Chapter 7 Ice
The cool metal of Isabella’s watch bites into the palm of my hand as I flip it over. An inscription appears in the dim light of the VIP room. “ Para mi amor, siempre y para siempre .” I speak a little Spanish, so I can translate it. “To my love, always and forever.”
A heavy sensation twists in my gut, a mix of jealousy and annoyance. I’m mad at myself for not stopping what happened between us, but damn, the heat we generated could’ve set this whole club ablaze. But what’s up with this watch? Does she already have a man?
“Isabella,” I mutter under my breath. She never mentioned a husband, but then again, we were too busy fucking to talk much. If she’s got a man, that’s going to complicate things—a lot. Not that they’re not already a grade-A clusterfuck.
A sharp knock on the door yanks me from the spiral of my thoughts.
“I’m coming in!” Vicki yells, pushing the door open.
“Hang on!” I slam it shut. “Gimme a second.”
Shit!
I quickly ditch the condom in the nearby trash can and hustle to get my clothes back on. I shove the watch deep into the pocket of my jeans. Can’t have it lying around as evidence of our little escapade.
My heart hammers against my ribs like a caged beast as I open the door. Vicki stands there, those green eyes sharpened by suspicion, scanning me like she knows every secret I’ve ever kept. Does she know about Isabella and me? No way I’m asking her. Best to keep this interaction short and sweet.
“What’s up?” The words come out more rushed than I intend.
“Isabella.”
I brace myself for the storm that might follow, but she doesn’t say anything else. She just stands there giving me the evil eye. Even though she looks like a typical blonde bimbo, she’s anything but. The girl’s way smarter than she looks, so I’d better watch what I say.
“What about her?” I ask, playing dumb.
“She had to bounce. Wasn’t feeling too hot,” Vicki says, her voice laced with a mix of concern and accusation as she leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. The neon light from the hallway casts a glow around her like some kind of interrogator’s halo.
“She left?” I try to keep my face neutral, but I’m sure some annoyance shows. I can’t believe she left without saying anything to me. Now I really wonder how much Vicki knows.
“My girl seemed fine before whatever went down in here with you,” she says, eyes narrowing. She’s too damn observant for her own good.
“Nothing happened,” I lie through my teeth. I want to shove my hands into my pockets, but the weight of Isabella’s watch against my thigh reminds me that it’s still there. Can’t risk drawing attention to it.
“Come on. You expect me to buy that?” Vicki challenges, stepping closer.
“Woman,” I snap, leaning in so we’re eye to eye. “Remember where you are.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” She puts her hands on her hips and glares.
“Last time I checked, you were dancing at my club, so watch your mouth.”
“Or what?”
“Damn, woman! You’re lucky you’re Tank’s girl.”
“Oh, please.” She smirks, unbothered. “Even without Tank, you’d have hired me. I’m hot, and you know it.”
I can’t help but chuckle, breaking the tension for a split second. “Can’t comment on that. Tank would try to kick my ass, and we can’t be fighting about bitches.”
“I’m his girl, not his bitch.”
“He hasn’t claimed you yet,” I point out. I’m being a prick, but I can’t help it. She’d got me backed into a corner, literally, and I need to get the fuck out of it.
She flinches before shifting gears. “Give me Isabella’s watch and I won’t tell Tank about this.”
Damn. I pause, considering. Handing over the watch might get Vicki off my back, but something gnaws at me to keep it close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What watch?”
“An asshole and a liar,” she mutters.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I demand, stepping into her space.
“Look, I don’t want to be in here dealing with your ass either, but she wants her watch back. Just give it to me and I’m gone. I don’t give a shit about what’s going on with you two. She just wants her stuff.”
“Well, she must’ve dropped it somewhere else. Not here,” I deflect smoothly, hoping my face doesn’t betray the lie.
“Don’t lose it, Ice. You’d better give it back to Bella,” Vicki warns. Her gaze cuts right through me, making me wonder if she can see straight into my pocket.
“Does it matter that much?” I ask, feigning indifference.
“Means a lot to her,” she replies sharply.
“Why? Did her boyfriend or husband give it to her?” Might as well prod for information since Vicki doesn’t believe me for a second.
“She doesn’t strike me as the type to get tied down,” Vicki admits, shrugging. “Keeps to herself, you know? Some of the girls think she’s stuck-up, coming in and not talking to anyone. Thinks she’s too good for us.”
“Stuck-up, huh?” I muse. Although I wouldn’t describe her that way, maybe that’s how other people see her.
“One of the girls mentioned her brother’s a big deal. A cartel leader,” Vicki whispers. “Is that true?”
“Rumors are dangerous things. Best not to spread them,” I reply, giving her nothing, even though my mind races. If other people in the club know she’s part of the cartel, how long will it take for word to get back to her brother?
“Whatever you say, boss,” she huffs, rolling her eyes before heading toward the door. “Just don’t forget about that watch.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say.
“I’m not saying shit to anyone about anything. I’m just here to dance and cash in on the good life.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, the strands catching the dim light like spun gold. “Gotta jet, DJ’s calling me up next.” Without waiting for my reply, she turns on her heel and leaves me alone in the room.
After I close the door, I pull the watch from my pocket and turn it over in my hand, the inscription taunting me from its silver surface.
To my love, always and forever.
“Always and forever, huh?” I mutter, the irony not lost on me. Isabella’s world seems far removed from such fairy tale notions. Fang would’ve found marriage records if she were hitched, so what’s the story with this watch?
The timepiece looks expensive despite its weathered appearance. I want to know more about its history. Who would give her a gift like this? A lover? Certainly not a family member. It’s a bit too romantic for that.
“Time to go see Fang,” I muse, pocketing the watch and striding out of the VIP room.
Fang’s a wizard with gadgets and gizmos, and he owes me one. He might have the means to track down the original buyer. Fang’s got connections I don’t, and one of them might just lead me to the answers I need. Time to ride out and touch base with the geek who can throw down when it counts.
The roar of my bike fades into silence as I kill the engine outside the club’s autobody shop. I’ve never had much reason to come out here recently, but this is where Fang’s set up shop while we’re waiting on the new clubhouse.
As I walk through the huge, open garage doors, the scent of motor oil and metal greets me. Several men look up from their work. They jerk their chins in acknowledgment before returning to the vehicles they’re working on. Some of them are patched guys and others are prospects. They’re all hard workers, and this place brings in a lot of money for the club.
Dodging a sea of scattered auto parts and tools, I head for Fang’s makeshift office. When I shove open the door, Fang looks up from a laptop that seems too delicate for his large hands, an incongruous sight against the backdrop of car innards and machinery.
“Clubhouse coming along?” I ask, propping myself against the edge of the desk.
“Everything’s on schedule,” he responds without missing a beat, eyes flicking back to the screen. “But you’re not here for a construction update. What’s up?”
Fang’s intuition has always been sharp, and it irks me that he reads me so easily. I pull out the watch, the silver catching the light as it lands with a soft thud on the desk.
“Can you help me find out who bought this?” The question hangs between us as Fang stares at the timepiece.
“Let me see.” He plucks it off the desk and examines it with a furrowed brow, flipping it over to reveal the name of its maker etched into the metal like a signature on a masterpiece. “This isn’t just a watch, it’s a statement piece. Antique. Pricey. Where did you get it?”
“Is there a way we can track down the buyer? Tonight?” I ask.
“What’s the deal with this? Why the rush?” He sets the watch down. His fingers dance across the keyboard as he speaks, already diving into digital depths I can’t fathom.
“I just need the info.”
“It’s a woman’s watch. Did you buy it from a fence or something?” Fang teases, but there’s a seriousness in his gaze that tells me he knows something’s up.
“Just need to return it to its owner,” I lie smoothly, my voice a low rumble of feigned indifference.
“Where did you find it?”
“Velvet.”
“So what’s the rush? It probably belongs to one of the strippers. Just hold onto it until one of them asks about it.”
I drum my fingers on the cold metal of Fang’s desk, a staccato beat to match the thrumming in my chest. “Man, it’s just… It’s a time-sensitive thing. The owner’s probably freakin’ out about losing something so valuable.”
Fang eyes me, skepticism etched in the lines of his face. “Can’t you wait until tomorrow? You could take it to that fancy watch shop near the Superdome.”
“Tomorrow could be too late,” I mutter, knowing full well that Isabella will want her watch back as soon as possible.
“Does this have anything to do with the sister of—” Fang starts, cutting himself off as if saying it out loud might summon trouble.
“Yeah, it’s hers,” I admit, letting out a heavy sigh. There’s no point in lying anymore because he’s going to interrogate me until I tell him the truth.
“Then give it back and leave her alone.” His voice is firm, brooking no argument. “You shouldn’t be tangled up with her. Have you figured out why she’s working at Velvet?”
“We don’t exactly talk,” I reply tersely, my mind flashing back to the heated silence right before she offered to dance for me.
“Are you sleeping with her?” Fang’s voice is as sharp as a blade.
“None of your damn business,” I snap. When he continues to glare, I add, “Fine. Once, okay? It was just once.”
“You fucked Isabella Vasquez? Please tell me you didn’t do it at Velvet.”
“About that…”
“You’re a fucking dumbass.” He looks like he’s swallowed a bug, disgust and disbelief fighting for dominance on his face. I get why he’s flipping out. Not only did I sleep with the enemy, but I also did it at work, after swearing I wouldn’t touch any of the women there.
“Guilty as charged,” I say with a chuckle, trying to ease the tension.
“Did anyone see you?” He’s on his feet now, muscles tensed beneath that nerdy tee like a panther ready to pounce. Today’s shirt reads “In my defense, I was left unsupervised.” Maybe I need that shirt.
“Nobody saw us,” I reply. “Except… maybe Vicki.”
“Tank’s girl?” Fang’s voice is a whisper now, laced with dread. “Jesus, Ice. If she tells Tank and he rats you out to Vapor, you’re cooked. What were you thinking?”
“Nothing. Not one damn thing.” The admission twists like a knife in my gut. “It just happened.”
“Shit,” he breathes out, pushing his glasses up as he contemplates the mess I’m in. The silence stretches, taut as a wire about to snap. He’s staring at me like I’ve got a death wish, and maybe I do. “You need to tell Vapor about this.”
“Tell him what?” My voice is sharp, almost defensive. “That I screwed up once? There’s nothing to tell.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why do you care who gave her the watch then?”
“Curiosity,” I lie smoothly. But as I snatch the watch from the desk, I realize Fang’s not buying it. “If you’re not gonna help, just forget you saw this.” I stuff the watch into my pocket, ready to bolt.
“Wait, Ice!” His call echoes into the shop as I stomp onto the grease-stained floor. The clang of metal tools and the smell of oil and sweat mix with my frustration, creating a storm inside me.
Fang’s hand clamps down on my shoulder, spinning me back around. “Get back in the office,” he orders, and something in his tone tells me not to argue.
Once we’re behind closed doors, he looks me dead in the eye. “I’ll see if I can get a hold of my guy,” he concedes, but there’s a catch in his voice. “But you gotta promise me, if Isabella has a boyfriend, you’ll back off.”
“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t be messing around with her anyway, right?”
“Damn right. Rule fucking number one: don’t get involved with the enemy. You slipped up,” Fang says, his gaze holding mine, “but that’s it.”
“Yeah, just once,” I agree, trying to push the memory of Isabella’s skin against mine out of my mind. “It won’t happen again.”
“This is so fucking stupid, but I’m with you on one thing.”
“What?”
“Finding out who bought the damn thing could help us find out more about her. Maybe then we can figure out why she’s working at Velvet. Everyone’s got a weak spot. This could be hers.”
“That’s why I want to find out fast.” It’s not really the whole truth, but he’s right. This info could help us discover why a cartel leader’s sister is dancing in their rival’s strip club.
“Let me make a call,” he says, reaching for his phone and quickly sending a text to someone in his contacts list. His phone pings a few seconds later. He glances at the message before shoving his phone back into his cut. “We can meet with my antiques guy right now.”
“Let’s roll,” I say, heading for the door.
“He already knows we’re on our way.”
“Thanks, brother.”
“Shit, don’t thank me yet. If Vapor finds out about this, my ass will be in a sling, and I’ll have to kick yours for putting me in that position.”
“I know it’s fucked up, but I appreciate the help.”
“You owe me big time.”
“Not a chance.” I flash him a grin as we reach our bikes. “Now we’re even from that time I bailed you out of jail when you got shitfaced and ran naked down Bourbon Street.”
“That was the best New Year’s Eve party ever.” Fang smirks. “Guess we’re even then.”
“Only if your guy comes through.”
“He will,” Fang says, getting on his bike.
I swing my leg over mine, the leather of my cut creaking as I settle in. Every time I sit on my ride, I’m reminded of my responsibility as the club’s VP. This situation isn’t just about what happened between me and Isabella in the VIP room; my club’s safety is on the line too.
“I’ll follow you,” I say, turning the ignition. The engine roars to life, a primal call that sends shivers down my spine. I don’t look over to see if Fang’s ready. He always is.
We peel out of the shop, the world blurring into streaks of color and light as we race towards our destination. Wind tears at my hair, whipping the long strands like silver flames against the night sky. There’s a storm brewing inside me, one that’s been chasing me since Isabella’s skin burned against my own. Whatever we discover will either quell the tempest in my mind or morph it into a hurricane.
The antique shop’s rustic wooden sign looms ahead. I pull up, cutting the engine. The sudden quiet feels heavy, like the calm before a storm.
“Ready for the truth?” Fang asks, shutting off his engine too.
“Always,” I reply, but my gut twists. Truth has a price, and I’ve got a feeling this bill’s gonna be steep.