Chapter 19 #2
“Let me help. They say there is security here, that they have cameras, but they don’t. It’s a lie.”
It is quite literally the only useful thing I’ve discovered during my exploration.
“Why the fuck should we let you help us?” he asks.
“The fucks who run this place deserve everything they get. Have you seen what they do to the girls in the club?”
I’m about to start explaining the human trafficking thing when the tall one sighs and they all seem to relent.
“Fine. You can help as long as you don’t mind getting tangled up in whatever this is.”
“Oh, but I do. I love a good tangle. Especially with the right kind of people.”
I wait for them to tell me who the fuck they are or who the dead guy is, but all I get is a stony silence. The Russian one has been getting thornier by the second, and now he looks like he’s ready to explode with impatience. I feel the same way, to be honest, I’m just much better at hiding it.
I hope Colm is getting the information he needs. This is the first time we’ve been apart for more than a few minutes in what? A week? It feels fucking weird.
The redheaded beefcake holds out his hand to me. Clearly, he’s the nice one, but no thank you.
“Hey, thanks for being so cool about this. I’m Kit. Nice to meet you.”
I shake my head.
“No, thank you. I don’t shake hands, but nice to meet you all the same. Now what are you doing here? Besides hiding bodies.”
They look at each other while the tall one struggles to shove the body into some sort of closet.
“We are looking for a man who was taken just minutes ago. Have you seen anything suspicious?”
The Russian one’s voice is deep and growly, and I’m still a little distracted by how utterly uninterested I am in getting him to fuck me.
“Oh, all sorts,” I say. “This place is disgusting. And I have very low standards so that’s saying something. But funnily enough, I too am looking for someone who is missing. How fortuitous that we meet in this place doing the same thing.”
“Who are you looking for?” Kit asks.
They all look at me expectantly. It’s now or never, I guess. I won’t find out if they know anything unless I tell them the truth. I can always kill them later if it’s necessary.
“My sister. She used to work here and now she’s missing,” I say.
“Does your sister have a name?” Kit asks, tension thickening between the group for some reason.
“Yes, Ellery. She’s a bit of a shit, loudmouth, obnoxious, manipulative…”
“Ellery?” Kit asks, looking almost childlike in his enthusiasm. “They’re literally back at the—.”
Bingo. Jackpot.
“Don’t,” one of them says, pushing him in warning. I’m going to think of him as the pretty one, because the shoe fits. Even though he’s glowering at me. “We don’t know if he’s telling the truth. We could put them in danger.”
Jesus, these fellas are going to fucking kill me with all this beating around the bush.
“Fuck off. I’m no danger to her. She’s my sister,” I say.
“It’s they/them,” Kit says, and I feel my irritation rising.
I don’t fucking care for being called out about how I talk about my sister. They don’t know her. They don’t know me. She’s mine.
It’s possible that there’s a little guilt fueling the hair-trigger I have on this.
Ellery always used to want to talk about this stuff.
It was something we shared, even if we had different takes on it, but I just had no interest in the theory or the self-exploration.
I am what I am. I don’t care what people call me.
Ellery must have cared more than I thought, if my unwillingness to engage or be consistent about the pronoun thing pissed them off enough to leave. Or at least not take me with them when they left.
Still, I don’t appreciate these guys calling me out like they’re so fucking special and ethical, when we’re all murderers and arsewipe human beings anyway.
“For you maybe. But I shared a womb with her, so I get to call her whatever I want. Plus, she always calls me worse, I promise. And I still tore half the country apart so I could rescue her. So, where the fuck have you hidden her?”
They all stay fucking silent. My patience is getting thin.
“How about one of us calls and verify your story. And if they want to see you, then. maybe we can tell you where they are.” The pretty one glares at me, as if this is all some elaborate scheme to get my fucking sister’s phone number.
“Do you fucking believe this? This is fucking ridiculous. But fine. I’ll bite. Call her, tell her Fallow has been looking for her.”
I guess it is a scheme, kind of. But at least I’m not fucking lying.
“After we find Bane. We’ve wasted enough time.”
The Russian one is getting growly. It makes me curious who Bane is, even if I’m focused on finding Ellery. Again, with the intrigue…
“How long have you been looking for Ellery?” Kit asks.
“Too fucking long. I tracked her here from Missouri, and the East Coast before that. And the trail led me here, to all this.” I gesture around us.
“Like I said, there’s a strip club right in the back.
Lots of shady business done in those locked, soundproof rooms. If they were to take your man, he might be there.
No one would see or hear him if he screamed. ”
And if we go there, I can check on Colm. If one gangster has been taken today, it doesn’t rule out mine getting hurt, and that’s not something I’m prepared to accept.
“Fuck,” Kit says, before the tall one stops the angry Russian one from moving.
“We need a plan,” he says. “We don’t even know if we can trust him.”
Rude.
“Like the plan you had when you strangled the bartender and stuffed him in a closet. Right now, I trust no one but myself. Call Ellery, verify who this guy is so we can find Bane,” Russian man says, all thorns.
He pushes past all of us in the ensuing silence, until he gets to the door I just came through.
“Where is this club?”
Yes. Let’s go. Let’s go find Colm. And whoever poor kidnapped Bane is.
“I was just there. Follow me.”
We move through the hallways, with Kit and the other lackeys making some phone calls to confirm that I’m not lying about my sister. When it’s confirmed, my fucking heart sings.
They’re not turning me away. If Ellery didn’t want to see me, they could just lie and probably get these guys to at least try to beat me to death.
“Fuck, why is the lighting so shit back here?” Kit asks.
“All the better to hide the shady stuff with.” I’m so high on finally—fucking finally—getting somewhere that I’m positively giggling. “Did you know that aardvarks have a long, sticky tongue that can reach about twelve inches long. Do you know what someone could do with a tongue like that?”
“What the fuck does this have to do with finding Bane?” the Russian says, practically sulking.
“It doesn’t. Just thought you’d like to know.”
The guards at the entrance to the strip club recognize me from before as an associate of Kaitlyn’s and let us all back in without a fuss.
“See,” I point out. “No one had to die to get in. A win-win.”
I’d love a good murder, if I’m being honest, but I absolutely do not have the time for it right now.
“Where are the rooms?” Kit asks, raising his voice over the thumping music.
It draws more attention to us than he should, but I’m not focused on him anymore. I can’t see Colm or the girl. Which means they could still be in a room. Or they could have gotten in trouble and be in a very different kind of room.
“Follow me,” I tell them, heading to the other side where Colm would have gone.
One of the sex workers starts flirting with the tall one, and I barely suppress the urge to start corralling these guys with my knife. We have shit to do.
Clearly, the Russian and I are on the same page, because he knocks the woman over and strides towards the room like he’s got the devil chasing him.
As soon as he steps up to one of the guards, he stabs him in the neck with a syringe. Oh fuck. We’re really in it, now. I start knocking on various doors and listening, trying to identify Colm’s voice, but these rooms really are soundproof.
“Break them all down,” the Russian says, turning to look at all of us. I’m included in this exercise now, apparently. Works for me. “Find him.”
We start kicking down doors without hesitation. More guards get dropped, and every single person we find gets interrogated, with or without their pants on.
No Colm. No hint of the woman. And clearly, as evidenced by how close the sexy Russian is to frothing at the mouth, no Bane.
The very last door is all of our last hopes, but there isn’t a single person inside. There is a lot of blood, and what appears to be a little device of some kind. Like the tracker the Aryans put on our car, but far more fucking posh.
When the Russian starts swearing, I can only assume it means Bane is gone. Shit. I thought I was getting somewhere, but now I only have more people to find.