Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
Zane
I say goodbye to Stella, but I don’t go back to the penthouse like I said I would. I want to watch the feed from Nathalie’s and Stella’s cameras, but the video doesn’t show me anything I haven’t seen before and the music’s bass drowns out a lot of what they’re saying. A dancer relays her story to Stella about her intelligence, or lack thereof, and I sigh. Mel pats my arm. “You can’t save everyone,” she says. “You’ll go crazy trying.”
Nathalie sounds like she’s attending a high school reunion—the men and women working at the club never leave her alone. I don’t know why I thought I was doing her a favor. She’s in her element.
A woman wearing a waitress’s uniform—slinky black dress and a Ladies and Gentleman nametag—approaches Nat, and Nat asks, “Is it set up?”
The waitress replies, “Yeah, just like you asked, and there’s a party later if you can lose your ball and chain.”
I don’t know if she’s referring to Stella and Quinn or to me.
Nathalie laughs and says, “Thanks.”
Mel and I trade a look.
I watch Quinn and Stella join her at the table after exploring, and my heart resumes a more natural rhythm. I didn’t like Stella going off on her own, and when Stella met Quinn downstairs, I felt as relieved as Quinn looked. I’ve only been to the club a couple of times, once to support Ash at his ribbon-cutting ceremony, another on his thirtieth birthday, and seeing the upstairs through Stella’s “eyes” was new to me. I prefer my relationships to have more substance. I suppose if anyone looked at my relationship with Nathalie they could argue I don’t need that much more, but I prefer stilted conversation and manufactured intimacy over shoving hundred dollar bills into a woman’s ass crack and vying for her attention against a million other drooling pricks.
Nat says she found someone for them to talk to, and Mel and I lean forward.
We’re finally getting somewhere.
The women’s heels echo as they click against the tile of a back hallway. Stella’s walking behind Nathalie, Nat’s hair swaying over her bare back. That’s another part of the club I haven’t seen. Ash never bothered to show me his office. Maybe he’s always been hiding what he doesn’t want me to see.
Nathalie knocks on a door, and it swings open revealing a dark room. She steps aside.
Stella hesitates, and Nat says, “It’s okay. She’s just being careful. You know what Ash will do to her if he finds out she’s a snitch.”
They step into the dark, Mel and I hear the door close, and then, nothing.
Nat’s and Stella’s feeds cut to nothing.
Mel mutters, “Fuck.”
A moment later, my cell phone chimes, and I jolt. “Nat, what’s going on?”
“We’re okay,” she says. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Are you sure? Mel’s upset. What happened to your feed?”
“Yes, we’re fine. Mel doesn’t have to freak out. My source got scared and bailed, and we took the cameras off. There’s nothing else to see. We were invited to a party and won’t need them.”
I heard that part, but it doesn’t calm me down. I don’t like not being connected to Stella. “Did you find out anything?” I ask, but we’ve listened to their entire evening and I know they didn’t.
“No, but we’re hoping at the party . . .”
Mel pushes buttons trying to reconnect the feed. “I don’t like this,” she murmurs, her screen blank, the audio silent. “Maybe you should ask them to come back to the hotel.”
It makes sense that whoever it is Nat found to talk to won’t open her mouth on Ash’s property. I would be nervous double-crossing him, too. “Okay. Be careful,” I say against my better judgment. I would love to ask them to come back, but we need the information they might find out. I want to ask to speak to Stella, but Nat says, “I’ll take care of her, Zane. I know how much you love her.” Without saying goodbye, she disconnects.
“Did that seem quick to you?” Mel asks.
Uneasily, I shrug. “Nothing about this is going to feel normal. Nat might be edgy. She doesn’t want to get caught any more than Quinn and Stella do, and the more people we bring into this, the less safe it is for all of us. It’s probably better they don’t talk there.”
She closes her laptop. “I guess you’re right.”
“You’re tired. They could be out all night. Why don’t you go to bed?”
Mel’s been working double time with Banks to help him unlock Denton’s funds, something Clayton Black has been alerted to by now. She’s also been digging into Clayton’s business dealings, the ones that appear legitimate on the outside. So far, she hasn’t found much except he has City Hall in his pocket, but we already knew that. Huxley’s rap sheet is getting longer. He’s into more than just hookers, but I couldn’t expect anything less with him kissing Clayton’s and Ash’s asses.
She follows my advice and goes to her room, and I’m left alone in Max’s suite. He went to bed a while ago, as did Zarah and Ingrid. Denton hung out with Mel and me, sipping a cup of coffee and listening to Stella’s feed—he’s still protective of her—but the goings on of a strip club didn’t interest him and he went to his room about an hour ago.
I won’t get any sleep until Nathalie, Quinn, and Stella are safely back at the Crowne and I can see for myself Stella’s okay.
The aroma from Denton’s coffee hangs in the air, and I make a cup and surf the net on my phone. Truth or Dare is busy speculating about Ash’s gala and reporting his every move. He’s still spending an inordinate amount of time with Nora Guthrie, and she looks right at home by his side.
Other websites speculate how I’m doing without Stella, regurgitating the clip of me standing outside the hospital struggling to speak and question if I’m in love with Nathalie at all. It’s difficult to watch, and I scroll past. The sites that are more fashion oriented follow her around the city and report on the designers of her clothes, how much they cost, and wondering if, as my wife, she’ll start any new trends.
Shallow.
Hollow.
I defended how I lived to Stella, but I see my life through her eyes now.
Frivolous.
Sex, booze, and money.
I put my phone to sleep. I might as well lie down, but I don’t want to be in the Honeymoon Suite alone and I’ll camp out on Max’s couch. I want to know the minute Nat, Quinn, and Stella are back. I drain my coffee cup and push away from the conference table.
Douglas bursts into the room, and I stand quickly, startled. “What’s wrong?”
“Ashton Black took Stella and Quinn,” he says hoarsely, his face red. I’ve never seen him this rattled, and a cold sweat covers my skin.
“Slow down and start at the beginning.” I pour a couple fingers of scotch into lowball glass and push it into his shaking hand.
He gulps it down and sets the glass on the bar. “I dropped Miss Barton at Ladies and Gentlemen. Quinn and Stella—” he stutters— “Miss Sawyer and Miss Mayfair, were already there, waiting outside the club. Miss Barton appeared to know the security watching the door, and the bouncers let them past the line. You didn’t give me further instructions, and in those cases, I wait nearby.”
I nod. I give Douglas a fair degree of flexibility and often let him do as he pleases—especially if I know I’ll be a while. Nat has Douglas’ number programmed into her phone, and she knows she can ask him to pick her up whenever she needs.
“There’s an Irish pub behind the club, and I used the restroom and ordered a soda and something to eat.”
I know the pub he’s talking about. One of my clients likes how they build their Guinnesses, and when we have business lunches, he often prefers to eat there. On the east side, a patio attached to the bar butts against the staff parking lot of Ladies and Gentlemen. They also have rooftop seating, but the strip club’s loud music ruins the ambience. I thought about buying the pub, but I didn’t follow through. I’ve heard people buy beer to drink while they wait in line to get inside Ladies and Gentlemen, and I didn’t need the headache.
“I went up to the rooftop for some air and to stretch my legs. I didn’t know how much longer Miss Barton would be, and I wanted to stay close. A black van drove into the back lot of the club, and Miss Barton came out, hanging on Mr. Black...Ash. The two security men who let them into the club shoved Stella and Quinn into the back of the van. Mr. Black sat in the front. A different car picked up Miss Barton, Nathalie, and they drove off.”
I inhale a deep breath through my nose. “Then what happened?”
“I ran downstairs. I lost them, and I started to panic. An ambulance stopped the van just long enough I was able to spot it, and I followed them to the shipyard on Industrial Avenue. The van parked near a cargo ship, but I couldn’t get close without giving myself away. I parked behind a warehouse and went after them on foot, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Mr. Black, Ash,” he fumbles in his has haste to get the story out, “tied Stella’s and Quinn’s hands behind their backs, and after some harsh words, Miss Barton’s, too. Another woman was with them, Eleanor Guthrie.”
He taps on his cell phone and hands it to me, a picture of the group on the screen. The photo is grainy, like Douglas had to zoom in as close as he could but was still too far away to take a clear shot. The lighting is terrible, and I can barely identify anyone. I don’t recognize the two bouncers. Stella’s copper-colored hair reflects the glow from the shipyard security lights. Quinn’s beside her, but with her black hair and dark red dress, the shadows swallow her. Nora’s standing near Ash, and Nat’s white cocktail dress is the only thing that pops against the black night.
“Miss Barton said something to Mr. Black and Miss Guthrie, and he pushed her into the river. There is no chance she survived, Zane. I’m sorry.”
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes and try to relieve the headache building in my skull. Ash killed Nathalie. He must have known she was helping me dig up dirt on him.
Fuck.
“What happened to Stella and Quinn?”
“The two toughs from the club dragged them onto the cargo ship. I couldn’t see more unless I followed, and I didn’t want to call attention to myself. I drove directly here. I’m sorry. I should have tried—”
I cut him a sharp glance. “No. You did the right thing.”
“What are you going to do?” Douglas tries to pour another drink, but his hands are trembling too terribly, and I rescue the decanter and trickle an inch of scotch into the lowball glass.
“We let the whole world know what Ash’s doing. Because of his sudden interest in Nora Guthrie, I have every reason to believe once that ship reaches its destination, Stella and Quinn will be sold at auction to the highest bidder.” I push back the image of Stella kneeling under a spotlight, her hands bound behind her back, tears running down her face, and rich, dangerous, lethal men, deciding how much she’s worth.
I extract as much information out of him as I can. He couldn’t see the name of the ship, and that will slow us down. Those goddamned things all look alike. If it’s already set sail, it won’t get far, but we’ll need time to search the river. Now that Ash has Stella and Quinn on board, he’ll move quickly.
Mel’s only had a couple hours of sleep, but she whips into action. Max, too, dives onto his computer and starts writing an article that could win him the Pulitzer.
Banks and I have had a little contact since I confronted him in my office, and tonight, he sounds receptive to assisting us, possibly hoping to cancel out the past five years he’s been keeping secrets from me.
“What do you have?” he asks, alert.
I repeat what Douglas saw.
“They’ll need days to sail out of the Great Lakes Waterway,” Banks murmurs, sounding distracted. “I’m looking at a map. I’ll contact the field office in King’s Crossing. I’ve worked with Special Agent in Charge Daria Nordstrom in the past. She’s very efficient, good at her job, and runs a smart team.”
“I want to be there.”
“There’s nothing you can do, at least, not right now. We’ll have to locate the correct ship, and we’ll need backup. It won’t be easy to search a ship of that size.”
I don’t like it, but what he said makes sense.
If they use local law enforcement, Ash will hear that his ship’s been intercepted. There are dirty cops on the King’s Crossing’s police force who work for the Blacks and not the city, but there’s nothing Ash will be able to do about it. It will be the FBI’s job to link the ship to Ash and possibly Clayton, and no amount of pig squealing will keep that from happening.
I sink into a chair at the conference table and over the furious clicking of Max’s laptop keys, relay Banks’ and my conversation to Mel.
She taps her fingers against her own laptop. “I hacked into the shipyard’s website. There are a handful of ships waiting to embark, but only one scheduled for today. I don’t know if it’s Ash’s. Of course, his name is nowhere near it.” She pauses. “I’m sorry about Nathalie. Do you think Ash really killed her?”
“Douglas says he saw it, and I don’t doubt him. Maybe you should use the courtesy phone at the front desk and call nine-one-one and tell them you witnessed a murder. It’s not the first that’s happened in the shipyard. I should never have asked her to help me.” I rub my hand over my face.
Mel scowls. “She was playing both sides, Zane. You’ll never convince me she and Ash didn’t have tonight planned all along. I don’t want to say she got what she deserved, but trusting Ash was her first mistake.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll always feel responsible for her death.”
“Don’t. Nathalie was intelligent and she had common sense. She chose to believe Ash and his lies. God knows what he promised her in exchange if she gave him Stella and Quinn.”
My throat closes, and I fight to breathe. I promised to keep her safe and give her a happy life full of love and the security she craved, and I’ve given her nothing.
“She won’t blame you,” she says. “She wanted to help.”
“Stella won’t want anything to do with me after this is over.” I voice my worse fear, and instead of comforting me, Mel agrees.
“You’re probably right. This has been really hard on her, and to move on, she might have to let you go. Not because of anything you’ve done or because she doesn’t love you, but you’ll be part of a past she’ll want to forget.”
“I know.” Christ, do I know.
I wake Denton, sure he doesn’t want to be left out of the loop, especially since this concerns Stella, and we sit in silence for hours waiting to hear any kind of news. Finally, my phone chimes, and a field agent from the FBI’s office in King’s Crossing asks for me.
“This is Maddox. What do you know?”
The agent spoke to the shipyard’s manager of operations, and the sheriff’s boat and water safety division located the ship on the Great Lakes Waterway ten nautical miles from King’s Crossing. I breathe a sigh of relief—they didn’t get far. The agent’s waiting on inspection documentation to come through that will allow them to board the ship. Thanks to Douglas’ statement, there’s more than enough probable cause and they don’t need it, but the paperwork will ensure solid evidence and a smoother trial.
I don’t argue. They’re doing everything as quickly as they can, and I don’t want Clayton or Ash to walk because of a technicality.
Maybe Stella and Quinn know the authorities located the ship. Maybe they know help is already on the way.
“They’ve identified the ship,” I tell Mel, Douglas, Max, and Denton. “They’re waiting on the papers to board, and the FBI will handle it from there.”
“Good,” Max says. “Then all we have to do is wait.”
It’s the longest twenty-four hours of my life.