Chasing Thunder (25 page)

“So your parents raised her?”

Richard nodded. “And did it a damn sight better than I could have. God, she loved her grandpa. My Pops was a big old teddy bear, even though he looked like one of the Hell’s Angels. He was smitten from the moment he first held her in his arms. So there was no way he’d turn us away when she needed him. She knew that. She responded to it. Even when I showed up that first year, to take her to the park, to take her to the ocean, she wanted to be with him. He knew what she needed. And most of all, he could keep her safe. So I walked away and kept walking.” Richard chugged his beer. “She’s never let me forget it.”

Llewellyn put two and two together. “So while you rose in the ranks as a highly decorated police officer . . .”

Richard finished his thought. “Pops was father of the year.”

“She’s an adult now. Surely she’d understand.”

Richard shook his head. “It’s better this way. I was never cut out to be a dad.” He trailed off and Llewellyn waited. “When Marty died and I realized how easy it was to lose everything, I knew I wasn’t strong enough to stick my neck out there again. This is where I belong. Protecting others. It was what I was born to do.”

“Apparently what M.J. was born to do, too,” Llewellyn pointed out. “She doesn’t have a badge, but her whole life, as I understand it, is to protect and defend.”

Richard chuckled softly. “She got that from her Pops, too. Maybe we all did. But she’s got something else. Something wild. Something untamed. Following rules, taking orders, all of that would drive her bananas.” He offered an absent smile. “She got that from her mom.”

“So you’re really going to tail her?”

Richard’s eyes met his. “What other choice do we have?”

As if in answer, Richard’s cell phone rang. He picked it up and barked, “Yeah?” His face grew stoic and unreadable as he listened. “Thanks for calling,” he said before he disconnected the call. He was out of the chair in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” Llewellyn asked as he hopped up and followed him out of the bar.

“They found a work suit for Slick in a dumpster in Hollywood.”

M.J. was already making her rounds, cruising on her bike along the boulevard. Finally she spotted a familiar face, and she pulled to a stop at the curb. She dismounted and made her way toward a striking African-American transgender woman with long dark hair and model-like features. She was unaware of M.J.’s approach as she lit up a cigarette.

“That shit will kill you, you know.” M.J. smiled.

“Girl, what won’t?” Marilyn shot back. “What have you been up to?”

“Raising hell and kicking ass. The usual.” Marilyn chuckled. “I actually have a problem, and I think you can help me.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “You know that.”

They shared a knowing smile. After a decade on the Strip, they were comrades fighting similar wars. “I’m looking for a pimp. Small-time, like bus stations and such. He’s young, and the only thing I know about him is that he has red hair and a prostitute named Tammy. Heard of them?”

Marilyn thought it over. “How old?”

“She’s underage. Not sure about him.”

She pursed her lips. “Not familiar with the babies. But red hair does ring a bell. Like a carrot?”

M.J. nodded.

“Hutch was saying something about a kid owing Donny a lot of money. He was tasked to go find him. That was a defining characteristic. I can call him if you want.”

M.J. shook her head and turned toward her bike. “I’ll go straight to the source.”

Ten minutes later she was at the back entrance of a seedy building south of Santa Monica Boulevard. She knocked twice and a peep window opened. “What’s the code?”

“Open the door before I kick your fucking ass in,” she said.

The locks gave way and a big, burly guy with more hair on his chest than on his head opened the door. “Shit, M.J. Why didn’t you say it was you?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. Donny in?”

The big guy led her to a dark office where a balding Greek sat behind stacks of paperwork. He glanced up, took notice of his visitor, then snickered and looked back down at his books. “To what do I owe the honor?”

She perched on his desk. They weren’t necessarily friends, but occasionally he came in handy. She’d even helped him track down some of his delinquent accounts a time or two. It was a professional courtesy that kept the biggest bail bondsman in town in her debt. “I’m looking for somebody.”

“Who isn’t?”

“He’s a pimp. He owes you money.”

Donny’s bushy eyebrow arched. “Who doesn’t?”

“I need to find him for my own reasons. You help me locate him and I’ll pay off his debt.”

Donny’s eyes narrowed. That was new. “What do you wanna help a punk kid like that for? Don’t you know he regularly recruits underage girls?”

“Let’s just say I’m trying to intercept the next one.”

Donny leaned back in his chair. “No skin off my nose. If anyone can find him, it’s probably you. But he’s a slippery little sonofabitch. Don’t trust anything that fucker says.”

She smiled sweetly. “Donny, when have I ever trusted anything anyone has ever said?”

He laughed. “Good point, I guess.” He rifled through a stack on his desk until he finally found a small piece of paper with handwriting on it. “His name is Billy Pruitt. He worked for me a while when he first hit town about five years ago. That was until he got his first girl, which was a lot more fun for him than being my little messenger. He used to hang out at the bus depot, going in between here and San Diego, Phoenix, and Vegas. But now that I’m onto him, he usually lets his girls do the dirty work for him. From what I can gather, he hops between motels and abandoned buildings. Good luck figuring out which ones.”

She smirked. “Don’t you have any faith in me, Donny?”

“I have faith that you’ll hear this. You can either bring me my money or bring me his ass. He will pay one way or the other.”

“Whatever you say,” she offered amicably. “Boss,” she added for good measure.

She headed out again, this time aiming her bike for the industrial section of Hollywood.

Baby found Snake sitting in an Adirondack chair on the back deck. He was nursing a beer and staring into the citronella candle burning on the table. “Hey,” she said softly as she joined him. She offered him a piece of the pie they had picked up on the way home.

He gave her a warm smile. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said.

She sat in the other chair. “I wanted to. It’s a big deal to me that you let me work with you in the shop today. I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Baby,” he said. “You’re a sweetheart. It’s a joy to have you around.”

She warmed under his praise. “Thanks. I know it’s not the same as having M.J. around, though.”

He shrugged. “You can’t always get what you want.”

She touched his hand with hers. “But you should,” she said quietly. Just as she was rising from her seat, Kid burst out of the back door with his laptop in his hands. He looked positively frantic. Alarmed, she asked, “What’s the matter?”

He glanced between his brother and this girl he had been charged to protect. There was no way to be delicate. Like it or not, they were all in this together. “Fuck it,” he said, bringing the laptop to the table. He had pulled up the website for PING, a notorious gossip organization determined to find relevancy by being the first to break any news they could.

CLUE FOUND FOR HARD CANDY KILLER!

“What is this?” asked Snake.

“Maddy heard it on his police scanner about thirty minutes ago. These fuckers jumped right in. It’s security camera footage of that missing girl. She’s changing in the back of a used clothes store on Fountain, ditching some work clothes or something.”

He zoomed in on the photo. It was clearly Tammy stepping out of the black work suit. Snake’s stomach dropped. “When was this taken?”

“Sometime last night. Apparently the alarms went off, so they reviewed the tapes. This is what they found. She could be anywhere now.”

Baby wilted back into her chair and both guys looked at her. “You okay?” Snake asked.

She nodded, but looked green.

“You wanna talk about it?” Snake asked gently.

In a flash, she saw Isbecky’s face looming over hers. If she told Snake, he’d likely call the police. If the police were called, they’d likely want to know where she had been and who she had seen, and she just didn’t see that working out well for anyone. She shook her head and disappeared at once back in the house.

Snake and Kid shared a look before sinking back into their own chairs.

M.J. climbed to the top floor of an abandoned warehouse. Scattered homeless kids slept or congregated in small, drug-enhanced groups. They regarded her with suspicion but didn’t say anything as she made her way around the room. She certainly didn’t look like a cop or a parent, so they were content to wait and see if she would start any shit before doing anything.

She glanced over everyone until she saw light dancing off a bright red crew cut on a sleeping man in the corner. As she drew closer, she spotted the denim hobo bag his head was rested upon. Gently she eased it out under his head, but he immediately woke up and grabbed hold of her arm. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“This bag does nothing for your outfit, precious. You should fire your personal stylist immediately.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. “Who are you?”

“A friend of a friend,” she assured, refusing to let go of the purse. Finally she said, “Donny sent me.”

That piece of information set the redheaded man reeling. “I told him I’d have his money for him by the first of the month.”

She clicked her tongue. “Yeah, about that. He wants it now.”

“I don’t have it now,” he insisted.

“Then what’s in the bag?”

“Nothing!” There was a pause. “It belongs to a friend.”

“Tammy?” M.J. asked, and his eyes widened.

“You know Tammy?”

“We met briefly,” she assured him. “I need you to help me find her.”

He let go of the bag and dropped back on the floor. “I don’t know where she is, man. I haven’t seen her in days.”