Tough Guy: A Hero Club Novel by Jamie Schmidt (the reading list .TXT) 📗

schedule a pedicure. I wouldn’t even expense it to Lisa if she called Mom this week.

“Nah, but my senses were a little dulled by all that tequila.”

“Where are you guys now?”

“We’re grabbing something to eat and trying to decide if we want to gamble or go looking for trouble.”

“Are you guys up for a road trip?”

“What have you got in mind?”

“Lisa was spotted at the Moondust Cherry Ranch in Pahrump. That’s about two hours from here.”

“Cherry Ranch, huh?”

“Chicken Ranch,” I said.

“That’s a big step from stripper.”

“She was bartending two weeks ago there, but I’m worried she might have expanded her job search to the other ranches and other occupations. Do you think your friends could go to the neighboring . . . um . . . brothels and look for Lisa?”

Chance laughed for a good half a minute. “Let me get this straight, luv. You want me to convince this bunch to go look around a house of ill repute.”

I winced. “Several of them, actually. You know prostitution is legal there, right?”

“I am aware,” he said solemnly. “Okay, let me see if I can tear these louts from their burgers. Oi, you want to go to a crib and check out some Mollies?”

“Bonzer!” seemed to be the response.

“I don’t know, Jackie luv. They seem to want to go out in the desert and watch some bush telly.”

“I’m not sure I even want to know what that means,” I said.

“It means if your sister is out there, I’ll find her.”

“Thanks, Chance.”

There was a knock on my door.

“I’ve got to go. If you find out anything call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“You got it.”

Sloshing out of the tub, I wrapped the robe around myself. I hoped it was Miles, but it was room service. I should have gotten the fries, I thought. At least for myself. I signed the receipt, tipping well. I was feeling hopeful and wanted to pass along the good karma vibes. After the delivery person left, I devoured half the sandwich before remembering it was late at night and I should probably take it easy. But I was so hungry I wound up eating both sandwiches.

“I warned him,” I said as I took both bowls of pasta salad and sat in the enormous king-size bed. I turned on the television and binge-watched reruns of The Big Bang Theory until I fell asleep.

Miles Carvello

“At least it’s not raining,” Highway grumbled.

I couldn’t even speak I was so angry. It was bad enough they evacuated my bar, but they also locked it down until the gas company sent someone out. It was hurry up and wait, so I sent the staff home, promising to pay them for the wasted night. Highway had decided to stay because he apparently thought I wanted the company.

I didn’t.

We were told to stand as far away from the building as possible. I went across the street and paced up and down in front of the pawn shop until the owner shooed me away. I settled for leaning against the bail bondsman’s wall and glared at the gas truck and the workers milling around trying to get a reading. They weren’t going to get one because there wasn’t a damn leak.

“This is bullshit. If we were on the Strip, we’d be back up again in the hour.”

Liu would have noticed if there had been a gas leak. Certainly, Highway would have. No, this had been an anonymous tip that was credible enough that the city cut the gas for the entire block and sent out an ambulance and a couple of squad cars until the gas company got there. Seeing the area cordoned off made me want to rip down and shred the tape. It reminded me of what Uncle Johnny’s club had looked like after the fire.

“Somebody’s fucking with us. I bet it’s those twat frat boys. I bet someone’s daddy is in on it.”

I grunted. It was possible.

“Did you pay protection to the Rivs?” Highway asked quietly.

That stopped me in my tracks. “No. They tried the gang shit with me two years ago. I told them to fuck off then and when they tried to make it ugly, I made it costly for them to continue on with the protection racket on my club. Leonidas and I have an understanding.”

Leonidas had a gang of thugs with their fingers in all sorts of nasty areas. Lucky for me, drugs paid off better than protection rackets.

Highway sniffed. “Then maybe it was these assholes”—he jerked his thumb in the direction of the pawn shop and the bail bondsman—“that called in the fake gas leak. They’re shelling out fifteen percent a week. Maybe they don’t like that you’re not.”

The pawn shop was owned by two German brothers who hated both Uncle Johnny’s club and, most recently, my club. They thought we cost them customers. I had told them if they kept the same hours as I did, they might pick up some business from tourists looking for quick cash. I remembered wanting to buy a laptop from them before I went off to Europe. My uncle bought me a brand-new one and told me to never give them a dime. The bail bonds office was owned by a snowbird from Massachusetts who couldn’t care less about anything but his skip tracers. I had thought about going into that line of work, but being a bouncer paid better.

“Fuck,” I said, shaking my head. I really hoped the drug sales in my bar linked back to the Rivs. They might not have been the ones to burn down Uncle Johnny’s, but they were getting more dangerous as they gained more power. Grier was probably asleep right now, otherwise I’d give him a call and see if we could speed things up and maybe meet tonight.

“It’s the cost of doing business. And if Ginny was their mole inside the bar, or the other three missing idiots—four if you count your girlfriend’s sister—”

“Are you really going there?” I tilted my head