Reckless Road (Torpedo Ink 5)

“You mean rob you? Or your grandmother? Have you been worried they might? You haven’t seen strangers hanging around your house, have you?” Zyah asked, suddenly feeling anxious. Francine wasn’t making a lot of sense, but then she’d clearly had too much to drink. “Is that thing loaded?” Zyah glanced at the security camera. It made her feel a lot safer to know that there were two Torpedo Ink club members in the back. Someone was always watching.

“Of course.” Francine dropped her shirt back into place, shook her head and then laid a finger across her lips, then looked around and beckoned Zyah closer. She waited until Zyah leaned across the counter. “I keep my grandmother safe. No worries about her. She might be an old bat sometimes, but I take care of her.” There was love in her voice. “She takes care of me. No one is going to hurt her.”

Zyah sighed. There was no way she was going to get to go home and take a hot bath and soak in the tub. She was going to have to go to dinner with Francine and make certain she didn’t drive Lizz’s precious Cadillac. She’d definitely had too much to drink. Zyah pulled out her cell phone and texted Player to arrange for someone to get Lizz’s car and take it back to her. She would hate to have it left out all night sitting in front of the grocery store.

She found it strange that the first person she would turn to for help was Player, when Keys and Destroyer were in the back room, probably watching on the monitor.

“I think you should teach me to dance, Zyah.” Francine began to undulate her body. “If I learned to belly dance, I could be beautiful and sexy like you. Then I wouldn’t have to be such a whore.” She giggled again.

Zyah froze. She was barefoot as usual and, although Francine had had too much to drink, she was still blurting out the truth as she saw it. “You are beautiful and sexy, Francine.”

Francine shook her head. “No, I’m not. Not like you. My mother told me. She said, ‘Francine, you’ll never be like her. You might as well face it. You’ll never be beautiful or sexy. You were an ugly baby, an ugly child and you’re ugly now. Be a whore and go after the money. Men are lying, cheating bastards anyway.’”

Every word was whispered, but Zyah felt as if they’d been carved deep into Francine’s skin. Branded into her bones. What kind of mother would say those things to a child?

“Francine, that isn’t true at all. Look at you. You’re so beautiful. I don’t have a clue how to wear makeup. I used to try to copy you all the time. And you have great fashion sense. I never could find the right clothes to suit me. I gave up a long time ago. When we were kids, my grandmother would always comment on what a beautiful child you were.”

“She did?” Francine’s voice wavered.

“Ask her. I heard it all the time. And it was true. I was always chubby and had to fight my weight. You were like this beautiful little doll. I can’t imagine why your mother told you that, but it wasn’t the truth. Surely Lizz tells you how gorgeous you really are.”

Zyah poured sincerity into her voice. Francine had been a beautiful child. She’d gotten hard as an adult, and she drank far too much. The constant alcohol was beginning to show on her, but there was no question that she was beautiful.

“It would be fun to go to dinner with you, Francine. Thanks for asking. I’ll just let Player know. He’s with my grandmother right now. I’ll ask him to stay with her until I get back.”

Francine frowned, tried to straighten and wobbled for a moment and then caught herself, waving her hand dismissively. “Why would Player be with your grandmother?”

Zyah winced at the belligerence in her tone. Francine had wanted to be with a member of Torpedo Ink. She was a naturally jealous woman, and she would want what she thought Zyah had. All the points Zyah had made with her were lost that quickly. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that Torpedo Ink was looking out for Anat while she worked, or that they were there at night.

“We were going to go out tonight,” she said. “I just texted him and said I wanted to go to dinner with you.” She hoped that would be enough to placate Francine.

“Invite him to come with us,” Francine said. “There’s no reason for him to be bored out of his mind staying with an old lady who will just talk his ear off when he could be with the two of us. We can go to Alena’s restaurant. He’d love to be with us; you know he would. Men like Player take on two women at once.”