she had one. “Because the Hombres own her.” Jesus. I felt stupid just using the word
own
.

“Yes.”

“And if the cops would’ve come calling, she was the fall guy? You would’ve disavowed any knowledge of her sideline and let her go to jail?”

No answer.

387

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

An eternity passed as we stayed silent, separate, angry.

I released a slow breath.

He said, “Talk to me.”

“Are we ever going to fi gure this out?” If I had to clarify “this” we were in even bigger trouble than I feared.

“We already are.” Martinez latched onto my hips and rubbed his face in my hair. “I wish I could say I made a mistake. But the truth is, even if I had a chance to do it over again, I’d probably handle it exactly the same way.”

I bit my tongue against a smart ass response.

“I’ve got a couple of bottles of tequila and whiskey if you want to hurl some more shit at me,” he off ered.

“I’m not sorry. You deserved it.”

“Probably. I’m glad it wasn’t the good stuff .”

He gently turned me around, probably expecting me to melt into his arms.

Man, was he surprised by my hard ass expression.

“What?”

“Here’s the deal. I’ll forget all about your lack of trust, the shitty hours I worked for
free
in your titty bar, being lied to and used and tested . . . if you do one thing for me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Give you the names of the pledges.”

388

“Yep. And it’s a nonnegotiable point, Martinez.”

He leveled that gut-wrenching stare at me, expecting me to crack. And for once I didn’t. I gave him a haughty stare right back.

“Fine. I’ll have to talk to some people, but I’ll get you those names. In the next day or so, okay?”

I resisted doing a victory lap around the room.

“Th

ank you.”

Martinez smoothed my hair from my face. “We done now?” He bent forward and kissed the hollow of my throat.

His breath was a warm, sweet promise of seduction.

“Stop pawing me. Didn’t you say something about food?”

“After.”

“After what?”

“After I have dessert.” His teeth sank into the arc of my neck. Th

en he soothed the love bite with a fl ick of his tongue.

My knees dipped and it wasn’t from too much rum.

“Are you trying to distract me with sex?”

“Mmm hmm.” His hot kisses zigzagged down

the center of my body and nearly torched my clothes.

“Makeup sex is always hot. Is it working?”

“For now.”

“Good.”

It was a long time before I said anything else. He 389

had a lot to atone for.

We never did make it to a restaurant.

390

I decided I’d pay Jeff Colhoff a visit before I went to work the next morning. I called June. No answer.

I looked up the address, knowing it had to be close to June’s place, and I drove there to spread my special brand of morning sunshine.

Jeff and his wife lived in a trailer. Not a nice modu-lar home on a slab or with a basement, but a circa 1970s tin shack, rusted out siding, tires on the roof, plastic kids’ play sets scattered around like the scratch n’ dent toy department at Kmart had exploded.

Huddled in my coat, I knocked on the door. Just when I thought no one would answer, the door swung open and nearly knocked me off the buckled steps.

“What?” Jeannie had a fat baby perched on her bony hip, and a younger kid about two, clinging to her skinny 391

leg. Another boy, around fi ve, peeked from the opposite side of the doorframe.

“Hi, Jeannie. Julie Collins, remember me? I wondered if I could talk to Jeff .”

A cigarette bobbed in the corner of her mouth. She squinted one eye against the cigarette smoke and peered at me through the haze. “He ain’t here.”

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“You’re that PI June hired and was calling all the time, blabbin’ about our family business.”

“She didn’t—”

“I don’t appreciate the fact you shoved a goddamn gun in my face, when I was tryin’ to protect what’s mine.