“No glued-on newspaper letters, or is that so 1980s?” I quip. The letter has only a few sentences.
The decline in Kerr stock could be much worse. Think about that when you’re deciding who to socialize with. Hope you and your slut enjoy the poor house. There’s much worse where that came from.
“Someone doesn’t like you, Steve. Look at the insult. I shouldn’t be socializing with you.” I hand the letter back to him and strip off the plastic gloves.
“It’s Kaga they don’t like then because you hang around him more than anyone.” Steve sticks the letter into a plastic baggie and sits down across from Lauren.
“True,” I muse. “Nightclub business can be cutthroat.”
“I’m not going to tell you anything, so you might as well just call the police.” Lauren interrupts our jests. Scowling, she adds, “And it’s not a f**king joke.”
“You’re not a very good at this,” Steve says. “First, there are cameras at the door. Visible ones. Second, you were noisy as f**k. We could hear you on the exterior video feed coming down the alley.” He shakes his head in disgust.
“I’m a f**king waitress, not a spy,” she retorts.
“You should stick to waiting tables.”
“Oh, what great advice. Next time I have someone forcing me to do things, I’ll be sure to tell them I’m only good at waiting tables. I’m sure that will go over swell.”
“Worth a try.” Steve turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “Louis?”
“No, Richard Howe, I think.” My gaze hasn’t turned away from her, and I see her small flinch. Yes, Richard Howe. Tiny needs to come down.
“Just a minute.” I stride over to the stairs. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”
I leave the two glaring at each other. Tiny will be sorry she missed the fireworks. I saw more sparks between Steve and this stranger in the last few minutes than I ever have with Steve’s sullen girlfriend.
Upstairs in the darkened bedroom, Tiny is sprawled out on the bed, her arm over on my side as if she’s searching for me. The sexy hollow of her spine leads down enticingly to the rise of her ass, barely covered by the sheet. If there’s anything I should be angry about, it’s that I have to wake her from slumber. She should be allowed to rest after the workout I gave her. I nab her the blue silk embroidered robe.
I like it on her because there’s no easier access to her tempting charms than through an ill-fitting robe. On second thought, given that we have company, the sex robe should be shelved. I pull out a pair of knit shorts and a tank. She can put the robe overtop of those two items.
“Bunny,” I whisper, stroking the hair out of her face, “we have some company.”
She mumbles something into the mattress but doesn’t move. Her exposed back is too tempting to resist, so I place a few kisses down the column. Downstairs there are murmurs. The two are still talking. I hear a scrape of a chair and then running water. Steve is probably making tea. Aussies love their tea.
“Wake up, Tiny,” I say with regret. I’d love to climb back in bed with her, but we’ve got an issue to deal with.
She rolls over, squinting at me. “Are we poor?” she asks sleepily.
“Poor?” I’m baffled and give her a confused chuckle.
“Did you lose everything in the Asian markets?” She sits up, grasping the sheets to her chest and looking like an adorable little owl.
“No.” I stifle another laugh. “We can still afford a few homes and takeout. But we do have a guest, and I’d like you to come down and talk to her.”
“Is it Sarah?” She swings her legs to the side of the bed and starts to pull on clothes as I hand them to her.
“No, it’s Lauren.”
“Lauren?” Because she’s sleepy, it takes a few seconds for the battery leads to connect in her brain but once they do, her head snaps up. “Table 57 Lauren?”
I nod.
“Holy shit.” Tiny jumps up, grabs the robe out of my hands, and runs out of the room while struggling to wrap it around herself. She hops down the stairs and skids to a stop at the sight of Steve pouring hot tea into mugs.
“Tea?” he asks, holding up the pot.
Tiny shakes her head no. I can tell by the way her gaze swings from Steve to Lauren and back again, she’s not sure who is the more interesting and surprising entity in her dining room. I give her a small nudge, and she plops into a chair at the head of the table.
“I’m Victoria.” She holds out her hand to Lauren.
Lauren grasps it gingerly, as if Tiny might shock her. “Lauren Williams.”
“Nice to meet you. I understand you knew Richard Howe at one point. Me too.”
Lauren gasps and covers her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she says after a moment of staring.
“No need. I have Ian.” Tiny replies and holds up a hand toward me. I grab it, standing behind her chair with my other hand on her shoulder. Lauren’s eyes eat this all up, and neither Tiny nor I miss the under-the-lashes sideways glance Lauren shoots to Steve as he comes over with two mugs of tea, placing one in front of Lauren. “I know that you’re in some trouble, Lauren, and we can help.” She gestures around the table. Steve grunts his agreement, back to his closemouthed self.
“You want to help?” Lauren shoots back.
Tiny nods and leans forward. “Yes, we do.”
“Then back off. Whatever it is you’re doing that Richard Howe doesn’t like, just stop. That’s how you can help.”
“We aren’t doing anything. We’d have to stop existing,” Tiny protests, but I cough.
“What?”
“I forgot to tell you that I’ve called in some of Howe’s debt.” Tiny narrows her eyes at me. Holding up my palms, I add, “I swear that’s everything.”
“They’re dangerous,” Lauren warns.
“They?” I ask, turning toward her.
She looks down at her hands as if worried she’s given too much away. “I can’t help you. I’m sorry. Just call the police.”
Her implacable response reminds me of Big Guy, who refused to give anything up as well. Their silence isn’t purchased by money, though. I couldn’t have bought their words. They’re bound by something more powerful than money.
“What happened tonight?” Tiny finally asks me.
“I saw this young person fiddling with the lock. I let her in so that I could confront her.”