TWENTY-TWO
STAG IN THE DAYTIME wasn’t intimidating. So she thought until Tulip stopped to look up at it after they left the car. The building was huge, dark, hiding whatever was within, cloaking its secrets. And, boy, did it have secrets.
Daly stopped next to her to side whisper. “Sure this is a good idea?”
“It’s lunch. We’ll show Tulip there’s nothing sinister going on.”
“Biggs is here already, guys are on their way with food.” Good idea or not, he’d follow orders. “Problem though, you don’t eat lunch.”
“Tulip can eat. Just make sure there’s coffee or booze.”
“Never short of that, honey.”
The club wasn’t open for business, and Play was likely the one upstairs, alone or not. But they didn’t have to draw back the whole proverbial curtain. The mystery came from the mystique of the family and its late-night dealings. If she could uncloud that mist, in the right crevices, and let the woman think she was just a little on the inside, maybe she could foster allegiance.
Dingo opened the door for them, lighting was low, and voices carried from the cavern beyond.
With full confidence, she stormed a path straight into the club. Those voices quieted. The many now-silent men around the room awaited her direction. Hers. They waited for her permission to continue.
Biggs stood up first and rounded the bar to plant his hands on it. “Safe Harbor?”
“Alcohol?” Tulip asked. “It’s the middle of the day.”
More than just a couple of guys laughed. Conventional rules didn’t exist there. Tulip glanced around, maybe self-conscious. Yeah, it was funny, the guys meant no harm, but the point wasn’t to ridicule the reporter.
“Can we have the room, please, guys?”
Without objection, the guys, other than Biggs and her First Team, tramped out through the various doors.
“They just up and leave like that? It doesn’t piss them off you order them around?”
“I didn’t order them, I asked them. Respect begets respect.” In her book, not so much in Conn’s. “And I’ve worked out here before; welcome to my office.” Swinging herself into the VIP booth that jutted into the dance floor, she gestured at the next section. “Sit down, they’ll bring the food here.”
Biggs brought their drinks. “Milady.”
“Thank you. Stick around, we’ll probably want more.”
“As you wish, mistress,” Biggs said and winked.
Idiot, very funny. Playing to the myth could be fun too.
“What is the point of this?” Tulip asked. “Buttering me up? Trying to be my best friend? If you really wanted to show trust, you’d take me upstairs.”
Always looking for the angle. Tulip wasn’t scared to open her mouth. Good quality in an investigative reporter.
“This is not about trust,” she said. “These people, everyone you’ve seen or met connected with the McDades, they’re real people, not characters in any plot or melodrama.”
“And they work for you?”
“They work for the business,” she said. “McDades look after their own. I want you to see what’s good here. We’re not evil. Stag contributes to the neighborhood, provides jobs, fosters community. You never heard of Irish hospitality? We look after our employees, keep people safe.”
“People like Nicole? Is she here?”
She shook her head. “Why are you so interested in her?”
“No one can put the pieces together. There’s one story and another. A woman’s life is at stake.”
“And she’s a McDade, yet you suspect us? Why would we kill one of our own?”
“Her husband’s in prison, he hasn’t divorced her. There must still be feelings there. If it’s one of the other families, what would their motivation be?”
“Maybe that’s your clue, who has motive to want her dead?”
“It’s not possible to figure that out without all the information.”
“No one has all the information.”
“It’s sinister. Whisper and Raze show up, then disappear. Madison Byrne is in town. Word is Score McDade’s on his way too. We’re headed for a full-throttle showdown. Who’ll get caught in the crossfire?”
“You have some interesting sources.”
“You denying it?”
“No.”
“Is it all connected?”
“To some degree, everything is connected.”
“Sersha,” Tulip groaned. “Are you giving me the runaround? Why has Nicole got a price on her head?”
“Who named Conn as my grandfather’s killer?” Their eyes locked. “If I raise my voice—”
“Another threat?”
“I’ve given you plenty. I confirmed there’s a price on Nicole’s head. Told you she’s still breathing, and that the McDades did not put out the contract. What else do you want to know?”
“Why she deserves to die.”
“Given we weren’t the ones to call it, I can’t give you the right answer. I can make one up, maybe she’s on Santa’s Naughty List.”
Four guys came to put out salad and sandwiches before disappearing without a word.
“This is serious,” Tulip said, ignoring the spread. “I can’t believe you’d be glib about a woman’s life.”
“And I can’t believe you’d be glib in refusing to identify who wants to hurt my guy. His life is at stake in this too. If his life is at stake, so is mine, so is everyone on payroll. Why do you want to hurt the McDades?”
Startled again, Tulip mouthed nothing for a few seconds. “I don’t want to hurt the McDades.”
It wasn’t a threat, but the woman had to be aware of their location. Intention meant nothing when there were so many heavies in the vicinity. Truth mattered less than her desire. Like she’d said to the guys in the Chronicler elevator. Around the McDades? Her words were orders, not requests. And no one would question them. Power, this was her kingdom. Conn had given her a crown and had no problem with her using it for her own ends. Not that she would, but the potential was intoxicating.
Honestly? She could ask Biggs or Daly to end the conversation, end her colleague’s life, even just take her liberty, and Conn would handle everything else. A fawn in the forest, Tulip didn’t know oblivion hung perilously close.
Conn wouldn’t second-guess her. Would it be complicated disappearing a woman they knew little about? Yes. That wouldn’t deter her guy. He’d handle it, like he handled all her messes.
Planting both hands on the table, she rose just a little to loom near her colleague. “Someone wants to hurt the man I love,” she growled, possessive and unimpressed. “Someone whispered his name into the ear of an enemy,” if the cops could be called that, “meaning him harm. Someone vindictive. Conniving. Callous. With a motive that hasn’t been fulfilled. Anyone protecting that person means to hurt my guy too. Means the McDades harm. Me harm. And that’s not something I take lightly. Do you take the imprisonment of an innocent man lightly?”
“I didn’t know he was innocent.”
“He was with me,” she said, her head rolling a little. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“He’s your lover.”
“Yes, and the victim was my grandpapa. So I ask again, are you calling me a liar?”
Tulip shook her head. “I trust he was with you, he didn’t pull the trigger.”
“No, yet someone pointed the finger at him. Isn’t that a more interesting story than some nebulous contract? What motivated the witness to insult the head of our family?”
“Money,” Tulip said. “Revenge. Could be a power grab or protest.”
Sinking down, she settled, picking up her glass to swirl the liquid in it. “You want a quote?”
Clearly surprised, Tulip blinked. “A quote from… from you?”
“Or Conn,” she said, assessing the woman as she raised her glass to sip the liquor. “A local entrepreneur cruelly ripped from his place of business in the middle of the night. Interrogated by hostile cops. A man related to the victim, by association. Who did the false witness want to hurt? Conn? The McDades? Maybe the McLeods? Could the snitch be covering his own crime?”
A glimmer of fog lifted, revealing a new glitter in the young woman’s eyes. “I can write the story?”
She nodded. “Write it. Show it to me. We’ll give you a quote.”
“You… He’d really talk to me?”
“Providing your article highlights the correct wronged party.”
“Should you check because I won’t—”
“My word is as good as his.”
Tulip slid along the seat. “I heard something else about you, something about Ire.” With situation on top of situation swirling in her midst, that could point to any number of things. “Give me the inside track on—”
“I’ll give you a maybe until you spill something. How do I know you even have this witness’s name?”
“I have it.”
She sipped her liquor. “So tell me.”
“Do I have your word nothing will happen to him?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not all-powerful. Something could happen to any of us any second.” And what would happen to him was Conn’s decision, she wouldn’t dish out promises on his behalf. Oh, yeah, and there was a good chance she might slash the bastard herself. “The CI wasn’t your source. Give me his name. Who’s Wanstead got in his pocket?”
On a grumbled exhale, Tulip surrendered. “Sneddon.”
“The security guy?” Wow, and he’d thought he had PTSD before? He ain’t seen nothing yet. “Dick move.”
Determining who was pulling Wanstead’s strings was the next mystery.
“Sersha—”
Her phone ringing cut Tulip off. The screen said Imogen. She held up a forefinger to answer.
“Hey,” she said without giving away the caller’s identity. That it was Imogen increased the urgency, they’d got into some messes together in the past. Might be cueing up another. “You okay?”
“We can’t get hold of Dad or Ford. I was at his apartment; Dad didn’t go home last night. Tell me he’s with you. Please.”
“Not presently, but I know where he is and he’s safe.”
“Where? Please, Sersha!”
“Okay, okay.” It wasn’t like Imogen to freak without cause. “We’re at the club having lunch.”
“You and my dad?”
“Me and Tulip. You can come join us or we’ll meet back at the office.” Quiet lingered. “Hello?”
“Is Tulip… is she on the inside of… any of it?”
“No!” She snickered. “God, no.”
“So why would you—”
“Reasons.” She scooted along the seat. “I have to come back and talk to Steeple anyway. Meet us at the office.” Hanging up, she bounced out of the booth and got going. “I have to get back to work.”
Tulip followed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, will be.” Landing a smile on Daly, he just glared. “What’s up, friend?”
“You didn’t eat anything.”
Waving over her shoulder, she set the exit in her sights. “Yeah, I never eat lunch, didn’t you know that?” Good thing this guy was under orders to keep her alive. “Let the guys have at it.”