Sweet Revenge (The Nighthawks MC Book 2) Read online

  Daisy shared a file with Lily, “Kid gave mom a list of schools he wanted to attend. An email. He listed three. She picked the bottom one and emailed it back —just the name of the school, nothing else. He was gone two weeks later.”

  Lily’s voice was sad, “How old was he?”

  “Twelve,” said Daisy, “he’s fourteen now. Smart kid. Gets pretty good grades. On the sculling team.”

  “Sculling? Rowing a long canoe-thing? In Arizona?”

  “School has a little lake in the back.”

  “Nice work if you can get it,” said Lily, “at least he’s safe from Mama and Papa.”

  “Your boy Ace, real name Aiden, got disowned, kicked out at sixteen. He’s twenty-six now. He had a trust fund set up when he was a baby. Mama and Papa tried to break the trust, but it stayed intact. He started getting payouts at twenty-five. Seems like he and baby brother are close. Mama and Papa Bear haven’t been down once to see him. Not for parent’s night, or school plays, or anything. I have Mama and Papa at some sort of art auction dinner both this year and last year on parent’s night. The kid only goes home for a week or two a year at the most.”

  “Fuck them,” said Lily, “we’ll get this data here in a pile and insinuate stuff to the FBI.”

  “FBI?” said Daisy, “oh, yeah, the Arizona property thing. There’s actually two pieces of land the company supposedly bought, and Mama’s company bought each one and sold it to Papa’s company… for a profit, supposedly for improvements, but Google Earth shows diddly and squat built there.”

  Lily looked at the clock, “Hot damn. Gotta jet. Thanks for the info, sister.”

  “Anytime. Tell your boy to hook me up with this Jannie person. I need to add to my rig.”

  Lily wondered where her friend would add more screens if that was what she was looking for, “Will do.” She cut the call.

  Lily showered, dressed, put on makeup, and was out of there in less than fifteen minutes.

  Ace was taking the beer out of the cooler when she arrived. Lily kissed him, then started talking, machine-gun style.

  “Someone’s diddling the books at your dad’s company, and money is going to the Cayman Islands. Your dad is screwing two females, and your mom is diddling her business partner. Don’t know if one or both of them is involved.”

  Ace filled up the bar beer cooler as she talked, “My dad’s a hound dog, always has been. He hates my mom, probably because she made the 3D thing and made more money in a week than he ever will. Daniela knows he hates her, and she hates him right back.”

  Lily wiped down the bottles for him with a clean bar rag, “Why the fuck don’t they get divorced?”

  Ace snorted, “I think it is because the companies are intertwined. Daniela's 3D printing company is a subsidiary of my dad’s company. It’s the cash cow, and Braden will come down like the wrath of God on her if she ever tried to leave.”

  “Then, doesn’t she have the power?” asked Lily, passing bottles over to fill up the second cooler.

  “They also have an ironclad prenup. Their affairs mean that they won’t get squat of each other’s stuff if they divorce.”

  “That’s a dangerous situation,” said Lily.

  “It is,” said Ace, “that’s why Kieran is in Arizona.”

  Lily gave him a quick kiss and went off to do her side work, glad he was taking the news of the embezzlement so well.

  Hours later, Flight Train, doing a Guns N’ Roses tribute set, followed Night Train with Sweet Child of Mine. Slash may not have been there, but their guitarist could thrash. He and Bella could barely keep up, even with Lily pouring some of her own drinks. Ace was seriously thinking about asking her to be a night bartender; she was an amazing cocktail server, but she was running her feet off. He had just filled both Lily and Starr’s trays when Bella poked him in the ribs with an elbow.

  “Fuzz is here.”

  Sure enough, two detectives were making their way over. One was a short, stocky Hispanic woman with definite cop eyes. The other one looked like a schlump, a tall guy making himself look smaller, his brown hair sticking out. They both wore navy suits, but the woman’s suit was darker and shiner. They made a beeline for the bar.

  “Bella,” said Ace, “get Ivy over here to tend bar. Now!”

  Bella finger-flicked Adam, who finger-flicked Ivy, at a table with her back to Ace. She looked over and saw the cops, and began making her way past the head-bangers on the dance floor.

  The cops made it through the crowd to Ace. Ace pulled out two sealed bottles of water, put them on the bar, and took one for himself.

  “Can I help you?” he said.

  “Ace Dolan?”

  Ace nodded, “That’s me. Want some water?”

  The Hispanic cop took one, opened it, slugged it down, “Thanks,” she said.

  “No problem,” said Ace. Ivy arrived and began slinging drinks, her smile wide.

  “Can we go somewhere less loud?” said the schlump cop, ignoring the water. Ivy tilted her head, giving permission to use her office.

  They went out of the bar and followed the wall to the back. The office was curved, as it was against an outside wall, but surprisingly roomy. Ivy had a desk with a laptop, a printer/copier, and a business phone on the desk. A file cabinet took up space next to the desk. The desk chair was leather, and so was the couch, which turned into a bed if Ivy didn’t feel like taking the ride home. The walls were covered with rock band posters and some framed pictures of rock gods.

  “Have a seat,” said Ace, leaning on the desk.

  “I’m Alvarez, and this is Stone,” said the woman cop, and they flashed their badges, “where were you, since the time you got up until now?”

  Ace nodded, “Got up way too early because Henry wanted me to look at a bike at the club. He’s a Paiute and it’s a trek to the club for him, so I dragged my ass out of bed and went to the club. Got there by nine.”

  “The Nighthawks one, the one on Trop?”

  Ace nodded, “We got the computers for the school and Henry signed for them and I set them up.”

  “What school?” asked Alvarez.

  “We’re setting up a home school for a couple of the families who work swing and graveyard. Got us a certified teacher and everything… Henry, in fact.”

  “Then what?” asked Alvarez, as Stone bent himself in half and sat on the couch.

  “I was up early, so I was hungry. Ended up cooking breakfast for about ten of us, and the kids in the daycare got some snacks. Then, about five of us took a ride to Boulder City. We ate at Sam’s.”

  Sam’s had huge burgers and twisty fries. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his leather wallet that was chained to his belt loops. He fished out a receipt for Sam’s and another for gas. Alvarez took note of the times, took a picture of each with her phone, and handed them back.

  “Henry and I picked up the dancers at the college, and I was here about five thirty. Set up, got a bite to eat, let the band in, opened at six.”

  “So, you were never out of someone’s sight from nine am until now?”

  “Nope,” said Ace, “I’ve answered your questions. What is this about?”

  “When was the last time you spoke to your father?” asked Alvarez.

  “The day he smashed my face in while throwing me out the door. I was sixteen, and I’d dropped out of Junior Achievement. Didn’t see a purpose to talking to him after that.”

  “Nothing since? Not since you were emancipated?”

  “Nope,” he said, “went to live with my uncle in Reno, got my associate’s there, learned how to tend bar. Bought a bike, and found other people who liked to ride them. And now you have my life story, and you still haven’t told me what this is about.”

  “You have two guns registered to you, a Glock .22, a Sig Sauer P238, and a concealed carry permit. Any more guns?”

  “No,” he said, “the Glock is locked up when it’s not in a holster; I only carry it on long rides. The Sig Sauer is locked up at the gun club on T
rop.”

  Stone finally spoke, “Inside the waist or ankle holster?”

  “I have an ankle holster. I don’t like a waistband holder for rides because damaging my back is stupid.”

  “Where’s the gun?” said Stone.

  Ace walked over to a framed picture of Slash with his trademark top hat, holding a Gibson Les Paul. He swung it out, revealing a safe. He keyed in a combination, and took out a gun lockbox, behind piles of the twenties and coins. He locked the safe and handed it to Alvarez.

  “Please open the case,” she said.

  He put in the combination, and she took it out, smelling the barrel, “Hasn’t been fired recently. When did you last fire this weapon?” she said, putting it back.

  “Four months ago,” he said, “we were out by Kingman when some idiot left his Doberman off the leash and it attacked Ivy. Ivy kicked it good in the head with a motorcycle boot. I shot at a rock to scare it; it worked. Dumbass dog owner saw our bikes and my gun and got his dog back on a leash. I told him I would have been within my rights to shoot the dog, and that he had better never let it off the leash in a public place again.”

  She handed the weapon back to him. He put in in the case, locked it, and locked it in the safe.

  “I won’t answer any other questions until you answer mine. What is this about?”

  “Your father, Braden Dolan, was shot with a .22 out by the pool of his house sometime between two and three twenty pm, today.”

  Ace shook his head, “He would have shot me if I had stepped a toe on his property. I’m sure you saw his gun collection.”

  “Can you think of anyone who wanted to harm your father?” Alvarez asked.

  “My mother. Or their business partner Ciaran Donal. Something is wrong with that business. My mom’s business is a subsidiary of his, but she brought in a lot more money than he ever could. She’s a stone bitch. Take a look. You’ll find a mess.”

  “We’ll look into it,” said Alvarez.

  “Good, you do that.”

  She handed him her pad and a pen, “Could I have the names of everyone who saw you, everyone you were with?” He took the pad and wrote down the names of every person he could think of who saw him.

  “You don’t seem too broken up,” said Stone, unclamping himself to look down at Ace.

  “My parents were violent to each other and to me. They had affairs. My parents had no business being married. So, no, if either one of them dies, no tears.”

  “And your brother?” asked Stone.

  “History test today,” said Ace, “he’s in Arizona in boarding school, with a lot more people around him all day. He got out, and so did I.”

  Stone continued looking down on him, “What about the Nighthawks? Any one of them know about your bad blood with your father?”

  Ace snorted, “Probably. But we’ve got a daycare going and a school to get started and rides to go on. We’re thinking Grand Canyon this year, or maybe Bryce Canyon. We don’t know yet. We don’t have the time to be fucking around in the past.”

  Stone stared at Ace some more, his rumpled suit bunched around the shoulders. Then, as if pricked by a balloon, he slumped down again.

  “We’ll be in touch,” he said and walked out.

  Alvarez handed him a card, “Call us if you have any more information.” She turned and followed her partner.

  Ace blew out a breath, followed them out, then went to the bar. He walked behind the counter, took some bills out of his wallet, and put them in the till. He washed his hands, then started lining up shot glasses. He poured Jim Beam in each, all across the bar until the bottle was empty. He picked up a glass, and so did Ivy. Lily came over, and he sprayed soda in a glass for her.

  “The bastard Braden, my dad, is dead. Drink up!” he said, raising his glass.

  Everyone within reach of a glass took one, and they all downed them and turned them upside-down.

  “What the fuck?!” said Lily.

  “Oh, shit,” said Ivy. She dug out her cell phone and called for reinforcements.

  They closed the bar at three, and did the usual cleanup and till counts and side work. Ivy pulled Lily aside, bending down to talk nearly into her ear.

  “He won’t remember tomorrow who was here and who wasn’t. He only gets drunk once a year, the day his dad kicked him out. Now that son-of-a-bitch is dead, and I’m sure he’s going down hard tonight. It’s pointless for you to see it, and you’re bone tired. Adam is staying sober and will get him home. Can you follow Bella? She’s going to pick up his Harley, and you can bring her home?”

  “On it,” said Lily, “you keep an eye on him.”

  “Damn straight,” said Ivy, “now get the fuck out of here!”

  All the club members who drank and who didn’t have a job the next morning showed up. Henry poured the “firewater,” as he called it, Johnnie Walker Black. Ivy held court, talking about bands she’d seen —and done, back in the day —and stories of the road. They passed around road warrior stories, laughing until they cried. They finally broke up around four thirty, and Adam, who had remained sober, poured people into his SUV.

  Ivy laid down on her couch and wondered why Ace hadn’t gotten angry and broken anything. Ace had this sardonic smile on his face the entire time. Ivy was glad Lily wasn’t around to see him like that. That black-hearted dead man had given her Ace a toughness he didn’t actually need, not at sixteen. She poured herself one last drink, thinking of his showing up to school with a black eye and a bloody nose. Her mom was never home, so Ace had moved in, ending his couch-surfing. Then finishing off his school year, then getting that uncle of his to get his parents to sign off on emancipation papers. Then he was gone… to Reno, but she knew he’d be back.

  And now he had Lily. She smiled, left the shot glass on her desk, and turned off the light.

  Ivy and Bella

  Bella popped her head into Ivy’s office. Once again, she was preparing for the bank drop, “Ace okay?”

  Ivy was barely able to move. Running the bar alone sucked.

  “He’s with his brother in Arizona. And no, he’s not okay. It’s kind of worse when an asshole dies because you didn’t get a chance to either confront the asshole, or the asshole didn’t have an opportunity to apologize. Or to stop being an asshole.”

  Bella sat on the edge of the couch, “Assholes usually don’t change. My mom’s still running around trying to control everyone,” she barked out a humorless laugh, “she thinks she can convert me into stopping being a lesbian.”

  Ivy stood up and started towards the door as if she were walking in molasses, “I’d like to see anyone try to convert me to anything,” she said.

  Bella barked another laugh, “Not possible, Ivy. You are what you are.” Bella followed her out of the office and out the back door.

  Ivy felt the wind pushing her. It was warm and very strong, with gusts that made the power cables above their heads move.

  “Gotta walk to the bank,” she said, “you coming with?”

  “Yeah,” said Bella, “but I’m not much protection. You’re the one with the gun.”

  Ivy smiled, “Concealed carry permit. You should get one, leaving here late and all.” They took the alley through to Harmon and walked towards the bank’s night drop on Paradise.

  “Got a knife in my boot,” said Bella. She touched her boot and pulled it out.

  “Oh, yeah?” Ivy knelt and pulled out hers. They traded knives.

  “Good heft,” said Ivy.

  Bella smiled, “Yours is primo.”

  They switched knives and put them back in their boots, “I’m worth it,” said Ivy, simply.

  “Just that simple,” said Bella.

  “It can be,” said Ivy, “but you gotta make that choice.” They reached the night drop. Bella stood guard as Ivy made the drop.

  “I’m so fucking tired,” said Ivy, walking freely, arms swinging, her butt swinging back and forth, her boots clipping on the concrete, “I live two blocks from here. Let’s crash.”r />
  “Works for me,” said Bella, “thanks!”

  “No problem,” said Ivy, “and, I’m sorry for shutting you down the last time we talked.”

  Bella shrugged, “I didn’t say it right. I have a problem with that. My mouth and my heart and my brain just never sync up.”

  Ivy laughed, “Mine don’t either.”

  The Chinese restaurant was closed. Ivy went along the side and went up the alley. Just before her self-created awning for her Harley, she opened the metal door.

  “Be careful,” said Ivy, “it’s steep, and no one stair is the same height as the other one.”

  “I can handle it,” said Bella, pulling herself up the railing —oddly, the railing was only on one side.

  Ivy put in some sort of complicated code on a touchpad. They stumbled in, took off their boots in the entryway, and hung up their leathers on the hooks over the door.

  “Want some ice cream?” asked Ivy.

  “What ya got?” asked Bella, so tired she was nearly stumbling.

  Ivy took out a can of cola and two mugs. She took out two containers.

  “Ben and Jerry’s peanut butter cup…”

  “Shut up,” said Bella, “yes!”

  Ivy scooped the ice cream into the mugs and poured over the cola. She took out two spoons.

  They sat on the floor next to her bed, “Haven’t gotten around to the furniture.”

  “We can do that tomorrow,” said Bella, “I know a place, sells used furniture.”

  “Excellent,” said Ivy.

  They ate their ice cream, just their shoulders touching. They finished, and Ivy rolled up, rinsed the cups and spoons, and put them in the tiny dishwasher.

  She sat back down. Bella reached out her hand. Ivy held it.

  “You know,” she said, “this is all we need to do.”

  Ivy kissed her hand, “This won’t work,” she said.

  Bella smiled a crooked smile, “I know I don’t have a chance with you. You’re so far above me. You’re in the stratosphere.”

  “I’m the hawk that flies free,” said Ivy, tears in her eyes, “don’t think I can love again. Just death. And now, Ace and his evil dad. He’s telling me his mom is into some serious shit, that she probably did it.”