surprised that Constantine had reached out to Maya. Hopefully, that meant the old man had nothing to hide. Once Constantine and Jagger were off the list, perhaps she'd focus on people who were not part of the club, like Blake Cordero and his father. But he was probably being too optimistic. The main players in Natasha's life had all been at the Russia House and some of them were still there.
He drove Maya back to her house and checked each room before saying he'd see her later. It felt a little strange to drive away without her. He'd become somewhat attached to her in the past sixteen hours or so, but he needed to go home, change his clothes and then get to the club for his shift. He also needed to find out more about Natasha's death. He wasn't going to have time to dig on his own before he had to go serve drinks; he needed some help from the team. He decided to stop at Flynn's house on his way home.
"What's going on?" Jax asked, as he walked up the path to the porch, where they had placed a ladder and a bucket of paint. "Who's suddenly a painter?"
"That would be Beck," Flynn said with a grin.
"But it looks like your unit is the one that's being painted," he pointed out.
"That's what I said," Beck drawled. "But Flynn thinks he's the boss wherever we are."
"Hey, I said I'd hire someone."
"Which is ridiculous, since we can easily paint this ourselves," Beck said.
Flynn and Beck were two of the best agents Jax had ever worked with, but, somehow, he didn't see either one of them as being the best painter. But if he had to choose, he'd go with Beck, who tended to have a longer attention span than Flynn.
"What are you doing here, Jax?" Flynn asked. "Got any news?"
"Complications more than news."
"Is your cover in jeopardy?"
"I don't think so, but there's a woman stirring up old secrets at the Firebird Club, and she's getting in my way."
"What kind of secrets?" Beck asked curiously.
"An old Hollywood murder that's gone unsolved for thirty-plus years and involves a famous Russian movie star."
"Natasha Petrova?" Beck asked.
He was shocked that Beck would have any knowledge of a film star from the seventies and eighties. "You've heard of her?"
"Yes. She was quite famous. How does her death tie into the Firebird Club?"
"She dated Constantine Dimitrov, who created the club in its first incarnation as the Russia House. She was also married to one of the original members, Wallace Jagger. Natasha's granddaughter, Maya Ashton, showed up at the club last night and managed to ambush Wallace. She's making a movie about her grandmother's life and wanted Wallace's input. She left him some photocopied pages from a journal her grandmother kept. Right after she left, Wallace's son, Ryland Jagger, had an intense conversation about Maya and what she was up to." He paused. "All of these men have bought cars from Falcon in the last year. Her targets are my targets, and now they're getting nervous."
"I didn't see this coming," Flynn said.
"I didn't, either," he agreed. "It gets more interesting. At the end of the night, Wallace Jagger hands me the envelope that Maya left with him and says he can't bear to read what's inside, but he doesn't want to give it to his son. He asks me to take it to Maya's house on my way home. I agreed, thinking it's not a bad idea if the old guy thinks he owes me a favor."
"Makes sense," Beck put in, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "What happened then?"
"I get to Maya's house and I'm about to give her the envelope when she realizes her front door is open. She's just arrived home herself. Long story short, the guy inside busts out, goes after me, goes after her, trying to grab her purse. I fight him off, chase him down the street."
"Damn!" Flynn said. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Didn't have a chance. Police came. I gave them a partial plate. I