Tartlet (Turf Wars #4) Page 5

  “God, Dad, what?” I groan, head pounding after last night’s effort.

  “What the fuck is this crap you sent me?”

  “Names, numbers, locations, what the hell else do you want?”

  He looks like he’s going to bust a cap, so I sit up slowly.

  “These are names and numbers of his fucking clients! For the garage.”

  Oh.

  Well.

  Whoopsie.

  “Oops,” I mutter. “They were in the office at the club, how was I supposed to know?”

  “You think he’s just going to keep important shit lying around? You have to actually put a god damned effort in. I knew you’d fuck this up. You’re not with it enough to pull this off. You’re done.”

  I sit upright now, angry, and a little worried about him kicking me out before I can prove myself.

  “Firstly, I’m not done!” I snap. “I’ll do better, I will.”

  “I doubt that. I should have sent someone else in.”

  “Who?” I mutter. “Becky? She’s still crying after her last effort. Bradley? Oh yeah, he won’t stand out at all with that giant stick hanging out of his ass. I’m the only one, and you know it. I’ll do better, give me twenty-four hours and I’ll have something worthy.”

  “I want names and numbers of who they’re trading with. I run this fucking town and those bikers are causing more problems than I need. Get those to me in twenty-four hours or I’m pulling you out.”

  Ugh.

  “Yes, Father,” I mutter, rubbing my temples.

  “I thought you weren’t drinking and partying anymore?”

  I give him a glare. “I am getting information from a biker club, how else do you think I’m going to do that without attending that sort of stuff? I can’t just walk into the clubhouse and be like, oh hey, can I have some info?”

  His face goes a little less hard, because he has to know I’m right.

  “Check the office at the garage, it’s got less traffic and is locked up better; if he’s going to hide shit, it would be there. The club has too many visitors, and it’s too risky to keep things where people could see them.”

  He makes a valid point. There is a locked office at the garage where Riggs is always on the phone, and the receptionist is never allowed in there. Getting the key to get in could be somewhat difficult, but I’d bet Remy has it.

  “Okay, give me twenty-four hours, I’ll have something.”

  He nods and walks out.

  Not another word said.

  “Nice chat,” I mutter, climbing out of bed.

  Thank god I don’t have to work today, but I do have to figure out a way to get into that garage. Remy is opening tomorrow, which means he’d be in possession of the key, or at least, I hope he has it. I’ve seen him unlock the office. All I have to do is get to his place, get the key, and get in. Easy peasy.

  Ugh.

  I pull out my phone and glance down at the messages. As if the universe is already on my side, there is a text from Remy.

  R – When you wake up, call me. I’m ready for round two.

  Perfect.

  G – I’m ready. When and where?

  R – My place. Half an hour. Be naked.

  He flicks me the address, and I laugh at the last sentence of his text. Be naked. Oh sure, I’ll just jump out of the car naked and roll on in. I locate the address on my phone, and then I shower and put on an oversized tee. Underneath ... nothing. I sneak out of the house before anyone can see me, get into my car, and grab myself a coffee on the way to his house.

  I arrive, and I’m surprised to see he has a pretty big place. It’s a multilevel house on a beautiful street. Big yard, gorgeous gardens, it looks like a family home and not something I’d ever pick a biker living in. I get out, double check the address, and then shrug, walking up to the front door. I knock, waiting to see if I’ve got the right place. Remy opens the door, shirtless, and oh, boy, I’ve got the right place.

  “You’re not naked,” he murmurs.

  “I’m not certain your neighbors would appreciate my bare ass ruining their lovely street.”

  He grins. “I don’t think they’d mind.”

  He pushes the door open and I step inside, glancing around at the large, well-presented house.

  “This is yours?” I ask, turning back to him.

  “Yeah. You shocked?”

  “Yep. This is a house you imagine five kids running around in—it doesn’t seem like somewhere a bachelor biker would be living.”

  “Maybe I want five kids runnin’ around.”

  I raise my brows. “Am I about to get bound and gagged, dragging into your basement, and made to produce five kids for you?”

  He chuckles. “If that’s what turns you on.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “I respect my vagina, thank you very much.”

  “So do I. You’re still not naked.”

  Right.

  I take the hem of the massive shirt, lift it over my head, and throw it on the ground. “Happy?” I say, standing before him fully naked.

  “You’re the most confident woman I’ve ever met, it’s fuckin’ sexy.”

  “You know what they say, if you’ve got it, flaunt it.” I shrug. “Are you going to fuck me or are we going to talk about how sexy I am?”

  He gives me the most devilish grin and steps forward, hauling me up into his arms, legs around his hips, and he walks me to the sofa where he throws me down. He doesn’t waste a second of time getting to his knees, jerking my legs apart, and burying his face between my legs. I moan the second his tongue flicks against my clit, slowly taunting me with every single lash. I cry out, squirming beneath his firm grip, but he doesn’t release me. He eats me like I’m his last meal on death row, like he’ll never taste another pussy again in his life.

  And oh, I’m grateful.

  I find my release with a loud scream, my body jerking with every pulse of pleasure that rips through it. Only when he’s satisfied he’s had his fill does he lift his head and look down at me. “How do you want to be fucked today?”

  “I want to return the favor, first,” I murmur, staring at the bulge in his pants.

  I push up and go forward until I’m on my knees, then I take the elastic of his pants and jerk them down, freeing his cock. It’s hard and red, and oh, it looks good. I lick my lips, glance up, and him and then lower my head until my mouth curls around the tip. He growls, fingers tangling in my hair as I stretch my mouth wider, taking him deeper, bobbing my head up and down until I’m nearly gagging from the length alone.

  His growls spur me on, making me want more, making me want to hear his growls as he releases into my throat.

  But he pushes me away with a hiss. “I won’t last you keep doin’ that.”

  I bite my lip and look up at him. “I was enjoying it.”

  “Keep biting that lip and it’ll be over.”

  I grin.

  He curls his hand around my throat, gently, thumb trailing over my skin. “You like it rough, sweetheart?”

  “I like it however the hell you give it.”

  His eyes flash and he tightens his grip on my throat as he lays me down onto the sofa, his body falling over mine. He grinds his hips, pushing his cock against me, and I whimper. He releases my throat long enough to put a condom on, and then he’s got that hand around it again as he pushes into me, hard and fast. I cry out, clutching his shoulders as I stretch around him. My fingernails dig into his flesh as pleasure fills my body.

  “God, yes,” I scream, arching my back, hooking my legs around his hips to try and get him closer, deeper. I need him.

  I need so god damned much of him.

  He squeezes until the air in my lungs starts getting harder and harder to find, and that sends a thrill through my body that I’ve never felt before, a danger that keeps me on the edge, it feels like I could pass out any second, and that feeling is enough to bring the best orgasm of my life to the surface. I scream, and those screams are cut off as his hand squ
eezes tighter.

  He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he fucks me and my vision starts to blur. I’m screaming, moaning, thrashing, and he’s riding me so god damned hard the sofa is squeaking across the floor. He cums with a grunt, releasing his hand as he does, and my gasp of air can be heard above our moans.

  His sweat glistened body falls over mine and we’re both panting, me a whole lot more than he is. My throat burns, yet my body throbs from the release. A release unlike any other I’ve felt before. I loved every second of that, and my god do I want more.

  “You good?” he asks, pushing off me.

  “Yeah,” I croak.

  “You’re not hurt?”

  “No.”

  He stares down at my naked body. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

  Nobody has ever called me beautiful before. Seems stupid, really, that I’d notice that, but it’s the truth. I’ve been called hot, sexy, gorgeous, but never beautiful. I smile up at him, and in a whispered voice, I thank him.

  “I’m goin’ to have a shower, care to join?”

  I’d love to join, oh would I love to join, but I need to find the key to the garage so I can get what I need.

  “I’m going to lay here and recover for a second.” I grin.

  “Have it your way.”

  He turns and walks out, fine ass on display as he leaves. Once he’s gone, I get to my feet and clean up as best I can before pulling my shirt back on. I’ll use the bathroom in a second, but right now I need to find that key. Once I hear the shower start, I rush to the kitchen. This is where most keys are kept. I look around on the benches but can’t find anything. I open a few drawers, nothing.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, rushing out and going to the stand beside the front door.

  Just my luck, there is a drawer full of keys. His truck keys are noticeable, but I have no idea which one belongs to the garage. I pick up a few, one is labeled the house key, the other for his lockable shed in the yard. Finally, I pick up one that says garage. It has three different keys on it, but I stuff it into my purse anyway, praying he doesn’t need these keys today because if he does, I’m screwed.

  I go into the downstairs bathroom and clean up, making it out just in time for him to come out, dressed this time, hair wet. He smells incredible as he walks past, and my mind immediately goes to the incredible sex we just had.

  “Busy day ahead?” I ask, standing and grabbing my purse.

  I’m not going to outstay my welcome.

  “Don’t have to run out the door,” he murmurs, “I have plenty more where that came from.”

  I smile. “Tempting, but I’ve got plans.”

  “That so?”

  “Mmmm,” I say as he steps closer, those hooded eyes making me really want to change my plans. “I’m sure you do, too.”

  “Got a ride in a few hours, otherwise my day is free.”

  “Not going to the garage?” I ask.

  “Fuck no, bad enough I gotta go in there tomorrow to get that car done before Monday. I’m not lookin’ at it today.”

  I laugh. “Fair call.”

  Thank god. That means I can get in and out without him noticing. Now, to get the keys back.

  “When will you be back from your ride?” I ask, grinning up at him.

  “Why, you goin’ to be here?”

  “Can be if you want me to be.”

  “I’m down for that. I’ll be back at three.”

  “Well,” I say, giving him a wink as I turn toward the door, “I’ll see you then.”

  “You’re somethin’ else, Gabby,” he calls out to me just before I open the door.

  “Oh, I know.”

  He doesn’t even know the half of it.

  Poor guy.

  THANKFULLY, I PAID attention to where the cameras at the garage are—a month or so ago some crazy bitch tried to burn it down and there was a shit load of damage, so for now, they’re working out of only half of it. The other half is nearly repaired, but because of that, they installed cameras. If you go through the backdoor, though, there are none. They only face the front.

  There is a key that opens the backdoor as this is the one we use to get in on early shifts. I carefully go in after the lunchtime rush at Wildflowers, when things are a whole lot quieter. The clubhouse is literally right there, so it’s somewhat of a mission to sneak in without being seen, but I manage. Everyone is tired after last night, so the house is quiet and nobody seems to be around. Still, I have to be very careful. As soon as I’m in, I close the door and lock it again and then rush into the reception area. As far as I know there are no cameras in here, but before I step in, I have a good glance around just to be sure.

  Doesn’t look like it.

  I’ve only seen screens for the cameras out front and there is also one inside the garage that the guys turn off when they’re working. Still, I can’t be too sure. Once I’m certain it’s clear, I go to the large office at the back and use the keys, praying one of them unlocks it. It does and, in seconds, I’m inside. I carefully close the door behind me and look around. It’s a very neat office, and Riggs is always working in here, more so than the club. There are locked drawers and filing cabinets, as well as a safe.

  I know he keeps money from out front in the safe, here’s hoping he doesn’t keep all the information I need in there, too.

  There is one more key on the key chain, and considering the roller doors in the garage open with push buttons inside, I figure the last one must unlock something in the office. I’m wrong, it unlocks nothing, meaning it must be for the front door. Frustrated, I start searching around for a key to unlock the filing cabinet. It takes me a good twenty minutes, but I finally find a stash of keys hanging off a bookshelf. I use them and, thankfully, they unlock the cabinet.

  There is nothing in there but customers files. Frustrated, I dig through to no avail. There is nothing in there that’s helpful. I go to the desk next, rifling through the papers. There isn’t much, but in the last pile, right at the bottom, I do find an invoice. It stands out because it’s for a customer, but the items on the list aren’t something that are usually written on an invoice. The description states it was a service of goods and transport of essentials.

  I’ve not seen an invoice state that. Usually, the garage invoices are broken down into categories of what is done to that particular car. This is just one statement, and the amount is a lot, like more than I’ve seen charged. I take a photo of it, and then I go back to the filing cabinet and find the file for that customer’s name.

  Bingo.

  When I open it, there are invoices but all of them are odd. Strange descriptions that could be explained away as garage stuff, but also way too high in amounts to fit the bill. Whoever this customer is, they’re dealing with him by running things through the garage, but they’re certainly not fixing any cars. I take photos of everything in the file, from receipts to phone numbers and even the address of said person.

  If I’m right, then Riggs is smart as hell because running any illegal shit through his business keeps his nose clean. It’s genius. I would imagine he has plenty of other customers hidden in this mix who he is doing the same thing with. Way to get dirty money clean, hide transactions, and do your business without getting caught. I take snapshots and then put everything back just the way I found it.

  I am just finished locking the office when I hear the backdoor open. Freaking out, I rush around the side of the reception desk, climbing in underneath it just in time to hear the office door open and male voices fill the space. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know where you put them?”

  There is no missing Riggs’ voice, it’s obvious, and it’s angry.

  “I don’t know brother, I thought I brought them back home with me yesterday but fucked if I can find them, must have left them in here somewhere.”

  That’s Remy’s voice.

  They’re looking for the keys.

  Fuck.

  I glance down at them in my hand and close my eyes, praying
to god they don’t come searching at the reception desk; if they do, this is all over.

  “I’ll check the garage,” Riggs mutters. “You search in here.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Think, Gabby.

  An idea springs to my mind, and I quietly pull out my phone as I hear Remy shuffling about near the filing cabinets in this office. I flick it onto silent and then text Remy.

  G – Hey, are you missing some keys? I found some on the ground last night before you took off from Wildflowers. I forgot to ask you this morning.

  It’s a risk, but it’s the only way I’m not getting busted right now. I hear Remy’s phone ping and then I hear him pause. I close my eyes, holding my breath. I keep my eyes on my phone, watching as he replies.

  R – Is there three on the keyring?

  G – Yeah. They yours?

  R – Yep. Thank fuck. I’ll grab them this afternoon.

  G – Looking forward to it.

  I exhale as Remy yells out loudly, telling Riggs that he’s got them and it’s all good. A moment later, Riggs’ voice fills the space.

  “Gabby has them,” Remy informs him. “Dropped them last night.”

  “How the fuck did Gabby end up with them?”

  “I was meetin’ up with her.”

  “For what?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Fuck me, brother. You ridin’ her already? You gotta chill with the fuckin’ women.”

  Remy snorts. “Comin’ from you. Until you met Eve, you were hitting anything that moved.”

  “Yeah, I hear you, but you’re really goin’ to the next level. She’s an employee of ours, you’re runnin’ the risk of things goin’ to shit.”

  I’m an employee? That means they’re keeping me on, right?

  I want to scream, but I don’t, I focus on breathing really quietly and not moving.

  “She’s cool, Pres. You gotta trust me on that.”

  Aw, he thinks I’m cool?

  “You know anything about her?”

  “Why do I need to know shit about her?” Remy questions, his voice gruff.

  “You saw what happened to Beckett.”

  “I’m good. Let’s go, I gotta be back by three.”