Page 85 of Long Gone

We rode to downtown Jackson Creek in silence, and it hit me that people would see James Malcolm driving my car and me in the passenger seat. Of course, the first thing they’d assume was that I was screwing him. My mother would be horrified. I wasn’t sure I wanted to tie myself to him publicly, but there was no way around it. Especially since I suspected he was sticking to me like I planned to stick to him.

He pulled into a parking lot behind a three-story brick building that had a stationery store on the first floor. We got out, and he led the way into the back door of the store, sauntering up to the counter, and ignoring the open-mouthed stares of two women huddled over a candle display in front of the large windows overlooking Main Street.

I had two choices—either own the fact I was with him or stay in the background and eavesdrop. I suspected no one had seen us walk in, which meant I still had a chance to avoid being linked to him. But what I was saving myself from? My reputation was already in tatters. Would this really knock me down any farther?

I walked up to the counter and stood next to him.

The clerk was a perky woman wearing a dress that looked like it was straight out of the 1950s, minus the crinoline underskirt. Her makeup was minimal, but it made her look pretty, and her hair hung down her back in thick, dark waves. She turned her gaze up to Malcolm and a soft smile curved her lips. “I have to say you look out of place in here. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Malcolm rested the palm of his hand on the wooden counter. “Actually, there is. I’d like to speak to the manager of the office spaces upstairs.”

“You thinkin’ about rentin’ one?” she asked, her lashes fluttering rapidly.

“Something like that,” Malcolm replied, his voice full of honey. I’d never once heard that tone when he was speaking to me, and for some stupid reason it pissed me off.

“Floyd’s not usually here, but he happens to be in the back workin’ on the books. Give me a second and I’ll get him.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Malcolm said, his voice still full of syrup.

The clerk smiled at the women in the front. “I’ll be right back.”

They didn’t say anything, instead shifting their gazes to Malcolm, ignoring me as though I was invisible. That should have pissed me off more than his tone, but I had to admit I was relieved. Maybe Malcolm’s presence was so much larger than life that I was invisible in his shadow. All the better.

The clerk headed down a hall and walked into a room, leaving us alone with the two women who were now openly gawking at Malcolm. Only they weren’t ogling him in the same way the clerk had. Their expressions were full of disgust.

“Fans of yours?” I asked under my breath.

“They were part of the group who wanted to shut my tavern down.”

“You know who wanted to shut you down?” I asked in surprise. I knew Ava’s father, Todd Peterman, had set the wheels in motion, hoping to fuel his campaign for state senate with the platform of shutting down crime, but it stood to reason he had supporters.

“Of course I know who wanted to shut me down,” he sneered. “Always know your enemies.”

I turned to face him, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. “You consider those two middle-aged women your enemies?”

“Anyone who’s against me is my enemy.”

I supposed when you lived your life in the organized crime world and ran your own empire, it made you paranoid. That must be how he’d survived in his position. But it still made me uneasy that he knew they’d supported Peterman. It felt petty. Or maybe it just made him aware.

I didn’t have the mental capacity to figure it out. The vodka had kicked in full force, and I was in that nirvana of being in control of myself while my senses were dulled enough to drown out the unrelenting pain.

The clerk walked back into the hallway, followed by an older man who was adjusting the wire-framed glasses perched on his nose.

She stood to the side as Floyd stopped a few feet away, looking intimidated as he took Malcolm in.

“I hear you’re here about renting an upstairs office,” the older man said, rubbing his left hand on his pants leg.

“That’s right,” Malcolm said. “Do you have anything available?”

“What kind of business would you be operating there?” the older man asked, his voice slightly shaky.

“Shipping,” Malcolm said. “International. I just need an office for my phone and an address.”

Floyd swallowed hard. “And would this be…” His gaze bobbed to me. “Legal?”

Dammit. Did Floyd know who he was or was Malcolm just making him nervous? “Of course,” I said, trying to make myself sound sweet and innocent, but I’d never been an actress so I wasn’t sure it landed.

He glanced at Malcolm then back to me.

---