Chapter 8
LOCKE
I have to admit, it was amusing seeing the shock wash over her face when she realized I was there. Waiting in the stairwell like some kind of psycho. Am I some kind of psycho?
That’s something I’ve asked myself one too many times.
I push that thought aside as we approach the diner.
Arden insisted we walk, not drive, as she led me to the nearest hole in the wall.
I can’t blame her for not wanting to get in a car with me after that stunt.
I’m still following her as she walks through the grimy double doors and straight to a corner booth near the back of the restaurant. Interesting, she wants us secluded.
We take our seats on opposite sides of the booth; she claims the side facing the door.
Her eyes scan the small restaurant, alert to every movement.
She’s on edge but calculated. She looks like a woman who knows what she’s doing.
I get a sense that she’s noted where the exits are, and even with the diner’s hum around us, she’s ready to bolt if she needs to.
A server comes to the table with a coffeepot already in hand and the smell of stale cigarettes riding her clothes. She doesn’t smile as she asks, “Coffee?" We both nod as she pours two cups, drops two laminated menus, and disappears back toward the kitchen.
Neither of us is eager to break the silence. So, I stay quiet, studying Arden’s face.
She’s radiant. A few freckles scatter over her warm, honey-toned nose and cheeks.
Her black hair flows in effortless waves past her shoulders, occasionally falling into her eyes.
A minor distraction she casually brushes aside.
And those eyes, a piercing shade of blue, stand out above all her other features.
Every detail, even that slightly crooked grin that lifts her soft, full lips, works.
She’s stunning, but not in a perfect, untouchable way. It’s effortless. Real.
Her brow furrows. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I realize I must look crazy. Again. I snap out of it, shaking my head, and finally find my voice. “I brought you here so we could chat about a minor problem I’m having with a client.”
“Oh?” She leans back in the booth, crossing her arms. “And which celebrity has fallen upon such misfortune that you need help from someone like me?”
That stops me mid-thought. “Wait, how do you know what I do for a living?”
“Let’s just say I know how to spot an easy mark,” she replies, examining her nails as if she’s already bored.
Her eyes flick up, and I suddenly feel as if she’s cataloging every detail about me. Of course she is. I bet she’s been doing it since the moment we met.
I regain focus, continuing, “My client… a musician… he’s been making headlines a lot lately. Mostly for the wrong reasons.”
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. Her eyebrows rise as if she’s suddenly more interested.
“He got into a fight at an awards show last week,” I continue. “It’s been on every gossip site for days. And he used to be best friends with this actor. I mean, they were inseparable.”
Arden gives me a confused look. “And that’s relevant how?”
“Well, they’re not anymore. The actor claims he has video proof of something bad the rock star did. Something that’ll go viral the second it hits the internet. He’s trying to ruin my client’s career.”
Arden’s eyes narrow thoughtfully.
“And if that video gets out,” I add, “his entire team is screwed. Including me.”
She sits for a moment, staring straight ahead, her gaze drifting past me to some unknown point in the distance. Then her eyes go wide.
“Wait.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Jaxon Wilde.”
I blink at her. “Did you hear anything else I said?”
She ignores the question completely, leaning forward with both palms flat on the table. “Jaxon. Fucking. Wilde?”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Yes, congratulations. You cracked the case.”
She leans back again, looking like she’s just won the lottery. But then her eyes go dark. “Okay… but how am I supposed to help?”
“I just need access to the actor,” I say. “We have a history. There’s no way he’s letting me anywhere near him. I need someone to get close to him, gain his trust, and get access to his devices so we can delete the video.”
She nods once, then tilts her head. “I’m not sure I actually want to know, but what’s in the video?”
“Jaxon isn’t positive, but he thinks it’s a video from a drunken night at a club a couple of years back,” I start. “An underage girl got mixed up with them, which is not unusual for this actor. He finds them everywhere he goes and loves to take advantage of their star-struck nature.”
I pause, watching her reaction turn from vague interest to fiery rage.
“So, I guess the actor got some footage of Jaxon with this girl that could paint him in a poor light. He didn’t give me any details. I’m actually not sure if he remembers. He claims it’s a setup.”
She nods again, taking everything in.
“And what if he’s lying?”
“That’s beside the point. He’s my client. He pays me to keep his reputation clean. It’s not my job to figure out if he’s being truthful.”
Her brow furrows, and she stares down at the floor. I guess she didn’t like that answer, but it’s the truth.
When she finally looks back up at me, I still see a flicker of interest in her eyes. “How much?”
I laugh, a wicked smile creeping across my lips. “See, that’s the thing. I already paid you.” I reach into my jacket to pull out the watch she stole from me two days ago.
Her expression doesn’t change, but I catch a subtle shift in her body language. She tries to hide a sharp inhale. Her grip tightens around her coffee mug. Her throat bobs once, hard.
Those blue eyes flick over the watch, then to my face, like she’s running the math on every mistake she’s ever made.
I continue, “Consider it settling the debt you created when you decided to take something personal along with this.”
She looks down at the table again. Is that guilt darkening her features, or confusion? I let her sit like that for what seems like an eternity before I finally speak again.
If this doesn’t convince her, I’m not sure what will. “Come on, you want more than this, don’t you?”
She looks me dead in the eye, maybe for the first time. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
I exhale softly. I know she’s going to deny it.
“You could’ve picked a hundred different ways to make money, but you didn’t.
You slip into upscale clubs and look for the best targets.
The ones who have influence or any semblance of power.
You don’t even steal cash; you look for things that hold some weight. ”
I let the silence linger for just a moment. Long enough for her to feel it. Letting the tension build. “You don’t just want money; you want a way in. A different life. More luxury, more power, maybe just more comfort. This is your chance.”
She scoffs, but I notice the way her throat bobs. The way she clenches her jaw. “That’s ridiculous. Not everyone wants to be like you.”
I lean back against the booth seat, folding my arms across my chest. “Is it? Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, to me.”
Then I say the only thing I think might stick: “Work with me and you won’t have to slip in anymore. You’ll be part of that world. The parties, the travel. Where Wilde goes, I go. And where I go…”
I let her finish that sentence for herself and watch as the realization washes over her. I know I’m right. It’s written all over her face.