Midnight Desire: A Midnight Riders Motorcycle Club Romance Part 1 Read Online Free Page B

Lou.”
    Click.

10
    Fiona
    Jack Pollari was hot, of that there was no question.
    Incredibly handsome, smooth, suave, smart… maybe too smart. That bit where he figured out I’d never been a waitress before actually messed with me for a second. Threw me off my game.
    Then I realized he’d thrown me off my game completely.
    I was here to find Ali’s killer, not get busy with the leader of the local asshole’s union.
    When I got back to my motel room, I pulled out my book of photographs, one of my most treasured possessions.
    There were so many pictures… of Ali by herself, of the both of us together, ranging from infancy to our early twenties.
    One of my favorites was when we were both about seven years old, our arms around each other, gap-toothed smiles from our teeth falling out.        It was summer, and the photo was warm and bright with the perfect haze of sunshine.
    That’s who she was to me: a little blonde girl, perfect and innocent.
    That was who I was here for.
    Not some biker. Not some smooth-talking thug.
    I was here to bring her killer to justice.
    If I could use Jack Pollari to do that, so be it.
    But that was all that was going to happen.
    That was it.

11
    If I thought Jack Pollari was a smooth operator, though, it was only because I hadn’t met Louis Shaw.
    I stopped by the Seven Veils at 7PM, as instructed. The bald asshole Peanut was on duty at the door. Hard rock thumped heavily from the closed door behind him.
    “I remember you,” he leered. “Ready to strip?”
    “No, but I’m ready to talk to your boss,” I said coldly. “Mr. Shaw’s expecting me.”
    He went from a leer to a sneer in one second flat. “You stupid bitch – just cuz you found out a name to drop, you think you’re hot shit?”
    “No, I know I’m hot shit. And when Jack Pollari says he’s going to call Louis Shaw and put in a good word for me, I believe him.”
    At the mention of Jack Pollari’s name, Peanut’s face drained of color. He struggled to get back his bravado, though. “You bullshit real good, I’ll give you that.”
    Without a word, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Jack’s number. There was a pause, then a deep, sexy voice answered. “Hello?”
    “Hi, Jack. Fiona here.”
    Whatever color Peanut had gotten back, he lost again.
    “Fiona! How’d it go with Lou?”
    “I don’t know yet, since Peanut won’t let me in. Could you… convince him?”
    Jack’s voice suddenly became quite pissed. “Put him on.”
    I held the phone out to Peanut, who looked at it like I was offering him a live rattlesnake. When he didn’t move, I thrust it at him with a menacing expression. Take it!
    He took it gingerly and held it up to his ear, looking sicker by the second. “…hello?”
    From that point onward, Peanut’s entire contribution to the conversation was “Yes, sir,” and “Sorry, Jack.” When he handed the phone back to me, he was an entirely different man.
    “Well, now that THAT’S taken care of… I’ll see you for that drink later tonight,” Jack said, back to his roguish charm.
    “Absolutely. And thanks again.”
    “Thank me later,” he chuckled, and was gone.
    His last three words sent a thrill up my spine, but I let it pass and tried to pretend I hadn’t felt it.
    I put away my phone and stared at Peanut. “Well?”
    He glared at me like I had betrayed him every way a person possibly could, but all he did was mumble, “Follow me,” as he led me into the club.
    It was faux fancy, with velvet couches and padded chairs – but everything was shabby, bordering on ratty. And that was with incredibly dim lighting. With the lights full on, it probably would have been a horror show. Thank God there were no ultraviolets to highlight the stains.
    The place wasn’t anywhere near hopping yet, but there were a good dozen factory workers blowing off steam. Over on the main stage, a hard-looking chick with more tats than clothing was dancing for a couple of middle-aged men on the front