Whisky on My Mind (13 page)

She could feel Bella’s thoughtful gaze on her and tried not to squirm beneath it.

“Must be nice.”

“What must be?” Whisky asked briefly
, glancing across at her friend.

“Being able to trust someone that much…I’m not sure if I ever could…not after…”
She let her words drift off and stared out the window.

“You will one day, Bell.
When the right guy comes along.”

“I hope so,” she smiled
, looking over at her. “I’d really like to have what you and Sawyer have, some day.”

Whisky found herself going over their conversation for the rest of the trip home. She felt bad about not admitting there were times
when she resented Sawyer’s secret club business. That it felt like a double standard, that he was allowed to have a part of his life she would never be completely included in, and yet he expected her to devote herself completely to him. It’s just a normal reaction, she told herself once more. She just had to get used to it. She didn’t like the uneasy feeling that tried to squeeze its way into her mind…the little rebellious streak that demanded she had a right to live her own life, too. It was a stark opposite to the biggest part of her that loved Sawyer beyond reason and wanted to be happy living the life she chose with him.

It scared her.

There didn’t seem to be any middle ground with the two sides of her mind. She knew that if she fought the system, she’d lose him.
And what if you don’t fight it? Are you happy to lose yourself?
This was why she tried never to have too much time to think.

****

“Has all the Switchblade stuff been put on hold after Sorenson’s press conference?” Whisky asked, as she lay with Sawyer late one night on the sofa in their apartment. They hadn’t talked about the club decision to take on the Switchblades since after the day of the vote. This was one of the first nights they’d both been awake this late in days.

Sawyer toyed with her fingers, and she guessed he was kind of grateful they weren’t facing each other if his hedging kind of answer was anything to go by. “It made us re-think a few things. Don’t worry, Baby, we’re not going anywhere just yet.”

She was relieved to hear it. Each day she wondered if this was the day they rode off to go face the Switchblades. She had no idea what all this involved, but an image of a mass shootout at the O.K. Corral managed to turn her blood to ice in her veins. She turned in his arms so that she faced him and snuggled her face tightly into his neck, breathing in his warm, comforting scent.

“Hey?” Sawyer said softly, pulling back so he could look into her face. “It’s going to be okay, Baby. I promise.”

She nodded quickly, unable to trust her voice as a fierce rush of dread washed over her. She hated this calm before the storm feeling that hung heavily over the club. The waiting was driving her insane.

The next afternoon as they worked side by side in Sawyer’s office, a knock on the door announced Jackson’s arrival.
“Sawyer, there’s a cop in the bar, wants to see you, Detective Santiago.”

A string of expletives flew from
Sawyer’s mouth as he pushed himself away from the desk and sent a wary frown Whisky’s way. “Fantastic. Just what I need to top off an already shitty week.”

“Maybe I should come with you,” Whisky said, as apprehension settled between her shoulder blades.
Caleb and Sawyer in the same room was just asking for trouble.

“Yeah, might be a good idea. That way he can see for himself you’re alive and unscathed.
For some reason the jerk always asks how you are.”

“
Baby,” she warned lightly. “Just hear him out and don’t make any trouble,” she told him as he pulled her to her feet.

“Yes ma’am
,” he agreed with a smirk that damned if it didn’t make her melt just a little bit.

They walked
out into to the bar hand in hand, and she noticed Cindy hovering by the waitress station wearing an anxious look on her face. Throwing her a confident smile, Whisky stopped and asked if she’d bring over some drinks before following Sawyer to the table where Caleb sat, waiting.

“Sky,” he said, holding her gaze a moment too long for what would be considered polite. Beside her she could feel
Sawyer holding himself in check, even though outwardly he showed no reaction.

“Hello, Caleb. What can we do for you?”
she asked, ignoring the tension in the air.

“I just dropped by for a friendly chat.”

“How’s your investigation going?” Sawyer asked calmly.

“It’s been a little difficult, actually. “That’s why I thought I’d come by. It seems our victim’s phone and
laptop have somehow mysteriously disappeared between him boarding his flight in France and arriving here.”

“That’s air travel for
ya’. Always losing your stuff,” Sawyer said, looking up to thank Cindy as she deposited a tray of iced tea and beer on the table before them.

Caleb took an iced tea and ignored Sawyer
’s smirk as he picked up a beer, taking a long draw on the bottle as he waited for the detective to continue.

“So when you met Mr
. Sorenson at the arrivals gate, did he have a laptop case with him?”

“Not that I recall,” Sawyer said amiably.

“That’s strange, because in the footage we managed to pull from inside the airport, he’s definitely holding what appears to be a laptop bag and talking on his cell phone.”

Whisky bit the inside of her cheek anxiously as she watched Caleb slid
e a photo across the table toward Sawyer.

“The footage also suggested that Mr
. Sorenson didn’t exactly look too keen to go with you…which is strange since you’ve stated you were there to pick him up.”

“He wasn’t aware of the change of plans. We had to inform him once we got there,” Sawyer shrugged, taking another mouthful of beer.

“If I had to speculate, I’d even go as far as saying, he looked downright afraid of you.”

Sawyer shrugged. “He wasn’t expecting a welcoming committee. Maybe he got freaked out by all the ink? Who knows, I wasn’t there to make the guy feel comfortable. I was simply there to–”

“Pick him up, yeah I know,” Caleb finished the sentence for him dryly.

“Did you know that the victim had a record?” Caleb asked, taking a long sip of his drink as he regarded them both across the table. “Apparently young Paul had a bit of a malicious streak. He tried to blackmail some rich society widow last year, but the charges got dropped and it all just went away once his
daddy stepped in,” he paused, eyeing Sawyer thoughtfully. “I guess by now you know that his father’s a senator? Yeah, that’s a bit of bad luck really…for the club, I mean. Nothing like the son of an important public figure being murdered to draw some unwanted attention, is there?”

“Is there any point to all this?” Sawyer snarled.

“Well, it just got me thinking…Sorenson seemed to have some kind of talent in fashion design. Apparently he and your friend,” he slid his gaze across to Whisky briefly, “Bella Campisi, had a bit of a public feud happening according to interviews we’ve done with other students on campus.”

“Are you suggesting that we had this kid killed over some schoolyard tiff?” Sawyer scoffed.

“No. I haven’t worked out why you wanted Sorenson so badly, yet…but I’m getting there. If you figure out where that laptop may have disappeared to or anything else you think may be relevant to the case…call me,” he said, getting to his feet and sliding his card across the table.

“Yeah—we’ll do that,” Sawyer snarled.

“See you around, Sky,” he said, sending her a warm smile that she barely returned. Was the guy insane, coming in here to stir up trouble like that?

“Fuck,” Sawyer growled, watching Caleb walk out the door.

“Do you think he knows about the photos?” Whisky asked nervously.

“He would have said something. I think we’re pretty safe there. I’m more concerned over how much heat this senator is placing on the cops.”

“Surely he’ll be going after the Switchblades…they were the ones who shot his kid.”

“At this stage he’ll be pissed off at anyone connected to what happened…and if he’s seen the surveillance footage he’ll know we wanted his kid for something.”

“Can anything come back on you guys?” Whisky asked nervously.

“No…at least not any of
this
.”

“But something?” she prodded.

Sawyer let out a frustrated sigh and lit up a cigarette. She knew he was stressed if he was smoking. “I’m more worried what they might uncover if they start digging around the Switchblades.”

“Razor?” she guessed quietly.

He sent her a look that confirmed it and she instantly felt a stab of guilt. This was all her fault. He’d only gone after Razor and the two other Switchbladers after they’d attacked her in a back alleyway.

“Don’t worry
, Baby,“ he said, sliding his hand over hers where it rested on top of the table. There’s no way they can pin anything on us…it’s all circumstantial. I made a promise that nothing would ever come back on you…and I meant it. I will
always
protect you, Whisk.”

“I just wish
we didn’t,” she began, before nervously toying with a napkin with her spare hand.

“
Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t have to be
having this conversation. I hate all this stuff, Sawyer. I hate worrying about what you’re doing and if one day I’m going to get a phone call telling me you’ve been killed or arrested…”

“
That’s not gonna’ happen, Baby. I’ll never do something that might keep me away from you. Ever.”

He believed it—she knew he honestly did
, but there was no way he could make a promise like that…this thing with the Switchblades only proved that he was not indestructible. If someone wanted to hurt him—they could do it…at any time.

She wasn’t worried about him doing anything illegal now…i
t was things from his past  she wasn’t so confident about…your past always had an unfortunate habit of resurfacing when you least expected it…she just hoped there were no more skeletons she didn’t know about ready to fall out at her feet.

Chapter 12

That night as Whisky was clearing tables in the restaurant, she looked up to find Kiki leaning across the bar, twirling a strand of her Barbie blonde locks around a finger coyly as she chatted up Jackson behind the bar. The position showed off her ample cleavage, while at the back her skirt rode up leaving little to the imagination from behind.

“Oh for goodness sake,” she muttered under her breath, weaving her way across the floor toward the bar.
“Kiki. Have you got orders to take?” she snapped as she got closer and bit back a growl as the young girl rolled her eyes and gave a loud huff, pushing away from the bar to head back across to the restaurant side.

Whisky narrowed her glare onto the handsome bartender, who followed the swaying hips of the young waitress as she walked away. “Don’t encourage her.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” he protested, busily wiping glasses and trying to look busy.

“Dude, you have got to be kidding me if you’re even considering it. She’s a walking venereal disease. Surely even a manwhore like you can’t be that hard up?”

“
Hey! I’m not that bad.”

Whisky sent him an
as if
look and shook her head. “Do whatever you want in your own time, but don’t distract her during work hours.”

With one final glare at the bartender,
Whisky headed across to the waitress station. “I’d like you to stop by my office after your shift,” she told Kiki as she walked past.

“Why?”

Gritting her teeth against the girl’s bratty attitude, Whisky took a deep breath. “To find you a bigger sized shirt…that one’s at least two sizes too small,” she smiled patiently.

“No thanks. This one’s fine.”

“It wasn’t optional.”

Cindy stood nearby
, watching the exchanged with an incredulous shake of her head.