Sins (Vance Davis Dossier #2) (4 page)

“I’m sorry–do I know you?”

“It’s me, Anthony. You know, Crazy Marie said she saw you but we all just chalked it up to her being, well, crazy.”

“Right, Anthony. How the hell are you, man?” Vance vaguely recalled the man. He was a hanger-on. He’d considered himself a friend of Spence’s, too dumb to realize the friendship would last only as long as his wallet did. Or maybe he knew but didn’t care.

“Good, good. Gotta admit it hasn’t been the same around here since you and Spence took off. I’d heard you both died.”

“Nah, just pissed off the wrong guy. Figured it was best to lay low a while.”

“Are you back?” His voice rose with hope.

“In the flesh.” Vance held his arms out.

Anthony let out a triumphant whoot. “All right. What should we do first?”

“What do you mean?”

“We gotta celebrate. What do you want to do first?”

“You tell me.” Vance shrugged. “I’ve been dead for over five years, remember?”

“Right. Right. There’s usually a card game in the back room.” Anthony nodded towards the closed door.

“Why the hell not?” The bartender didn’t look thrilled, but he buzzed them in nonetheless.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark, smoky room. It didn’t take him long to figure out that the men glaring at him would take him to the cleaners if he sat at this table, though. He was a terrible poker player. It was just as well, though. Losing money to someone was a good way to loosen their lips.

“Hey, Anthony, who’s this?” The dealer nodded towards Vance.

“Vance Davis.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” The dealer asked, even as recognition dawned on the face of the chubby man to his right.

“I know you. Aren’t you dead?”

Vance chuckled ruefully. “That’s what I hear.”

“Kevin.” The man nodded in lieu of shaking hands.

“Good to meet you.” Vance nodded back.

“He’s cool, man,” Kevin assured the dealer. “Used to be one of Spence’s boys.”

“Used to be?” The dealer arched an eyebrow.

“I’ve been laying low for a bit.”

The dealer motioned to a seat, appeased by Vance’s explanation. As the rules were explained and a new hand dealt, Vance accepted the drink offered him by a young girl in a short skirt and tight t-shirt. He settled in, the words only partly sinking in as he surveyed his opponents. None of them gave the appearance of having money, but they didn’t hesitate to peel layers of cash off to throw in the kitty, either.

By the time he’d lost his first hand, conversation was flowing freely all around him. Luckily, losing didn’t take much attention. That freed up his mind to soak in the words as his eyes followed the girl. He wondered how old she was; his best guess was 15. With black hair, startling blue eyes, and alabaster skin, she was striking, but there was a vacancy in her expression that was hard to place. Either she was hooked on something, or she had mentally checked out to keep from going insane. Maybe both.

By the time he lost his second hand, the laughter had gotten raucous and the drinks flowed even more freely. Kevin and Anthony kept the little party entertained with stories of Vance’s exploits “back in the day.” It amused him how the stories had grown in his absence.

He lost his third round by watching the girl more than his hand. Every time she brought a drink or refilled snacks, he let his eyes linger, their fingers brush. He hoped his show wouldn’t go unnoticed, and it didn’t.

“You know,” the dealer drew his words out thoughtfully. “As much as I love fleecing you at poker, I get the feeling your mind is somewhere else, Vance.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s a good thing Spence didn’t pay me for my poker skills, huh?”

“It’s a wonder you were able to keep your hands off the merchandise long enough to do your job.” The response was wry.

Vance lifted his eyebrows. “Well, I have been dead for five years now.”

“It’ll cost if you want that one to wake you up.” Both Vance and the dealer looked at the girl.

“If I’m leaving without my money anyway…” Vance let his words drift off. The girl cast a glance at Vance before dropping her gaze. He wondered what it felt like to be an item up for purchase. He licked his lips. “Name your price.”

“How long?”

“The night.”

The dealer wrote on a scrap of paper and slid it over to Vance. He glanced down, pretending to debate for a moment before flashing a bright smile at the other men at the table. “Gentlemen, I leave you to your game. It’s been a pleasure.”

He paid for his prize and tucked her under his arm. She seemed eager to melt into his side. He wondered if she was good at her job or if she sensed he was there to help her. Either way, he didn’t waste any time leading her to his truck. He couldn’t take her back to his hotel room, not with Allie there, so he drove to his old apartment on Cherokee Street. He’d kept it for sentimental reasons, but now he was glad he had. He hadn’t planned on using it or announcing his return to life, but since that cat was out of the bag anyway, it seemed silly to rent a second hotel room for the same night.

He’d barely gotten through the door with her when she was all over him, pressing her body into his as her mouth greedily explored any exposed flesh it could find. Wrapping one huge hand around each arm, he picked her up and set her an arm’s length away from him. “Not so fast.”

Her brow crinkled in confusion.

“What’s your name?”

“Valentine.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” He doubted it was her real one. “Now Valentine, what do you like on your pizza?”

“I don’t understand.” She looked like she was going to burst into tears.

“I haven’t been to St. Louis in a long time. I gotta get an Imo’s pizza. I’ll get you one, too. What do you want on it? I’m getting sausage on mine.”

She blinked. “Oh. Um. Bacon?”

“Right on. Do you want salad?”

“Sure.” Valentine eyed him warily. “I still don’t think I understand.”

“Can you keep a secret?” Vance moved away from the door, going to look up the phone number he’d once had memorized.

She nodded.

“When I left, I took off with a girl.
The
girl.”

“Where is she now?” Valentine glanced around the apartment.

“She died. About a year ago. It wrecked me in the worst possible way. I’m still not sane.”

“So why buy me?”

Vance shrugged. “Can’t lose face with the guys. It wouldn’t do my reputation much good if they knew I was mooning over some girl, you know?”

She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. “I guess.”

“You cold?”

“A little.”

“Be right back.” Vance headed towards his bedroom, the phone to his ear so he could order the pizza while he searched for an extra shirt. He reappeared a moment later to toss a hockey jersey at her.

“Brett Hull? It’s been, like, a billion years since he played, you know.” She slid the jersey on over her clothes.

“And there’ll never be another like him. I still remember watching him as a kid.”

“So, uh, what do you want to do?”

“Do we have to do anything? Can’t you just enjoy a night off?” He countered.

“You were a night off. There’s only one of you.”

Vance inwardly winced. “Well, now it’s a veritable vacation.”

“I don’t know if I can handle just sitting here all night.” Valentine flitted around the apartment, taking in the artwork hanging on the exposed brick walls.

“I have a foosball table in the spare room,” Vance suggested.

Valentine gave him a wry look. “If you were into kinky stuff, you could have just said so.”

“No, really. I have a foosball table in there. For playing foosball. It’s a game.”

“I know what foosball is.” She rolled her eyes.

“I was beginning to wonder.”

“Are you better at foosball than you are at poker?”

Vance cracked a grin at that. “Only one way to find out.”

As it turned out, they were both pretty good at foosball. The more heated the game got, the more the awkwardness between them fell away. When the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their pizzas, it surprised them both.

Vance tipped the driver and closed the door, practically drooling over the boxes as he set them on the counter. “Want to eat at the table?”

“Here looks great.” Valentine hopped up on the counter, snagging a piece of pizza without preamble.

“Works for me.” Vance snagged a piece of his own, unable to suppress the groan that escaped with his first bite. He closed his eyes and savored the experience.

“Dude. You are way too excited about that pizza.”

“Don’t steal my joy.”

They ate in silence for a while. It was Valentine who finally spoke. “What was the girl’s name?”

Vance took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Harmony.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“She was a pretty woman. Inside and out.”

Valentine caressed him with her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too. You know what really sucks? That she’d still be alive if she hadn’t left with me. In a way, I killed her.”

“I bet you were worth it.” Valentine reached out to touch his arm, pulling her hand back as if burned when his eyes met hers.

“Thanks for that.”

“I uh, I ran off with a boy once.”

“Yeah?” Vance sensed she was getting ready to tell him something useful. “Was he
the
boy?”

“I thought so. Turns out he wasn’t.” Valentine was trying to sound nonchalant. Trying and failing.

“Where is he now?” Vance asked gently, afraid he’d spook her if he pushed too hard.

She blinked, her eyes darting about the room, looking anywhere but at him.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Around. But he kind of disappeared after he dropped me off.”

“Dropped you off?”

“With Andy. The guy you bought me from.”

“Ah.”

“Are you going to share that salad?” Valentine shut the conversation down. Vance let it rest for the moment, though he had every intention of circling back when the opportunity arose. Once their bellies were so full they ached, the pair played a foosball rematch. She was accusing him of cheating and demanding three out of five when he realized what time it was.

“Actually, my dear Valentine, I just realized that I’m late for an appointment. If I leave you here alone for an hour or so, will you be okay?”

She seemed to retreat into herself with his question but nodded. “Sure. Yeah.”

“I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important. I’ll be back as soon as I can, though.”

“Just go already.”

“I mean it. Hang around. Unless you’re afraid I’ll whoop your ass at foosball again.”

“Whatever.” She laughed, visibly relaxed at his joking.

He locked the door behind him when he left. The entire way to the diner on 7th, his mind was busy concocting a plan that, if all went well, would rescue Valentine and lead him straight to the supplier. Of course, if it went poorly, it would probably get him killed.

LITTLE Z WAS EASY TO SPOT.
It was the steak and eggs that gave him away. That, and the irony of his name. Towering above the rest of the world at six-foot-four, there was nothing little about the man. Not that Vance could see, anyway.

Vance had already made unexpected inroads with Valentine, so he didn’t push his luck by approaching Little Z right away. It made more sense to take his time to become an accepted fixture in the overnight crowd at the dingy little place. He ordered some hash browns and a cup of coffee, still too full from his pizza to think about anything more substantial than that. Even so, as he stared down at the butter-laden potatoes, he could almost picture Harmony clawing her way out of the grave just to tan his hide for two indulgences in one evening.

That’s all it took for him to blink back tears. He ducked his head, hoping nobody around him noticed the unexpected display of emotion. Conversation drifted around him. A pair of lovers sat curled around each other in the corner. Piano players from a bar on the Landing unwound after their workday. A couple of strippers from an underground club around the corner shared pancakes with their bouncer. The occasional drunk would stumble in to order a vile concoction consisting of breakfast foods slathered in chili, cheese, and onions. There was a steady rhythm to the third shift of any diner. Vance remembered it well; he’d once been a part of it.

In fact, on the rare occasion he risked being seen with Jessie off-hours, they’d grab hash browns and a cup of coffee together in a dive not unlike this one. Of course, they never told Harmony or Spence. Harmony would have been appalled at their eating habits. Spence would have gone into a jealous rage over Jessie.

The more he thought about those days, the more he was filled with a longing to see Jessie. His mind drifted to the last meal he and Jessie and Harmony had shared together. They’d grabbed Mexican from a little place right across from their apartments. Then they’d sat in the sunshine enjoying their taquitos, laughing and pretending everything was normal even though they’d all known things were about to change.

If Harmony’s death had sent Vance into a drunken depression, it was better than the reaction he’d had when he’d mistakenly believed Jessie was dead. If he closed his eyes and thought about it for any length of time, he could still see the look on Spence’s face when Aleksander shot him. He could still remember the sickening twist in his stomach when the gunfire had turned to Jessie.

Unbeknownst to him at the time, she had intentionally fallen back into the murky waters of the Mississippi, figuring her chances were better in the inky black river than they were in the boat. It had been months before she’d been able to get word to him that she was okay. In that time, he’d assumed she was dead—that she’d died with him standing futilely by, unable to stop it.

After that, he’d been a man on a mission. He began taking out the members of the gang that had hurt his angel, one by one—tossing them each in the Mississippi. It seemed only fair that their resting place be the same as hers.

Only Jessie hadn’t died. Not knowing who to trust, she’d gone into hiding. When word reached her that someone was killing off members of Aleksander’s crew, she had instantly known it was him and risked her life to stop him before he’d been caught or worse.