Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(22)
“See you soon!” I left Wolf standing in the dust without giving him Sax’s phone number. I didn’t want any Prospect getting in my way. I could be very headstrong. Sax might be able to tell me what to do, which is why I hadn’t told him my plans. But a damned Prospect? No way in hell.
I had a mission, just like the old days. It gave me a sense of purpose, a reason to live. A happiness I hadn’t felt in years.
CHAPTER SIX
SAX
Sax made his best effort at the nail salon. But what could he really do? He couldn’t pass for a guy who looked like he wanted a pedicure, and he couldn’t just bust in the back office and look at their books.
But it did look like a sweatshop with probably a hundred health code violations. Some technicians weren’t wearing gloves as they worked on clients, Sax crunched toenails under his boots, and there were rings around the whirlpool footbaths. It was likely that Ford or Lytton had some health inspectors in their pockets who could do some digging. Almost all of the workers were Hispanic. Sax understood the cussing of the mannish woman who appeared to be in charge.
“Joder! Mierda!” Fuck! Shit! “Me cago en la madre que te parió!” I shit on the mother who gave birth to you!
“Excuse me,” said Sax in English, so the barrel-chested woman with spindly legs wouldn’t know that he understood her swearing. “I’m wondering if you have any gift certificates I could give my girlfriend.”
The woman pasted on an evil grin to explain her gift card process, but found time in her explanation to break away and yell over her shoulder. “Mover el culo perezoso y limpiar esas máquinas de cortar!” Get off your lazy ass and clean those clippers! For women who were berated so much, the employees sure didn’t seem to be obeying her, maybe because she seemed to need more of them. Only four women scurried around tending to fifteen clients.
Sax decided to cut to the chase. Pulling out his smartphone, he thumbed to a photo of Tony Tormenta. It was one of his infamous Facebook portraits from days of old, but Sax had cropped out the guns and bags of white powder so as not to “lead” her.
“?Conoces a este hombre?” Do you know this man?
Her face blanched under her pockmarked skin as she looked at the photo. He realized later perhaps he should have spoken in English, because maybe she was panic-stricken to realize he spoke fairly decent Spanish. He had to, in all his travels.
Still, she responded in English. “Never seen him in my life. What did he do, kill some woman?”
What a strange thing to say. “Do you mind if I show your employees this photo?”
Her fake smile froze. Her pupils became black pebbles of nastiness. “They are too busy to look at photos. Can’t you see? If you want to show salon owners photos, go crosstown to l’Amour Nails and talk to that woman Nguyen. She is probably familiar with rapists. Now, please. I have much work to do.”
Sax realized he’d have to come up with a new plan for infiltrating the salon. As he turned to leave, a Mexican woman was entering the front door. But when she saw him, fright flashed through her eyes. She changed her mind, and fled down the street.
She could have thought he was an inspector from the health department. Or she could have thought he was one of Tormenta’s thugs. Sax had to admit, there was no way he could erase his aura of thuggishness. Even without his cut on, hos hoodie zipped over his wifebeater, he looked like what he was—a hired gun. Of course he had his Glock stuck into the back of his jeans under the hoodie.
Sax texted Beatrix as he walked. He’d parked a few blocks away so as not to frighten anyone with the sight of his ’98 Springer Softail.
On my way to pick you up at The Citadel.
Her answer was immediate. Never mind. I’ll head to Lytton’s myself.
No, stay where you are. I don’t want you traveling alone.
I’m already on my way. No big deal.
I don’t like it. You need to learn to obey. Have Wolf Glaser chase you there if you have to.
Then there was silence. He also didn’t want her texting while driving, so he didn’t harass her anymore. But as he turned his fuel switch on, he thought about how they’d need to set very stringent parameters for the young missy. He liked that she was a “free spirit,” basically a brat, but if she was going to stay safe and alive, she’d have to obey him.
He’d put a f*cking tracker on her car if he had to—in fact, that was a very good idea. He didn’t want that f*cking Wolf Glaser idiot hanging around him, getting in the way—he could assign Wolf to be her bodyguard. She could stay at Maddy’s along with Wolf. That would give Sax the freedom to finish his job, return as the lion of the day in supreme glory, and sweep up the innocent gardener—educate her in the “low protocol” joys of being dominated by an expert service Master who didn’t mind someone pushing back a little.
He didn’t see Beatrix’s cage on Lake Mary Road. When he arrived at Lytton’s palatial, glassy, wood-beamed new home on Mormon Mountain and didn’t see her cage, he checked his phone. Nothing from the camp counselor he was now beginning to jones for like an addict. The more she rebelled and disobeyed him, the more she drew him in. She was definitely topping him from the bottom, far more than he was accustomed to. A good bottom could enact some freaky rebel play—Lord knew, Sax enjoyed the power exchange as well as the next guy. But Beatrix Hellman had been disobeying him in almost every facet possible since the moment they’d met. More than ever, Sax wondered with a fever who the hell her Dom was.