Page 3 of Killer's Obsession
Not that I’m complaining. Memphis Sutton has become my fucking obsession.
My obsession that I need to tell about the house I’m building.
Grabbing my cut from the back of the door, I slip it on, then flip the switch on the wall and pull the door closed before popping my head into Dread’s room on my way out.
“I’m heading out, bro.”
Dread looks up from the chest piece he’s working on. “Lock the door, will ya?”
With a nod of my head, I make my way to the front. The shop is mostly dark except for the security lights shining across the newly polished concrete floors. I turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED and step out into the humidity. I’ll be glad when the weather turns cooler.
As I lock the door, my phone rings again. I pull it out, half expecting it to be Memphis wanting to know where the hell I am. Usually, I’d have already been out of here, but with the Baja Boards Surf Competitions this week, the walk-ins have beeninsane. Surf competitions always bring in a shit-ton of tourists. People come from all over to see the legends.
I don’t get my phone out of my pocket quickly enough, and it stops ringing. Before I can hit the button to see who it was, it starts to ring again, andHEAVEN’S DOORflashes across the screen.
“Yeah?” I answer, somehow knowing my night is about to get longer.
“I need you to stop by when you get off,” Reign’s Irish brogue comes through the line, and I can hear the tension behind his words.
“Fuck.” I duck my head, exhaustion settling deep into my bones. All I want is a hot shower and my girl curled up against me for the next ten hours. Is that too much to ask?
“I’m on my way.” I sigh.
Disconnecting the call, I pocket my phone and head for my bike.
The ride to the strip club is quick.
I’m not surprised when I pull up and the parking lot is still packed. Heaven’s Door is in the middle of the tourist strip, which is prime for attracting the out-of-towners. And with it being Friday night, that means big business until closing time rolls around.
I park in a reserved spot near the front and nod at Havoc, who’s working the door. He steps aside and motions for me to go on in. “He’s in the booth.”
When I step inside, my senses are instantly assaulted. The music is pounding, and the stage is lit up. Vegas, one of the dancers,has drawn a crowd as she twirls around the pole. Every eye in the house is glued to her body as she spins.
Looking away from the stage, I head for the back booth where Reign is hunched over some papers with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.
“What’s up?” I slide into the booth across from him.
He looks up, and his eyes are bloodshot. “I’ve been over this week’s books three times.” He taps one of the ledgers with a tattooed finger. “I think someone’s skimming.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “The fuck?” I glance around the crowded room, mentally running through the HD’s roster. “Who would have the fucking balls to steal from us?”
It’s practically suicide. Everyone knows what happens to people who cross the Saints–we feed your ass to the fucking sharks.
“You say anything to Chief or Morph?” I ask, lowering my voice.
Reign shakes his head. “Not yet.” He picks up his cigarette and takes a long drag. “It’s still early, and I wanted to be sure before telling them that we got a thief.”
Smart.
A waitress saunters up to the table dressed in short shorts and a bikini top that barely contains her tits. “Can I get you anything, honey?”
I wave her off. “Not tonight, darlin’.” I’m not staying longer than I have to.
She throws me a wink and goes on her way.
“Any ideas who it might be?” I ask, turning my attention back to Reign.
He stubs out his cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke. “Not a fucking clue. It could be a bartender skimming from the register. It could be someone at the door pocketing cover charges. Hell, could even be one of the girls holding out on lap dance money.”
