Read Online Shallow Grave-J Collins 3 by Lori G. Armstrong - Free Book Online Page A

guard and we’d do normal “couple” things.
    Wrong.
    We never went anywhere together in public. It drove me apeshit, until I realized that was normal for us.
    77

    Didn’t mean I liked it. Just meant I’d let it slide until he either changed, or I got sick of it.
    Th
    e door hinges groaned as Kevin strolled in. “What was up with Kim? She looked like she was crying.”
    “She was.”
    “Why?”
    “Bad hair day.”
    Kevin frowned. “She okay?”
    “Yeah. Makes her feel better to see what a screwed up mess my hair is on a daily basis.” I crushed my cigarette in the seashell ashtray. “What’s up?”
    “Wondering where you were on the employment checks.”
    “Halfway through. Why?”
    “Want to take a break and grab lunch?”
    Th
    e phone rang. Kevin was closer to my desk so he answered it. In a clipped tone he said, “It’s Martinez.”
    “Th
    anks.” I grabbed the receiver. “Hey. What’s up?”
    “I need you to come to Fat Bob’s.”
    “When?”
    “Right now. Hang on. I’ve got another call. I’ll explain when you get here.” Click .
    I hung up. I hated when he did that. Why had I been so upset that he hadn’t called me when our phone conversations usually ran along those curt lines?
    “I take it you have a better lunch off er?”
    78

    “Not better. Diff erent.” I managed a smile. “Can I take a raincheck?”
    “Sure. Without being a pain in the ass, I’ll remind you we’re supposed to go out to June’s at 2:00, so keep your afternoon delight brief, okay?”
    I doubted there’d be anything delightful about Martinez’ summons.
    79

    You’d think being the girlfriend of El Presidente I’d get special perks, but no; I was still forced to enter Fat Bob’s through the back door.
    Big Mike escorted me into Tony’s private offi ce suite.
    We weren’t alone. I gave Jackal—the new Hombres enforcer—a feral smile.
    He growled.
    Since I didn’t smell food I doubted the gig with Martinez included lunch. Jackal acted like he hadn’t been fed. It didn’t help my frame of mind he looked as if given the chance he’d chew me to pieces.
    Jackal didn’t like me. I didn’t like him. Big fucking surprise.
    From the second I’d met Jackal my distrust had kicked into overdrive. Beady blue eyes, long rat brown 80

    hair and rattier beard, shaggy Fu Manchu mustache. He strutted around like a rooster with a corncob shoved up his ass.
    Bad looks and bad attitude aside, what bothered me the most was Jackal’s lack of respect for Martinez. Th e
    rest of Martinez’ Hombres brothers—be they bodyguards or employees or patched in members of the club—treated him with deference. After all, he was the Commander-in-Chief, the supreme badass of the biker universe. He held the highest offi
    ce in the Hombres organization: Na-
    tional President. His word was law.
    Jackal acted like a law unto himself. He treated Martinez’ bodyguards like idiot employees. He treated me like a low class whore. Oftentimes, and this is what fried my circuits the most, he treated Martinez like he was doing him a favor by working for him.
    But it was none of my business. I kept my mouth shut, a diffi
    cult feat for me in any situation, especially when it came to someone I cared about.
    Martinez kept me waiting while he fi nished up a phone call.
    Jackal glared at me.
    I ignored him and smoked. I wished Big Mike would bring me a beer or even a crappy microwave Chuckwag-on sandwich. Hell, I’d settle for a packet of BeerNuts or a red-hot Tijuana Mama pickled sausage.
    81

    Martinez left his cell phone on the desk and sauntered over. Instead of sliding next to me on the comfy loveseat, he straddled the hard-backed chair opposite the coff ee table.
    In front of others, Martinez stayed a respectable distance away from me and never gave any indication anything was going on between us.
    But when we were alone, I couldn’t pry him from my side with a crowbar. It bothered me and I felt ridiculous that it did. We were adults. I