Chapter 17
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 read Vicious , 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 Old Montreal 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.”
“Well, get her in bed and get past it so you can get your head back on real business,” Player suggested as Vicious slapped his hand on the door.
Vicious walked back toward the restaurant as Player pulled away. Stepping inside the establishment, he didn’t miss the looks the patrons shot his way. Ignoring all of them and the hostess, he headed straight for the little table in the window. Shrugging off his leather jacket, he hung it on the chair and sat down. “Hello, Sway.”
“Vicious.” She liked the way the sound of his name rolled across her tongue. “Why have you been following me?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. I think honesty is best. ”
Vicious eased back in his chair. Taking a moment to look around, he waved over the hostess. When the girl stepped up, he asked for the server. “While we’re waiting for the server, I’ll give you some of that honesty you want. Jerome Michel. How much do you know about him?” Sway needed to know whether Jerome was involved with the men who attacked her.
The server walked over, cutting off the conversation. It gave Sway a moment to think about her answer.
“Can I get a scotch? Monkey Shoulder, if you have it,” Vicious ordered. When the server walked away, he looked at Sway.
“He’s a snake. Jerome and my brother were mates in school. Jerome is trouble.”
“You said he’s the reason your brother died.”
Sway noticed he’d been paying attention, keeping mental notes about her. The man must have been watching her longer than she knew. She didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved that someone was looking out for her. “The night my brother was attacked and left for dead, Tesh said he was coming to the clubhouse for a poker game. Did he ever arrive there?”
“No. Tesh never made it to the game.”
Sway nodded as she toyed with her wine glass. “I begged Tesh not to go. Something in my gut said he had something else going on.”
“Why did you think that?”
“We’d been hassled by men trying to extort money from us for protection. ”
“Those men are the ones who hurt you.” He watched Sway raise her hand and touch the scar on her face. It was fading, but still, it was there, reminding her how close she came to possibly dying.
Sway looked at Vicious. He wanted to know about Jerome, but she’d tell him what she knew about the night Tesh died. “Jerome was the only witness to what happened to my brother. And Tesh never regained consciousness, so I won’t ever know unless Jerome tells me.”
She brushed her fingers gently over the scar. “The two men were dirty, smelling of booze and pot. One watched the door, and the other . . . did this.” She pointed to the scar. “They wanted me to know they’d be around every month for money.”
Vicious didn’t like what he was hearing. “Have they come back since that night?”
“Not yet. But every day, I worry they’ll show up and hurt me again or one of my employees.”
“Could you describe the two men?”
“Possibly. I did see a logo on one of their jackets. It was green. Maybe a snake. I’m not positive.”
“Could it have been a Scorpion?”
“Maybe.”
Vicious was putting a few things together. That little weasel might be in bed with the Bloody Scorpions. He came across as a bumbling fool wanting to hang around the clubs, but his gut said Jerome was in bed with Dawson Franks, and that they both had a hand in what had happened to Tesh. It also made him think the two were behind more than one hit on the businesses the chapter owned.
If Vicious found out the fucker was behind what happened to Sway, he’d do worse to Jerome. “I’ll have to keep my eyes on you, beautiful. You and your brother may have been unwilling participants in something to do with the Bloody Scorpions.”
That was just great , Sway thought. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried stemming the tears, but she was just exhausted. “Are the Bloody Scorpions a motorcycle gang?”
“Club.”
“What?”
“It’s a club, not a gang. To answer your question, the Scorpions are a gang, not a motorcycle club.” Vicious reached across the table, taking her hand in his.
“So, what you’re saying is they’re just thugs, unlike you.”
If she meant it as an insult, she would have to try harder. “I’m not a thug, sweetheart.”
“You’re an outlaw,” she said with a smirk. That he was.
The amber light cast shadows across Vicious’s face, making him appear even more dangerous. Sway licked her lips as she stared into his green eyes. Something about the man made her edgy. She could blame her attraction to him on her dry spell. But if she was honest, it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact he was a mystery and dangerous. Both things intrigued her. His hand reached across the small table, gripping hers. The feeling of his thumb rubbing small circles along the back of it set off butterflies .
What would it be like to take home a man like Vicious? What would he expect? “You’re deep in thought,” he said. How could she not be with her hand in his and those green eyes staring into her soul. Was she nervous? NO. She was interested, was all.
“I’m thinking about you.”
“What about me has you so perplexed? I’m just a guy having dinner with a beautiful woman.”
Sway leaned back in the chair. Tugging her hand free, she dropped them into her lap. He was smooth. Too smooth for her liking. He probably had a line of women waiting to climb into his bed. “What is it you want from me, Vicious?”
Vicious remained silent as the server brought his drink over. When the girl asked for their order in French, he replied accordingly. He knew the area, so he knew the preferred language was French. Even in the current era, there was still an undertone of tension between the two sides. He ordered for both of them, and when Sway cocked a look at him, Vicious smirked.
“How do you know I like pasta?”
“Let’s see. You came into an Italian restaurant. You ordered a merlot, which pairs nicely with any pasta dish or steak. But the giveaway, Sway, is those beautiful hips of yours.” He saw the look on her face and chuckled. He was sure she’d never been out with a man like him.
“No woman who has a figure like yours eats fucking rabbit food.” He saw the flush of red rise from beneath her collar, run up her neck, and settle in her cheeks. Leaning forward, Vicious continued his description of her lush curves and what he wanted to do with her. “Not to mention you have a great rack. I wonder if you’ll blush when I bury my face in your tits.”
If her legs hadn’t been crossed, she’d cross them now. Tightening her thighs, she applied pressure to her already throbbing clit. She watched his tongue glide over his bottom lip and she almost sighed. “Don’t squeeze those legs too tight, baby, you might come right here.”
“You’re crude.”
“And you’re annoyed that you like it.”
Was she annoyed by that mere fact? How would he know how she felt? “It takes more than crude words and sexy eyes to get me off . . . baby.” She enunciated the word ‘baby’ just as he had. Two could play this game.
“I promise I’ll have you begging as your back arches and cum drips from your pussy.” He was worked-up now. He should have left his damn ass in the truck. It was better for him to stay clear of women who knew nothing about the club life. Because once he tasted Sway, she’d be his, and the life he led wasn’t an easy one. And it wasn’t one you ever stepped away from. It was hard, dangerous, and unpredictable, like he was as he sat across from her.
Sway couldn’t take her eyes off Vicious. She was tired of being lonely, tired of being careful. She wanted to feel alive. She wanted to feel like a woman, not a mechanic. “That’s a bold statement. Can you back those words up with action?”
The server walked up at that precise moment, but Vicious didn’t look away. It was like being in a trap. One she didn’t want to be free of. “Can we get to-go containers and the check, please?”
“Ouais.”
Vicious waited until the waitress walked off before he spoke. “You better be sure, Sway. I’m not some college boy who doesn’t know what fucking is. I’m a man, and I know exactly what I want and how I want it.”
“I’m not looking for some college boy. I want a man. I want to be turned-on so much that my back arches and I come so hard, it soaks my thighs.” She watched his eyes go dark and knew her words hit home. She wanted everything he was promising and more.
The server dropped off the boxes and the check, then scurried away. Sway hadn’t seen the girl standing at the table as she spoke. “I think you may have shocked our server, Sway.” Vicious smirked.
“She’s just jealous.”
Vicious tossed cash on the table as Sway picked up the food containers. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he whispered in her ear, “I can’t wait to spread you wide open and lick you from ass to pussy.” He felt her shiver and knew it wasn’t from the cold.