Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Chelsea
I didn't know who paid the security guard to let me in without question, but she did. She smiled and nodded, waving me past. Not without an edge of urgency. She was paid to let me through, not to lose her job.
I made a mental note to check back later and make sure she didn't. If she did, I'd find her one somewhere else. One that paid so well she didn't need to take bribes.
Either way, I stepped past her and in through the side entrance.
A few people noticed me. Some stopped to stare, to ogle, but no one tried to stop me.
At some point in my life, I'd perfected the art of pretending I belonged. I did it so well, people believed I did more often than not.
I employed that now. I also wore my official lanyard and identification around my neck. For all they knew, I'd been rehired.
One of the good things about Dusk Bay was that people didn't ask too many questions. Not about things like this. In particular, they didn't ask me. Good, because today I wouldn't have given them any answers. I was here for only one reason, and it wasn't for a social call.
Heart in my throat, I headed to the bank of elevators and took the first one heading down to the pool area.
The guys were scattered around the building, ready if I needed anything. I took their word for it that what happened to Jones had been completely suppressed. If it hadn't, I was walking into a trap.
I reminded myself the guys and my brother were listening via the microphone hidden in my bra. If anything even looked like going south, they'd be right there.
If they could get to me in time. This whole operation was risky, but like my brother said, I had no choice.
The Brantley family wouldn't let me walk away now.
Honestly, I would let myself walk away. I needed to see this all the way through to the end.
In an hour or two, this would be over, one way or the other.
The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. I shoved away the thought that maybe I was walking to my execution, and stepped out, chin raised.
As planned, I pushed through the doors into the pool area as Skinner was finishing a session with one of the players.
Not one of mine, so he barely gave me a glance before he hurried off to shower.
The glance he did give me came with a smirk.
I've course he'd read the headline or someone told him.
Whatever, I wasn't letting that small detail get to me.
In the scheme of things, it was barely a blip on the radar.
Skinner, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at me.
"You shouldn't be here." He was always so kind and welcoming.
Not. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it.
What did that mean? Did he know Jones was dead, or was he not privy to the cartel leader's plans?
I guessed it was the latter. He was a lackey.
Jones owed him no explanations. The same way Reuben Brantley owed me none.
"Hello, it's nice to see you too," I said with venomous sweetness.
He grunted, irritated at being called out, however subtly. "Did you want something, Miss Miller?"
" Doctor Miller," I corrected. The next person who called me miss, in a derisive way, was going to feel my heel on their balls.
He clearly did it to get a response from me. The fact he had amused him. I saw that in his eyes and the faint, smug smile on his mouth.
Fucker.
"I'd question the accuracy of that, but whatever you want to believe." He shrugged. "I asked you a question. Did you want something?"
"You could say that," I said. "I'm curious what you have to gain in working for Carlos Jones."
His flinch was subtle, but it was there. He really hadn't known about Jones' plans, because he wasn't a good enough actor to hide his surprise.
"I have no idea who that is,” he said trying to regain his composure. “I work for the Smashers. If that's all you've come to say, you can leave or I'll have security remove you."
"You're a crappy liar," I told him. To be honest, it felt good to be so blunt with the man. I'd walked on eggshells around him for long enough. It was time for him to bear the brunt of my real thoughts about him. Fuck with me and I'll fuck back.
"We both know you know who Jones is. But in case you need a reminder, he's the head of the Crimson Vipers.
They're a cartel with connections to organised crime.
Tight connections. They traffic drugs, guns, money.
People. Carlos Jones thought it was a good idea to try to take on those he worked for.
He got too big for his boots. Sound familiar?
" I cocked my head at him and waited for an answer. Watched while he squirmed.
"What if it does?" Skinner asked. He stood beside the pool with a clipboard in his hand, held as though he might try to use it as a weapon. "I know exactly who you are, and what your connections are. You're involved as deep as he is."
"Firstly, no I'm not," I said evenly. "Secondly, I never was." Not yet anyway. My involvement was a drop in the ocean compared to Jones. "Thirdly, was ."
Skinner frowned. "Was what?" He clearly had no idea what I was referring to.
Good, they kept it suppressed as I'd hoped.
As if I was becoming bored with the conversation, I looked down at my nails. I really did need to make an appointment to have them done. Maybe change the colour. A nice pink next time.
"Carlos Jones was involved in a variety of things, as you know," I said. "He's now dead." I glanced up to watch that sink in. "He was killed yesterday morning."
Skinner frowned. "Bullshit. I was contacted by him an hour ago."
"Him, or the head of the Crimson Vipers?" I asked. "Because they're under new management right now. I understand they're undergoing quite the overhaul. What did they want you to do?"
"They—" he started before catching himself.
"How do I know anything you're telling me is true?
You could be in here stirring up trouble because you're bitter about being fired.
Did you think people wouldn't find out you were a whore?
It looks to me like you were putting out for the wrong people.
I'm sure Dominic would have kept you on if you offered to suck him off. "
He looked very pleased with himself for figuring out what he assumed was the actual reason for my visit. He was so far out I almost laughed in his face.
I snorted. "Are you about to suggest I offer you a blowjob in return for putting in a good word for me, so I can get my job back?" I made sure to inject as much sarcasm into my words as possible. I didn't want him to think I was actually offering.
"I wouldn't put it past someone like you," he said derisively.
"What do you mean ‘someone like me?’" I asked. "A woman? Of course that's what you mean. Men like you always assume there's only one way for a woman to get ahead in life. With her body. You can't fathom the idea that I was at the top of my class by using my brains."
He rolled his eyes, clearly believing exactly what I accused him of. No wonder he and Jones got along.
"Tell me something, what did Jones offer you?" I asked. "Access to as many women as you could want? With or without their consent?"
He twitched. "Don't be ridiculous. That would be… illegal."
I barked a laugh. "Now you care about things being legal. You didn't flinch when Max Stanley was murdered. Or Bruce Fergus. I'm sure you won't lose any sleep over Carlos Jones either." I took a couple of steps closer. "What did he offer you?"
He backed up a step. "Power. Money." After a moment, and with some reluctance, he added, "Women."
I nodded slowly as though absorbing all of this. As if I didn't already understand everything.
"Where did those women come from?" I asked.
"I don't know." He wouldn't meet my gaze now. "He held parties. I put in my order and he delivered. Petite, blonde. Long hair. Always long hair."
"I'm relieved to know I'm not your type," I said dryly.
My stomach turned at the very idea that he could put in a request for a particular type of woman, as though he was ordering a pizza with all the right toppings.
And Jones would send his people out to find them if they didn't already have them in stock.
I wasn't na?ve enough to think it didn't happen, especially with powerful men around the world, but hearing about it directly? That was another thing entirely.
"I prefer a woman who knows her place," he said, now looking at me like he was repulsed in some way.
I won't lie, the feeling was completely mutual. Correction, repulsive wasn't a strong enough word to describe him and the people he associated with. Evil might fit better.
"Did King take part in these parties? Who else was there? If you give me some names, I'll make sure my connections go easy on you. After all, you've proven to be resourceful. You might be useful to the people I work with."
He saw the bait and took it like a lifeline. "King was very much present. He has a preference for women who look like you. Dark hair and an attitude. He liked to remind them he was in charge."
I fucking bet he did. If he wasn't already on my shit list, he was now. There was a world of difference between being dominant in the bedroom, and in a relationship, and being dominant without consent. I didn't need Skinner to paint me a picture. The one in my mind was bad enough.
"Who else was present?" I might as well try to catch as many fish as I could.
"Carlos Jones," Skinner said. He rattled off a bunch of other names, most of which I recognised from around Dusk Bay and around the country. Several politicians, a couple of businessmen, some high profile actors. Some I was surprised by, others not.
I nodded when he finished the list and leaned forward to speak into my microphone, to make it clear everything we said was overheard.
"Did you get all of that?" I asked.
"Every word," my brother said in the earphone in my ear.
Skinner stared at me for a moment in horror. "You fucking bitch!" He threw the clipboard aside and lunged at me, sending us both flying into the pool.