Fierce Obsession: LA Ruthless: Book 4 (L.A. Ruthless Series)

It’s almost midnight by the time I get to Rocky’s bar on Menville. I called the unknown number on my father’s phone again a few times on the way here, but as I’d known it would be, it’s still out of service.

The place is almost empty when I walk inside. A few guys sit at the bar and a couple sit in the corner kissing, while another group of kids barely out of college shoot pool. There is only one guy serving, and I assume it’s Rocky junior. This was his old man’s place, but he died a few years back from lung cancer.

He tips his chin at me when I take a seat on one of the worn leather stools. “Can I get ya?”

“You know Harvey Decker?”

“Nope,” he says with a shake of his head.

I suppose he might not. I mean, back in the day when the place was owned by his old man, my father was one of their best customers, but since he got sober ten years ago, he doesn’t frequent such establishments any longer.

Still, I find it hard to believe that anyone in this town hasn’t at least heard of my father. It’s a small place where far too many people know each other’s business.

“The guy who got busted up outside your bar earlier?” I jog his memory.

“Oh, that guy?” he nods his head. “Never seen him before tonight.”

“And you saw him in here tonight?”

Rocky junior smirks at me and my hand immediately balls into a fist. I am in exactly the right mood for beating the shit out of someone, and he might just be the lucky recipient. “Maybe. What do you wanna know for? You a cop?”

“Do I look like a cop?”

“Naw,” he shakes his head.

“So, did you see him or not, dipshit?” I snarl.

He narrows his eyes at me, sizing me up and wondering if I’m worth making an enemy of. Even if he doesn’t know my name, I have half a foot and fifty pounds of muscle on the guy. “Yeah. He sat right there. Ordered a club soda. Drank it and then he left.”

“Did he talk to anyone?”

“Not that I saw, but I wasn’t eyeballing the guy all night. I got customers to deal with,” he says with a shrug.

“Anyone follow him when he left?”

He smirks and shrugs again and the lid blows off my temper. Reaching across the bar, I grab him by the throat. “I asked you a fucking question, fuck-face. Did anybody leave behind him?”

He shakes his head as much as he can now that I have him by the throat. “No,” he croaks.

Glancing around, I see we’ve drawn the attention of everyone in the bar and I let him go.

“Heard some folks say it was son responsible though,” he adds, rubbing at the red skin of his neck.

“What?” I frown at him.

“Hates him by all accounts,” he says.

I’m seconds away from smashing his face into the solid wooden bar when that jackass Sheriff Hicks sits on a stool beside me.

“Trouble here, Rock?” he asks, giving me a side-eye.

I glare at Rocky, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“This guy was just asking about the incident here tonight,” Rocky says.

“You remember anything else since we last spoke?” Hicks asks him.

“Nope. Told you everything I know.”

“Good,” Hicks says then turns to me. “This is a police investigation, son, so leave the investigating to me.”

Son? He’s about five fucking years older than I am. I take a deep breath and shake my head. I swear to God I’m going to get arrested for murder before the night is over.

Rocky places a shot of bourbon on the bar for Hicks and I look at it and then back at him.

“I don’t see you doing much investigating, Sheriff,” I snarl. “I know you already know who I work for, and what I do back in LA.” I jump off my stool and can’t help but smile when he flinches. “You ever call me son again and I will give you a practical demonstration of my talents.”

He glares at me and I walk away, before I get my ass tossed in jail for threatening a law enforcement officer.

I head to the parking lot and to my father’s truck. It’s still open so I take a look inside. What kind of investigation is Hicks running when this is just sitting here for anyone to tamper with? If there were any evidence in here, it would be useless now.

I rummage around but there’s nothing in here that offers me any clues. A half packet of Lifesavers. An empty soda bottle on the passenger seat and an old chew toy of Blue’s in the footwell.

My father keeps a clean truck. It smells of him though — of wood shavings and cologne. It’s a brand he’s used since I was a kid. A memory of him winking at me in the mirror while I watched him shave rushes back from some deep recess in my mind.

I’ve forgotten that there were some good times. He was getting ready to take my mom out for dinner. They used to go on a date one night every week before his drinking got real bad. Molly would look after me. She’s only nine years older than me and she practically lived with us back then.

I sit on the seat in his truck and let the memory settle over me, but then Rocky’s words come back to me too. Some people said I was responsible for the attack on him — that I hate him. Do I?

I hate that he let me and my mom down. I hate the man he became. But the man before that? The guy who used to sit me on his tractor and who taught me how to shave and drive? No, that guy was my hero. It was why it hurt so damn much when he let me and my mom walk out of his lives forever.

Climbing out of his truck, I scan the parking lot quickly and then I check the exterior of the building. No cameras that I can see. Damn!

There’s nothing else on this strip either. The place is all but deserted. It’s the kind of place I’d choose if I was going to beat someone half to death and I didn’t want to be seen or recognized.

I walk to my truck and decide to head back to the hospital to pick up Lucia and Molly. It’s late and there’s nothing more I can do tonight. Besides, Lucia is flying back to LA tomorrow and I intend to spend the rest of this night buried so deep inside her that I can forget about everything but her.