by Jordan Ford
Or I’ll spot something else that might trigger another clue.
Luisa obviously knew Cairo, the way they were talking to each other, so if I’m lucky enough to see her, I’ll drop his name to make a connection and then try to pull her into a quiet corner for a chat.
I’m still not sure exactly what I’ll say to her or how I’m going to ease into my questions about why she pretended to be a detective.
Should I even ask her that? Is that too confronting? Will it make her back off completely? Or kick me out of the club?
I worry my lip as I try to figure out the best way to approach this.
“What are you so worried about, sweetness?” A guy I don’t know appears beside me.
He’s tall and lean, with an angular face and short blond hair. His blue eyes are glassy with a mixture of alcohol and lust. I swallow and inch away from him.
“Where you going?” He jumps in front of me. “Do you want to dance?”
“No thanks.” I shake my head and try to smile at him. “I’m just waiting for my boyfriend.”
He clicks his tongue and looks over his shoulder, but still doesn’t give up.
Dammit.
His breath is warm and repulsive as he gets in my space. “What’s he doing leaving you standing all alone here?”
“He’s in the bathroom,” I grit out and quickly muscle my way into the crowd.
Shit, I hope he doesn’t follow me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot his head above the crowd and roll my eyes.
He’s not going to let me get away that easily and will no doubt keep up his little flirt-a-thon until my boyfriend shows up.
Which is never.
The thought sits like a rock in my belly.
I’m positive Vincent’s been held up by his asshole relatives, and that’s why I need to be here, proof-hunting.
Finding a sheltered corner near the bathrooms, I stand on a step that leads to an emergency exit and scan the club again.
By the time my gaze has swept the floor, Mr. Blue Eyes has spotted me and is working his way over with a drink in each hand.
Shit! He obviously doesn’t buy my boyfriend story and is now set on getting me drunk too.
With a little huff, I glance over my shoulder and spot the exit sign. It’s for emergencies only and if I pop it open, some kind of alarm will no doubt go off.
Crap, I wish Vincent were here. He wouldn’t let anyone near me.
I love how protected I feel when I’m around him.
Blue Eyes is getting closer.
What am I supposed to do?
Jumping down from my spot, I weave around the tables and consider making my way to the bouncer at the front door, but then I spot an archway to my right. It probably leads backstage. If I can duck in there without the guy noticing me, he can spend the rest of the evening searching the club and maybe I can sneak out some back staff entrance or something.
Running for the black archway, I duck through it and keep walking until I reach backstage.
I pause at the end of the corridor, wondering which way to turn when low chatter catches my ear.
I’m probably not supposed to be back here, so rather than pretending to be lost and heading back out to the club, I duck behind the first door I can find.
It’s white and has a big PRIVATE sign on the front, but there’s no light coming beneath the door, and I’ll only be in here a second. It’s not like I’ll disturb anyone.
Clicking it shut as quietly as I can, I wince and rest my forehead against the wood. I’ll wait two minutes before sneaking back into the corridor.
Seriously, this is not going at all how I planned.
Not that I really planned anything, I just spontaneously jumped on a bus and came here. I’m an idiot. How am I going to explain this to anyone?
Rolling my eyes at myself, I lean my ear against the wood to try to hear if the coast is clear, but I’m distracted by a noise behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I gaze into the shadowy darkness. I must be in some kind of office. I can make out a desk shape, and that thing to my left might be a couch.
A light from the room next door pops on and I flinch as it streams through the square window in the adjoining door.
There’s a soft giggle and then some kind of whispered conversation. The woman sounds Latina. I can’t hear what she just said, but I don’t miss the husky reply from a voice that sounds totally familiar.
Where do I know that voice from?
I creep toward the light, curiosity drowning out the cautious warning in the back of my mind.
“You hungry?” the woman asks.
“Only for you.” The man’s reply is followed by a playful growl that elicits another giggle.
I’m at the window now. I shouldn’t peek. I shouldn’t look.
But I know that voice.
Resting my fingers on the edge of the frame, I slowly shift my weight until I can see clearly into the room.
It’s a small space with another couch and a desk—seems like the mirror image of this room.
There’s a woman sitting on the edge of the big black desk, her legs spread to accommodate the man standing in front of her.
They’re making out—the heated kind that will lead to sex.
I’ll be leaving before that happens, but I just want to get a look at their faces. He’s kissing her neck, causing her to moan and dig her manicured nails into his dark hair.
I swallow, my breath hitching as she tips her head back, and I see Luisa Garcia. Even though I can’t see her entire face, I can tell it’s her.
The man glides his tongue up her neck, sucking the end of her chin, before standing tall to shed his jacket.
Holy shit!
It’s Milo Carter.
Mayor of Armitage.
Holden’s dad.
Mr. Family Values.
He’s about to have sex with a married woman…who isn’t his wife. And from the way they’re acting with each other, this isn’t the first time.
I’m so shocked I can’t move. My eyes are bulging big-time as I gape at the couple about to get it on.
And suddenly a thought hits me.
Maybe I’m not the only person to witness this.
Maybe a certain reporter saw something he shouldn’t have and was going to write all about it in the Armitage Gazette.
News like that would crucify a mayor.
News like that needs to be squashed…eliminated.
Erratic breaths punch out of me as I try to wrap my head around my theory.
I’m right. I’ve got to be right.
Todd McCrae told his girlfriend that he was sitting on something big. This is huge. Was he going to blackmail the mayor?
Did they kill him in anger and then try to cover it up?
Or were they waiting with their guns at the ready? Nick’s gun at the ready.
Mayor Carter would have the money and power to squash an investigation, and with ties to someone like Luisa Garcia, and her brother Tomas Santiago, they could easily make this thing go away, while setting up Nick Mancini at the same time.
Holy crap!
I have to call Dad.
My hands are shaking as I rip the phone out of my pocket. With trembling fingers, I try to dial my father, but can’t even unlock my phone screen without dropping it.
I scramble to catch it before it hits the floor, but all I manage to do is tip the edge of it so it flings sideways and hits the metal paper basket with a loud thwack.
Silence follows the unexpected sound and I crouch down against the door, hoping if I stay quiet enough that no one will investigate.
I wait it out, praying my breathing isn’t too loud. There’s a shuffling on the other side of the door. Neither of them has said anything.
Are they walking out of the room?
My nerves get the better of me and I slowly stand, glancing into the window and letting out a scream when Milo’s glare greets me head on.
Stumbling back from
the door, I try to make an escape but he’s after me in a second, grabbing my waist and pulling me off my feet.
I scream again but he muffles the sound with his hand.
“Shut up,” he growls in my ear.
I struggle against him, kicking my legs, determined not to be frozen by fear this time. There’ll be no Vincent to rescue me, but I’ll fight like a wild cat to get out of this place.
Flailing my legs, I struggle for release as Mayor Carter drags me into the lit office.
“Shut her up.” Luisa glances at the door, urgent fear stark on her face.
“I’m trying.” Mayor Carter grunts, then roughly releases me. I hit the floor on uneven feet and stumble backward.
My hip whacks into the chair, throwing my balance. I fall with a gasp that is cut short when my head hits the edge of the desk and my world turns an instant shade of black.
36
An Unwanted Visitor
VINCENT
Selena freed me this morning. She got Enzo’s permission, of course.
He would have locked me up all weekend, but Selena has a special way of softening the guy and I’ve been released in order to go and collect protection money from the Porters and Mr. Giovanni.
I hate this job, but after my fight last night, I have to do as I’m told or the trouble will only get worse.
Diego came back from the greenhouse in a rage. I managed to convince him that Chloe must have left, or maybe she saw his dumb ass and took off before he saw her.
His eyebrows flickered with a frown and then Enzo was there asking him if he was subtle about it.
Diego couldn’t reply which means he hadn’t been subtle at all.
That started an argument between the two of them, and I was left cuffed to the bed to wallow in my anger and misery.
I’m still feeling like shit this morning, but I’m heading to Chloe’s side of town. Enzo took my keys, so I’m car-less until I return with the protection money. I don’t care that I’ll be late. I’ll find Chloe first, apologize, and then go do my freaking jobs for Enzo.
Shuffling to the bus stop, I kick the ground and scowl at the lady who’s staring at me. She frowns right back and shakes her head like I’m a naughty boy who needs a little discipline.
I roll my eyes and glare at the sidewalk.
“Vincent!”
The voice makes my head pop up.
At first I think it’s Chloe, but my insides ripple with confusion when I spot Rahn dashing across the street toward me.
What the hell is she doing here?
I glance past her shoulder and squint, trying to see if Chloe’s in her car, but Rahn’s alone.
Did Chloe send her?
Is she bringing some kind of breakup message?
“What are you doing here?” I snap, as soon as she’s within earshot.
“I’m looking for you.” Her glare is intense and out of character. Rahn’s always so happy, but right now she looks as though she wants to murder me. Shit, Chloe probably spent the night crying in the bed beside her. She’s here to lecture me and tell me I’m not good enough for her friend.
I clench my jaw and stare at the ground. “Look, I’m—”
“Where’s Chloe?” Rahn cuts me off with a shaky voice.
My head snaps up. “What?”
“I was her cover story so you guys could hang out last night. She was supposed to be back at my place before everyone got up so we could wake up together and look legit. She’s due home at ten this morning. They have a baseball game today. So, where is she? Vincent, where is she?”
“I don’t…” My air supply is cut short as I try to take this in. “I didn’t get to see her last night. I couldn’t make it.”
Rahn’s already pale skin turns a sick shade of gray, her anger giving way to all out fear. “Oh my gosh. She… But she left to see you. She was going to wait at the bus stop for you.”
“She didn’t come back to your place?” I grab Rahn’s shoulders, holding myself steady as she breaks me in half.
“No,” Rahn whispers.
“Did you call her?”
“Yes, I called her! I’ve been trying since I woke up at six. Why do you think I drove over here?”
I can’t speak as I shake my head and look around.
I’m trying to think, but it’s impossible when fear is pulsing through me like a strobe light.
Did Diego actually get to her?
Was he lying last night when he said she wasn’t there?
I’m going to kill him. If he’s even breathed near her I’m going to fucking kill him.
37
A Justifiable Death
CHLOE
My head is killing me.
I don’t want to open my eyes and acknowledge the pain.
I just want to float back into oblivion. Things don’t hurt in that black abyss. They’re not scary either.
Squinting my eyes, I creep them open and the fear that pummeled me seconds before I blacked out returns full force.
My breath hitches as I take in my surroundings. Things are still kind of blurry and blinding as my eyes struggle to focus.
Something is hurting my mouth. I wriggle my jaw and figure out that I’m gagged.
My head hurts. I reach up to investigate what feels like a lump on my forehead but my hands are tied behind my back.
I gasp and wrestle against the hard plastic tie, but that only causes more pain.
Letting out a soft whimper, I wriggle on the hard wooden floor, trying to get my bearings.
I remember Milo Carter and Luisa Garcia kissing. I saw them.
And then I dropped my phone.
I ran.
He caught me.
And then I can’t remember.
I must have fallen and hit my head.
Forcing a breath through my nose, I will my erratic heart to calm the hell down.
I need to figure out where I am.
Using the wall behind me, I nudge myself up to a sitting position. My body is aching from spending the night on the floor. Blurry dark images flash through my mind.
My limp body bobbed up and down as someone carried me over his shoulder.
I was placed on the floor and then I drifted away again.
I rotate my wrists in an effort to ease the cutting plastic, but it only makes my skin hurt more. My shoulders hurt from being forced into this position for too long.
A band of pain is wrapped around my head, but my vision has started to clear.
I can make out the room now. Light is streaming in from a skylight above me. It must be morning.
Shit. I have to get out of here.
Rahn will be crazy with worry. And then my parents are going to find out what I did.
I want my dad.
I want Vincent.
Sniffing at my self-pity, I try to focus back on the things I can control…like figuring out where I am.
The club. I caught the bus to the club last night.
I went out back. I saw what I saw.
And they’ve taken me somewhere.
I scan the sparsely furnished room. There’s a black leather couch in the corner with a glass coffee table in front. Closets line the wall in front of me, and the only other thing of note are the empty coffee mugs on the table.
Did they sit here watching me while I was passed out? Sipping on their freaking coffees?
I close my eyes to ward off the creepy chills climbing my spine.
I feel sick.
Tears threaten to blur my vision, but I quickly blink them away. I need to think. I need to get to a phone and call for help.
I might not know where I am, but I can tell them where I was.
Pushing my back against the wall, I inch my way up like a caterpillar until I’m on my feet. My ankles are tied so I’m going to have to jump to the door. I’ll try not to make too much noise.
Pulling in a breath, I steady myself and make a little leap forward, but as soon as I land my world tips sideways and I’m crashing to th
e floor. I manage to stick out my elbow and stop my head from hitting the wood, but pain radiates up my arm.
I groan and roll onto my back, which hurts so I push over onto my side again and go still when I hear voices outside the door.
“Well, we have to think of something! We can’t just leave her here!” a woman snaps.
It must be Luisa.
“I’m not killing her.”
“Milo, she has to go. She’s seen too much.”
“Can’t we just pay her off…or scare her into silence?”
“Because it worked so well last time?” Luisa’s voice pitches. “That turned into a complete mess.”
“Only because you pulled the trigger.”
“We knew that might be a possibility, that’s why we covered ourselves. He was asking too much, and I didn’t trust him not to take our money and then publish the story anyway! You’ve seen the photos. They’d destroy us. Your career would be down the toilet, not to mention the fact that my husband will kill me if he knows what I’ve been doing with you. We killed McCrae for our own safety, and we got away with it.”
“It’s not going to work like that this time!” Milo argues. “I can’t kill Barlow’s daughter. He’s nothing like Tannon. He will not stop looking until he finds her killer, and he will dig for all the right evidence. He’ll bring in support from the FBI if he has to. That guy cannot be stopped. He can’t be scared off or paid off.”
“You never should have offered him that job,” she clips. “I told you it was a mistake.”
“Yeah, well, he seemed kind of power hungry, hating his current job. You know the council was putting pressure on me to find someone new. We needed stability after the murder and I wanted to be the guy to supply it. The election’s coming up soon and I need to look good. I thought he’d be easy enough to manipulate. I did him a favor, he owed me one. But he’s turning out to be way more by the book than I expected. He wasn’t like that in college, I swear.” Mayor Carter huffs. “The point is, we can’t kill his kid.”
“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” Luisa sighs and rubs her forehead—I can tell by the way her shadow is moving.
Suddenly the door bursts open.