Death Blow Page 6

  She threw her hair up into a messy bun, trying to make the whole thing casual. It was still missing something. She went to her dresser and, for the first time in a long time, pulled out her jewelry box. She didn’t wear jewelry often—it never seemed to go with her style—but she had a necklace of her mother’s that she thought was just the thing she needed to almost fit in at the Morans’. Sifting through the small collection, she found it: a thin, delicate, gold chain, with a single, beautiful golden arrow charm.

  She’d never remembered seeing her mother wear this necklace, although her memories of her mother were faded and fading. She did have very clear memories of her mother touching this one a lot, when her dad wasn’t home, draping it on her hands, running it through her fingers. When Deborah had died, the very night that her dad had told her, in fact, Lila remembered sneaking into their bedroom to find the necklace. Her dad had never been in a state of mind to realize after that night anyway, but Lila never put it on around him, just in case he recognized it. He’d pawned all her mother’s jewelry a few months after the death, and Lila was sure he’d try to take it back from her if he knew she had it.

  She slipped the necklace around her neck, fastened the clasp, and took a look at herself in the mirror. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the closest she’d get, so it would have to do. What time was it now? Good lord, it was 3PM already. She needed to get going. She could catch her boss doing the daily office work at the Dirty Pint, have that conversation, and get out in time to get a bottle of something and get to the house by 5. She headed out of the house, jumped in her car, and sped off.

  Chapter Eight

  The conversation with her boss had gone badly. No surprise—Carter was always an asshole, who employed a bunch of young, attractive women, paid them poorly, and came onto them all the time, whenever he wasn’t yelling at them. Lila hadn’t expected it to go well, obviously, but she also hadn’t expected to stand up for herself as much as she did. She sort of let the boss have it, gave him a piece of her mind, even if it was a small piece. He wasn’t a man of reason, and she was quitting without notice and with a lot of shit to say to him, so he’d just gotten angrier and angrier. They’d fought back and forth for almost an hour, him trying to get her to stay at first, then refusing to give her her last paycheck. Finally, he’d stomped over to the register, pulled out her biweekly salary in cash, literally thrown it at her, and stormed into the kitchen. She collected the measly sum—it was a couple bucks shy of what she’d made at Club Malevolence in a single night, and a training night at that. She didn’t need to take another look around before she left. She’d hated that place, and it had only just gotten her by. She had no fondness for it whatsoever, and knew she’d miss absolutely nothing about its dark, dank insides.

  Outside, though, the Sheriff was headed to the doors of the Dirty Pint. He caught her completely off-guard.

  “Hey there, girlie,” he greeted her.

  “Sheriff! Hi!” She was feeling a little raw, emotionally, and she stepped right to him and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a big hug. They’d hugged before, but it’d always been a bit more formal, a bit more earned, a little less immediate. The Sheriff had seemed visibly shocked, but he hugged her back tightly regardless.

  “Well someone’s positively glowing. And look at you, all fancy in your heels and your—“ the Sheriff caught sight of her necklace and froze, staring at it for a second. “What a lovely thing,” he said quietly.

  “Oh, yeah,” Lila’s hand flew up to touch it, blushing a little.

  “Very pretty. Very pretty indeed.” The Sheriff’s voice took on a strange tone for a beat, as if he’d gone somewhere far away. He sounded so quiet and lost. Lila’d never seen him dip out like that. But in a split second, he came right back, tearing his eyes away from the necklace and back up to her eyes. “You get a raise? Ol’ Carter in there make you a partner or something?” He took a step back to look at her, take in her new appearance, her new mood. Something enormous had shifted around Lila, he could tell.

  Lila’s face sank as she realized that she now had to tell the Sheriff she didn’t work at the Dirty Pint anymore. At the same moment, she realized she couldn’t tell him about Club Malevolence either. She wanted to, but she sensed that it wasn’t allowed, that she shouldn’t tell the Sheriff about the club, or at the very least about her new job there. She was going to have to lie to him.

  “Well, actually, no,” she admitted, stalling. “I just quit.”

  The Sheriff grabbed his heart in a mock attack. “Quit?! My god, you quit the Dirty Pint?! Say it ain’t so, Lila!” He was definitely surprised, but he didn’t want to show it. It was important to him that Lila trust him, and he knew he had to treat things the right way for that to happen.

  “Afraid it’s true, Sheriff,” Lila lamented. “I’ve got a new job as Sheriff of Belle Chasse.” She flashed a big grin as she joked with him.

  He gave her a why-I-oughta shake of his hand. “Carter must not be too happy about that,” he said, peering tentatively at the doors. “What you quittin’ for?” he asked, staring at Lila curiously.

  “Oh, you know, been a long time,” she deflected.

  “And we both know what a shithole that place is,” the Sheriff winked at her from behind his aviators.

  Lila laughed. “True.” She couldn’t even bring herself to move the conversation forward, like a normal conversation would go. She was sure the Sheriff could sense her hesitancy, could pick up on her unwillingness to share. But she was also sure he’d press her.

  “What’re you gonna do for money, then?” he asked finally, after a long silence.

  “Well, I’ll find something. I’ve got a kind of temporary job, doing a couple things for a woman in town.” She made up the lie as she went along. She didn’t want to entirely make it up, but she needed to come up with something passable.

  “Doin’ a couple things for a woman? What does that mean?” he pressed.

  “You know, running errands, stuff like that. She’s pretty wealthy,” Lila joked, “so there’s not much she can do by herself.” She wanted out of there so badly, hated lying to the Sheriff.

  “Oh, I see, I see.” He shifted back on his heels a bit, and she could tell he was trying to make sense of all this, gauging whether he should continue to ask questions or leave it alone. “What woman is this?” he asked neutrally.

  “Um, her name’s Cassandra,” Lila admitted.

  The Sheriff’s face froze in a smile. “Cassandra what?”

  “Cassandra Moran. You know her?” Lila tried to play it cool. The smile didn’t leave the Sheriff’s face, but Lila felt a coldness sweep between the two of them.

  “Oh, yep, yep, I know Mrs. Moran,” he said, resting both hands on his belt. He was the one avoiding Lila’s gaze now, staring at his shoes, the sidewalk, anything. “She’s a nice lady, for sure. And tons of money, I know that.” He was saying what Lila wanted him to say, but the way he was saying it brought up those feelings of unease again.

  “My only problem is,” Lila tried to regain the upper hand here, “how am I going to see my Sheriff?” She tried to sound as warm and natural as possible. And she meant it. The Sheriff had been the only thing worth being at the Dirty Pint for, as long as Lila had worked there. “Am I going to have to get arrested every time I want to see you and catch up?”

  The Sheriff laughed, wonderful and deep. “You got my number, girlie. You know you can call me whenever you want, even if that’s just to get a beer and shoot the shit.” He took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder, taking off his sunglasses with the other hand. He looked intently into Lila’s eyes, as if trying to communicate an unspoken message more than the words he was saying. “And Lila,” he stared into her. “I want you to call me if you ever need anything. If you ever need anything,” he reiterated. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, sent that silent something to her eyes again, and dropped his hand from her shoulder. “Well,” he said, putting his aviators back on. “I was dropping by to ha
ve a chat with Carter, so I’ll head on in and do that.”

  “Oh great,” Lila rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell him you saw me, yeah?”

  “I’ll tell him I tossed you into the back of my wagon and will deal with you myself.” The Sheriff stepped past her, and Lila’s heart broke a little bit as he did. “Always good to see you, Lila. Hope your new job won’t change things.”

  “It won’t, Sheriff. Promise it won’t.”

  “All right now. Get on.” The Sheriff shooed her away as he opened the front door of the bar and disappeared inside.

  It was already 4:20pm—Lila rushed back to her car, shoved the keys in the ignition, and took off.

  Chapter Nine

  Lila was scared to even knock on the door, that’s how white it was. She realized how ridiculous she must look, dressed in jeans, standing at the threshold of this enormous mansion. It was a mansion, an honest to god mansion. Lila had never seen one up close like this. White, white, brilliant white, protected by regal columns that spanned from roof to ground. Lila’d driven up through a huge, gravel circle where a man who could’ve easily worked the door at Club Malevolence came out and asked for her keys. Now she stood here, severely underdressed, wondering if this expensive—to her—bottle of wine could even come close to making the impression she wanted to, thinking maybe she should just turn around and go home.

  “Deep breaths,” she said out loud to herself. “Deep breaths, you can do this. They like you. They invited you over. Cassandra knows what you’re coming from here.” She followed her advice, inhaled, exhaled. She couldn’t turn back now. She raised a hand and held it, hesitantly, inches away from the door. This was it.

  One, two, three knocks. Wait.

  Lila heard the footsteps as they approached—the light click of a pair of heels. She shifted her weight, took a last deep breath, and slung a smile on just as the door opened.

  “There she is, right on time again.” It was Cassandra, dressed in a pair of white linen capris and a loose-flowing white top. Lila’d gotten pretty close with her mental image. On her feet were adorable white kitten heels, and Lila made note that Cassandra was the type of woman who had a pair of heels for every outfit, and probably nothing else. “Hey there, doll face.” Cassandra pulled her inside, into a hug, grabbing the bottle of wine seamlessly as they broke apart. “And you brought wine! Someone raised you right,” she grinned, glancing at the label.

  “Hah, no, pretty much raised myself this way,” Lila shot off, not realizing what she said before she said.

  Cassandra frowned. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I know your daddy’s reputation,” she admitted, looking Lila straight in the face. Lila hadn’t realized that Cassandra knew who she was, knew who her family was, before they’d met. She must have. “Ooh, a Cali cab sauv, my favorite,” she giggled, shutting the door behind Lila.

  Lila took in the foyer. The ceiling must have been 50 feet high, with a giant crystal chandelier that hung intricately close to a big, dark, wooden staircase. The floors were also a rich, deep mahogany, and everything else was white. White, everywhere, white, even on Cassandra. The furniture had a nice rustic aesthetic to it, and the pieces looked quite old, although Lila wasn’t sure if they were genuine antiques or very expensive replicas.

  “Come on in, have a seat. If you don’t mind bein’ a bit casual with us, we’ll sit in the kitchen for right now, yeah?” Cassandra clicked off down the hallway, and Lila followed. Family photos of Cassandra, Lyle and Jackson hung on much of the wallspace, framed beautifully in silver and black. There wasn’t any color anywhere—the house had been meticulously designed and decorated.

  They made it to the kitchen, a big, open concept with lots of windows and modern chrome appliances. An older woman was cutting things at the counter, her back to them as Lila and Cassandra walked in. “That’s Shelley, our cook,” Cassandra said. Shelley, a frail-looking woman with wispy blonde hair, looked over her shoulder and nodded at Lila. “Let me get two glasses here,” Cassandra groaned as she reached for two wine stems in an upper cabinet, “and let’s sit us down and talk!” She set the two glasses on the kitchen island, a nice black slate with black stools to sit in.

  “The boys around?” Lila asked, nudging a stool out and sitting on it.

  “Oh, somewhere, you know menfolk. Think Jackson’s upstairs with his girlfriend, who’ll be joinin’ us for dinner as well, and Lyle’s up in his office, finishin’ up some stuff for the day. Just us girls for right now, but that’s the way I like it.” Cassandra winked at Lila as she took a stool beside her. “So, how’d the rest of the night go last night?”

  Lila laughed, forgetting that Cassandra knew nothing about her encounter with Barrett. She wasn’t sure she should say anything.

  “Oh, fine. Just cleaned up and went home.”

  Cassandra corked Lila’s bottle of wine and poured them both substantial glasses of it. “That’s it?” she eyed Lila, playfully suspicious. “’Cause Raechelle told me you met Barrett Warde after we left.”

  “Did she?” Lila deflected, grinning as she took a sip of the wine. “Can’t imagine why she’d think that was important enough to mention.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Cassandra clinked her glass to Lila’s. “Not everyday that a brand new employee gives one of our top selling, most hated fighters a good, strong wack across the face.” They both broke out into quiet laughter. Lila felt herself blushing a bit, but she hoped it wouldn’t give her away.

  “Well, Barrett said some impolite things to me,” Lila demurred, winking back at Cassandra this time.

  “I’ll be damned, girl,” Cassandra took a big gulp of her wine. “You somethin’ else. I’m so happy you’re takin’ up with us.” The remark struck Lila as a bit odd, taking up with us. Lila felt like she’d heard that phrase used in stories about gangs and outlaws. She also couldn’t stop thinking about what Cassandra’d said before, about knowing her father, and she couldn’t help but ask.

  “You said you knew my daddy’s reputation?” she asked quietly. Cassandra got somber. She twirled her wine glass by the stem, looking somewhat sadly at Lila.

  “Yeah, Lila. I know your family. I—well,” she shifted uncomfortably on her stool, switching her crossed legs and kicking her kitten heel rhythmically against her foot. “Well, I knew your mother and father pretty well,” she said finally.

  Lila had not expected that. “My mother?” she practically whispered.

  “Yeah. Well, I knew your folks before all the troubles.”

  “Well?”

  “Fairly well, yep. Your daddy and my Lyle have done some business together, at different times.” Lila couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had her dad helped build Club Malevolence? Lila couldn’t tie together why Lyle might have done business with a construction worker like her father. “And, well, I don’t know if you remember this—but Lyle’s the one your mother worked for, right before she died.”

  Lila choked on the wine she’d just sipped. “My mother was Lyle’s secretary?” Cassandra looked into her eyes, cool as a cucumber.

  “Yep. She sure was.”

  “So you—you both knew my mother pretty well, then.” Lila felt slightly dizzy. This wasn’t anything she’d ever expected. The room spun slightly, and Lila could only chug a bit more wine to combat it. “You—oh man,” she gawked.

  “Easy, girl, easy,” Cassandra eyed her sips. “I know it’s a lot to take in right now.” She put a hand over Lila’s, both of them resting on the cool slate island. “I wanted you to know because—well, I want you to know that we care about you here. I came to find you specifically, and I want you to know that you have a second family here. We knew yours, and we want you to know ours real well.”

  Lila’s eyes welled up. No one had ever said anything so nice to her in the many years since her mother’s death. At that moment, Lila felt happy and sad and overwhelmed. It was surreal, that this beautiful, rich woman, this woman who’d known her real mother, this princess in shining armor, had sough
t Lila out, had brought Lila here, and wanted to take care of her. Lila had forgotten what that was like—to be taken care of.

  “Aw, sugar, don’t cry,” Cassandra smiled. She brought her other hand forward and wiped Lila’s eyes. “Just know that you can depend on us Morans, okay? For whatever you need, whenever you need it.” Lila broke down and started to cry a little, but it was through a big smile.

  “Cassandra, this—“ She wanted to say how thankful she was.

  Cassandra waved her hand at Lila. “Shh, girl, you ain’t got to thank me. We owe it to you, in a way, all right?”

  At that moment, Lila heard light, padding footsteps coming down the staircase in the hall. “Oh god,” she muttered, wiping her eyes and fanning them to hopefully do away with some of the redness.

  “That’ll be Jackson and Tiffany,” Cassandra said, sighing slightly on the last name and heaving herself up off the stool. “Better get some more glasses.”

  Around the corner came Jackson followed by a cute, young, blonde girl with shiny blue eyes. They had their hands clasped tightly around each other’s, and Jackson seemed to pull her around with a gentle force that she more than willingly succumbed to. She flashed a big smile—showing perfect, white teeth—when she saw Lila, and let out a little squeal.