SAPPHIRE
Santi and Cassius move to my left and right while Harlon leads the Savage brother in my direction.
Smooth confident gate with little attention to spare the runners still waiting for me to pay them. Albeit with a little more respect in their eyes when I connect my gaze with theirs.
Cassius rests an arm around my shoulder and leans in. “He’s looking for someone. A lost wife if you can believe that shit. He needs our help. Yours specifically.”
Got it. That’s not so bad.
“Riot, this is Sapphire. You remember her from the baby announcement party a few weeks back?”
My memory clicks over the events and his face comes to mind. Thinking back on that night I don’t recall him looking as haggard and worn out as he does now. He might look put together in clean jeans, polished boots, and a crisp Henley under that leather cut, but the shadows under his eyes speak volumes.
I search his face for an ounce of something other than tired and pissed off. But all I get is an ugly mixture of rage, anger, hurt, and fear that leaves his otherwise handsome face in a deep scowl. Calculating eyes, strong chin, and unmoving presence. He’d be a hard opponent to take down.
I’m not here to solve the world’s problems, I remind myself. Contract, Club Sin, and get as many free margaritas as I can handle. All in that order.
Those sharp eyes narrow in on me and I feel like I’m a bug under a magnifying glass. “I do remember. The new Genesis undertaker. Dragon had good things to say about you.”
My phone pings again but I ignore Belle’s text bubble and take the much larger offered hand.
“I highly doubt Dragon had anything nice to say about me.”
Just like when I met his club brother, I get the sense this man is just as hard-core and direct. Callused fingers wrap around my hand and quiet strength radiates from his touch. Firm, but not punishing. Not soft. There’s nothing soft about him or the Savages.
Harlon moves in front of me as his guest takes up the space beside him.
“I heard you are the one who can help me find my wife.”
There’s a level of hope in his rough tone that makes me nervous; like Genesis is all he has left. That is never a good sign.
“Let’s see about that, shall we? Follow me.”
I lead the way to the back where I can tap into the database of runners. Each one has a specialty skill. Very rarely is retrieval the name of the game and I have learned that there are some names on my list who stick to the rules of the contract and others who play it lose.
“Are you sure she wants to be found, Mr…?”
“Just Riot, Ms. Constantine. And I’m not too sure about anything. I’ve never hunted a ghost before.”
I gesture to a large leather chair opposite my large horseshoe booth where my computer and additional monitors are set up. A few clicks and I have my system humming.
Cassius and Santi seem to have disappeared. They are probably on their way down to the basement to have a talk with Snake Eyes and his apparent buddies.
“Ghost hunting isn’t our thing. Who exactly are we looking for?” Harlon and the men don’t like me asking bonus questions, but this isn’t the typical job.
I look to my cousin who stands nearby watching his friend.
“My wife, like I said.” Two fingers push a picture across the dark wood of my desk. A pretty brunette stares back at me. She’s leaning into Riot, her arms wrapped around his neck. Tattered edges tell me this picture has lived in his wallet for a very long time.
“Why are you not going to the cops with this instead?”
“You ask a lot of questions. Just take my money and let’s get on with this.”
“Yes, but valid ones. Understand that I’m just trying to help. Lost and found isn’t our usual bag of tricks. The more you give me the better Genesis can help.”
Harlon leans his hands on the table, palms open. “I know this isn’t the easiest, my friend.” He clasps a hand over the other guy’s thick shoulder. “Fill Sapphire in on the details of the contract and come find me downstairs when you finish. We’ll get shit-faced and then get you a private room upstairs so you can conduct your business. Remember Genesis is neutral ground. You can relax here.”
Riot takes Harlon’s hand and I see something pass between them. Understanding.
Harlon recently lost a wife. Someone special he shared with Santi and Cassius. It was an unorthodox relationship no one in our family accepted.
Except me. I was the only one who encouraged him to seek love wherever he found it. For a while he was happy. I thought maybe he would even dismantle the Constantine empire when his father went away to prison and find some cabin and just be happy.
Wishful thinking on my part. In his line of work, retiring is as rare as unicorns.
I thought I saw a glimmer of hope with their new secretary, Polaris. Maybe they just need more time. But it’s been close to two years since she was kidnapped and murdered, and still, all three wear their wedding bands as if they expect their dead wife to walk through Genesis’ doors any minute.
And from the look in his eyes, Riot seems just as lost. The lack of life behind such thick lashes is telling and familiar. It takes everything I have to not bring my issues into this situation. The lack of love and support is a running theme tonight.
Unlike the other levels, on this floor, we don’t have any music piping through speakers to help dull the silence. So when I say it’s quiet enough that I can hear the enamel on Riot’s back molars crack after Harlon exits the floor, I mean it.
“We are usually the last option, not the first. Are you sure you want to take this route, Riot? These runners. They are not the gentle touch type you might be looking for or hoping for anyway.”
“I’m here because Genesis is the last place I saw her alive. The cops have no reason to open her case back up after finding her charred remains in the middle of my living room.”
That’s right. Three weeks ago, his president, Ares, and his woman were here celebrating the news of their coming arrival. A little Savage bundle.
The curiosity drops from my tone. “I remember the party. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
He nods but says nothing.
I get the strong feeling he’s more of a doer instead of a talker. Sitting here in my parlor brings to light just how helpless he is. His hair is scattered around his shoulders and looks as though the wind whipped through the dark lengths. The lines around his eyes reveal he’s pushing his late thirties, but the deep-rooted pain in his eyes says he’s had a shit life of loss and it’s killing him.
“Let’s go over conditions, okay?”
He nods again.
“Bounty?”
“Seven-fifty.”