Page 27 of Hell Bent

Picking up her fork, Sway followed Lottie’s lead and started eating. Maybe she would sleep with Vicious, if he ever offered. Or maybe she’d take that hot doctor to bed. The thought of Razor did nothing for Sway. Not like the thought of Vicious did. Yes, if the opportunity arose, she’d take it.

Chapter Seventeen

Sway walked along the streets of Old Montreal, which were covered in a heavy dusting of new snow. Lights from the shop windows had it sparkling in the late evening. Winters in Montreal were long, tough, and bitterly cold. If you loved ice and snow, winter was enjoyable. If you didn’t, you were miserable.

The one thing she never forgot when walking around at night was to take basic precautions. She wore no jewellery and carried no purse. All her possessions were shoved in her front pockets. Like any major city, Montreal had its dark and seedy side. The Red-Light District was a bad area, with prostitutes and drug dealers around Saint Catherine Street and Saint Laurent Boulevard. She only headed into that area when she had packages to mail.

Walking down the snow-covered street, Sway was on high alert. She knew she was being watched. At least it wasn’t Jerome or the two men who came into the shop.

Lottie had called, telling her to get dressed and get out of the apartment.

After wasting a month looking for any connection between Tesh and the Bloody Scorpions, Sway was fed up. Throwing her pen at the corkboard, she screamed. The only connection between the street gang and her brother was Jerome.

But she could connect the Bloody Scorpions to the Royal Bastards. The two groups were enemies. She wondered if Tesh accidentally got mixed up in something going on between the two. Asking Jerome was out of the question. Could she ask the Royal Bastards was the bigger question. Her phone ringing grabbed her attention. “Hello?”

“Hey, bitch, meet me at the Rainbow Room.”

“Lottie, that club is not my jam.”

“Fine, but you need to get dressed and go out.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sway grumbled as she hung up.

She was now out walking around Old Montreal. Her stomach rumbled, reminding Sway she hadn’t eaten. Tucking into a restaurant, she smiled at the hostess. “Table pour une?” the young woman asked her.

“Oui, puis-je m'asseoir asseoir près de la fenêtre?” Sabine asked with a smile.

“Oui, suivez-moi.” The hostess showed her a little two-top by the front window, and as she took a seat, the girl handed her the menu. “Merci.” Sway smiled again at the hostess as she walked away.

Glancing over the menu, Sway had the taste for nothing. Pulling out the business card, she ran her fingers over the name. She carried it everywhere, like a damn security blanket of some kind.

Looking at the name and number written on it, it readVicious, but Sway knew his real name. “Mason LaPointe,” she said out loud, trying out how the name rolled off her tongue. Unfolding a piece of paper she had crammed into her coat pocket, she scanned it. It read like a shopping list. Attempted murder—check. Assaulting a police officer—check, check. Assault and battery—check, check, check.

That was everything she had gotten on Vicious. The rest of the information was nothing she hadn’t expected. She, however, had hoped for a little more than what she got. Taking out her phone, she called the number.

“Ouais,” came the sound of a deep male voice. It cascaded over her like a warm blanket she could wrap herself in.

“Est-ce Mason Lapointe?”

“Ouais.”

Sway loved the sound of him speaking in her native language. Although it sounded lovely, she could tell it wasn’t his native tongue. Switching to English, she addressed him. “Vicious, this is Sabine Roussin.”

“You know, I don’t think you look like a Sabine.”

“Well, you would know since you’ve been following me for weeks.” While sitting there, Sway sent multiple images of Vicious and another man sitting in different vehicles outside her home and work, even following her as she ran errands, to Vicious’s phone. “You can call me Sway.”

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he said with a thick accent.

Watching the restaurant, he could see from his perch in an alcove she’d chosen a seat in the window. He’d spent days, weeks watching her move down the streets of OldMontreal with a hell of a lot of sway in her hips. The name fit her. “We should get together.”

Unbuttoning her coat, Sway shrugged it off, listening to his suggestion.What could it hurt, she thought. After all, he’d already spent the night in her apartment watching over her. She wanted to know why he was watching her. What better way than over dinner. “There’s an empty seat at my table. Would you be interested in having dinner with me?”

“I’ll be right there.” Vicious hung up then jogged across the snow-covered street to let Player know he could head out. Signalling for the brother to roll down his window, Vicious leaned in. “You can head back to the clubhouse. I’m having dinner with Sway.”

“Sway? That’s what she goes by?”

“Yeah.”

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