“Yes ma’am,” Michael said. “Ten thousand for information leading to the arrest and conviction of Chains.”
We could have offered a hundred thousand, because Chains would never be arrested or convicted. He needed to die horribly and swiftly, preferably after he ratted out his crew. Leslie didn’t know that, though, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in her brain, going over ways she could spend the money. Forcing her mouth into a frown, she looked back to me.
“A reward like that and Glenda would turn him in herself,” she reasoned, letting Chains’s mom’s name slip out.
“We’re gonna need a last name too,” Michael said.
“Rollins. Glenda Rollins. She lives in a little two-bedroom house on Heart Avenue, across the street from an auto shop.”
“Chains’s real name?” I asked.
She looked from me to Michael, and then whispered, “Arthur. Arthur Rollins.”
Michael and I thanked her for her time, took down her name and phone number for the imaginary reward, and headed to Heart Avenue to check up on Glenda Rollins. It was almost nine p.m. by the time we parked in front of a small canary-yellow bungalow across the street from a graffiti-covered auto repair shop. A boarded up abandoned house was Glenda Rollins’s closest neighbor. With the windows dark and no car in the driveway we figured nobody was home, but knocked anyway. No answer, so we left our pager numbers with the neighbors and headed for a payphone to check in with Carlo.
Carlo said he’d send in a team to keep watch over the house and told us to get back to hitting up the restaurants. I dragged my tired ass back to Michael’s car, and we continued our search.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Annetta
TRUE TO HIS word, Dominico picked me up and took me to work the next day. When I finished my shift, he was once again leaning against the wall by the back door, waiting. It made me realize that other than during my interview I had yet to see him actually working in the restaurant. I’d asked a couple of the kitchen staff about him, but they all looked at me like I was crazy.
Brandon went so far as to insist we didn’t have security and recommended I stay far away from anyone who pretended to hold the position. But Dominicohadbeen present during my interview, had been a perfect gentleman while driving me to and from work, and I couldn’t deny the little thrill I got from finding him waiting for me.
“Hey, how was work?” he asked, taking my backpack from me.
“Busy. Crazy. I think Collin’s gonna blow a gasket over this dinner coming up.” Then my brain kicked in and reminded me that Dominico and my boss were probably close, and that I should keep my big mouth shut. “I mean, I know it’s gotta be stressful for him, and I don’t mean to sound critical, I just wish he wasn’t so…”
“Wound up?” Dominico provided.
I nodded. “Yeah. At least I finally got him to filter his freakouts through me, rather than going directly to the staff. It’s helping me earn their respect.”
“Wait, he yells at you?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “And you want him to?”
I shrugged. “He growls, but doesn’t bite. I can take it. And it’s part of the job, you know? I signed up for this, and I’m glad he’s trusting me to do my job. But enough about my drama, how was your day?” I took a good look at Dominico, noting his rumpled suit and bloodshot eyes. “I’m guessing… rough?”
“You could say that.” He gestured me toward the parking lot and we started walking. “The boss is riding my ass about this dinner, too. I’ve got some things to take care of so I can focus on security. Lots to do, unfortunately.”
“I hear ya.”
He opened the car door for me and I slid in. When Dominico got behind the steering wheel, he turned to face me and said, “Right now I could go for a nice cold beer, though. You feel like grabbin’ a drink?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
I sniffed my hair. “For one, I smell like I’ve been cooking for eight hours. For two, I’m still wearing my uniform.”
“So? People will know you work. It’s not a big deal.” His voice took on a pleading tone. “Come on, Annetta. It sounds like you could use a beer as much as I can.”
A drink did sound good. More than that, I kind of enjoyed Dominico’s company and wanted to spend a little more time with him. My best friend had been out of town with her family on vacation for more than a week now, and I missed just hanging out with someone. Still, I resisted. “I’m not much of a beer person.”
“Great. We’ll go somewhere that serves everything. What do you like?”
“Fruity drinks, low on the alcohol.”
“I know just the spot,” he said, starting the car.
