I hiss.
That draws a smile from him, and he flashes perfectly straight white teeth. “Be that as it may, I came to collect, and I always get what’s owed.”
I frown. “How’d you meet Richard?”
“He joined a table where I was playing Baccarat. We had an enjoyable conversation, and he came to my place for a private game of poker.”
“He had money for poker?”
“He did indeed. Quite a sum.”
Trez, you lying son-of-a-bitch. “So, he lost it all to you? Then how does he owe you money? Surely you didn’t cover a bet for him.”
“No, of course not. He stole something from me.”
My brow lifts. “What did he take?”
“Never mind what it was, but it was worth a great deal of money.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“Holy crap.”
“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” His grip on my arm tightens, and I try to twist free.
“No. You’re hurting me.” And scaring the bejesus out of me.
He finally releases me.
I glance toward the nightstand and see the pack of smokes Trez left behind. I nod toward them. “Mind if I smoke while we wait for him to return?”
Mason Lockwood smiles again. “Be my guest.”
“Kind of you.”
“I mean you no harm, Lola. I just want what belongs to me.”
I move to the side table and tap out a cigarette, my hands shaking. From where I’m standing I can now see out the window.
The sound of a motorcycle carries to me, and I spot one turning into the lot. The rider swings his bike around and backs into a spot. My eyes widen at the patch on his back. I’d recognize it anywhere. He’s a Royal Bastard. I don’t have a clue who he is or if this is the biggest of coincidences, I just thank my lucky stars.
“As fun as this has been, boys, my ride’s here, so I really must be going.” I move to the door, but one of the men blocks my way. I gesture out the window. “I don’t think you want to piss my boyfriend off.”
Lockwood moves to the window and peers out.
“Give me my wallet,” I demand.
“Let her go. We know where to find her if we need her.” He nods toward his goon, and the man hands it over and steps out of my way.
I dash outside and down the stairs just as the Royal Bastard steps off his bike. I glance up to see Mason Lockwood standing just outside the door, watching me with cold eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Memphis—
“Did my father send you?”
My gaze sweeps down the blonde beauty, and I pull off my shades. “You Lola?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m Memphis.”
She has a stricken look on her face as she glances up toward the second floor, and my gaze follows to the three men at the top of the stairs watching us. They’re hardly the kind I’d expect to find in a run-down shithole like this. One of the men stands out to me. “Who is that guy?”
“No one. Let’s go.”
I don’t believe her, but here’s not the place I want to have this discussion. Besides, I’m just happy she’s not giving me any trouble about getting on the bike. I really expected her to be difficult about this. Taking her back to Rock will be easier than I thought. I swing my leg back over the bike and lift it off the kickstand, firing it up. “Climb on.”
She scurries to comply before the words are even out of my mouth. I can feel her twist behind me and know she’s looking at those men again. Whether its worry or fear, I’ll get to the bottom of it, but I can’t deny that I hate that she’s feeling either one.
I roar off the lot out onto Tulane and gun the throttle up the street. I make a right at a light, checking my mirror. No one’s following us. A block down we get stopped at a light, and I turn my head and ask over my shoulder, “You in trouble?”
“If you hadn’t pulled up when you did, I might have been.”
“Who was that guy?”
“Someone Trez knows.”
“Who’s Trez? He the guy you came down here with?” Any man who would take a knockout like this girl to a dive motel like that has got to be a monumental loser, and I can’t believe Rock’s daughter would throw her life away on a loser.
“You don’t know who Trez is?”
I frown at her odd response and twist to make eye contact with her. “Should I?” I’m beginning to wonder if there’s more to this story