Chapter 28 #2
Her gaze switched to the middle distance, and I watched her perform the same mental gymnastics that I had. With the vote tied and Darcy missing, the trusted companies were set up to break such a deadlock. And one was somehow under the influence of the Marchant family. That was no accident.
She shook her head. “Plot twist. Can you look at the others?”
I wanted to. My energy would usually have been all over that. Sadness had taken its place, and even the moment when delight should’ve come from sharing hard-won intel, it fell flat.
My lack of an answer was concealed by a commotion coming from the steps, a shout of Mila’s name piercing a lull in the thumping music. Both of us glanced over to where a man was held back by the bouncer. Mila narrowed her eyes.
“Do you know him?” I asked.
“I do. His name’s Presley, and he’s the son of the worst family I was telling you about. Convict calls him Mini Marchant-Smythe. Wait, his parents are Phylis and Philip.”
I goggled at her, and she laughed.
“All the P names. He’s just like them. He was the one sending anonymous hate mail about my grandfather. We didn’t see him today, but I’m not surprised that he’s here.”
“Are you going to talk to him?”
“I want him suffering. Do you know he called the cops on Convict? That’s how your dad had him in Leith.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry if that’s weird.”
I waved her off, and she took up her phone to type out a message. “He’s our age, so nowhere near old enough to be part of the conspiracy, and he’s hardly going to give up any wrongdoing his parents took part in. He’s of no use to me, but I know someone else who wants a word.”
Presley yelled and ranted at the unmoving bouncer. As we watched, another figure climbed the VIP stairs behind him. A willowy brunette with long nails I remember curling around Kane’s arm. My heart sank to the floor.
“Oh my God,” I muttered.
Finished with her text, Mila took in the newcomer then my expression. “We don’t like that lady?”
I swallowed bile. “She’s a previous…acquaintance of your brother’s. We encountered her on the hunt for Dixie. He didn’t want to talk to her, but she was persistent.”
Mila’s eyes rounded in outrage. She knew I’d spent the night in Kane’s bedroom but hadn’t asked any questions, for which I was grateful. “Did she follow him here?”
“I think she must have.” Without conscious intent, I found myself on my feet and crossing the VIP suite.
In Warford, in his own way, Kane had asked me to protect him from her. This time, I’d do it of my own accord.
For my sake, I couldn’t have mustered the energy. For him, it was right there.
Another bouncer had joined the first who was still arguing with Presley. I tapped the nearest on the shoulder. He made way so I could see Karla.
She smiled prettily at him, then her gaze landed on me and soured.
“What are you doing here, Karla?” I said over the music.
“None of your business, but I’ve come for an interview. I’m early so I’m taking a look around.”
An interview could mean the bars, the strip club, or the brothel. All of them close to Kane. I winced but held my ground. “If you’re after Kane, he doesn’t want you near him. I don’t know how much clearer he can make that.”
“He can tell me for himself. Is he here?”
“Not for a stalker, he isn’t.”
She centred on me with outrage. I wasn’t done.
“If you don’t back off, next time, it’ll be a restraining order.”
Karla’s lip curled in a snarl, all the lightness fleeing her expression.
“Bitch, don’t act like you know him. He’s not what you think he is.
If he’s playing nice with you, it’s only because he’s slumming it for a while.
Do you seriously think he’s going to be interested for long?
Please. Not in a club like this with women like me on demand whenever he wants it.
I’m going to invite him to join me in the interview process.
Did you know he likes it rough? Ask me how I know. ”
Hurt stole my breath at the thought of him touching her. Enjoying the things he wanted to do that I’d found far more challenging.
“Whether he wants me or not isn’t the point. I’m not fighting with you over him. I’m repeating what he told you. Leave him alone.”
An arm slid around me, Mila at my side and her fierce gaze on Karla. “If ever my brother was slumming it, it was with your sorry ass. He wised up and moved on to far better things. Get out of this club.”
The man still fighting with the other bouncer further back on the steps whipped around at her voice. “Mila?”
She gave him a flat stare. “Piss off, Presley.”
He strained against the bouncer’s outstretched arm. “You call yourself family, well, leave my parents the fuck alone. You have no idea what they’ve had to handle. All the shit they put up with. Back off or—”
Convict flew up the steps, taking them two at a time. So that was who Mila had been messaging.
He grasped Mini Marchant-Smythe by his collar and twisted it to choke him. “Or what? I dare you to finish that sentence.”
The man whipped around on him, dislodging his grip. “Get the fuck off. Don’t test me unless you want to find out.”
Convict’s expression shifted into delight. “Enlighten me. I can’t wait. I owe you for calling the cops on me.”
Presley swung for him. In a heartbeat, Convict had his arms locked behind his back and was shoving him down the stairs. Presley hit the treads and tumbled. Convict chased him down.
Karla watched them go then pointed at Mila. Diamonds on her red-painted manicure sparkled in the light. “He’s Kane’s relative, if you’re his sister?”
Mila didn’t answer, but Karla arched an eyebrow then came back to me. She beckoned me in closer, speaking for me alone.
Her words were poison. “I would never stoop so low to compete over a man. They’re the ones who do the running, literally, in Kane’s case, but there’s a natural order to things you don’t seem to understand.
Didn’t your mama ever teach you to make way for prettier girls?
Like me, like Dixie who didn’t want to see you. Get back down the queue, honey.”
She trotted down the steps, following Presley out of the club as Convict evicted him.
Molly sprinted up. “I’m sorry! I was serving a group. I missed everything. Damn it, I wanted to pay you back for helping me.”
Mila stared after Karla. “What is wrong with people?” She cupped my elbow. “What did she say? Don’t listen to a word.”
I wanted to reply that I wouldn’t. I wanted to hear Molly’s stories about her ex. But one of Karla’s words had hit home. Like an arrow, it had pierced my chest and I was bleeding. An invisible wound reopened that I’d never recovered from.
I couldn’t staunch the flow. It hurt. So badly.
Mila took my arm and turned me, saying something I couldn’t hear. Then she stopped dead and stared at a booth right behind us. “Wallace?”
The single man I’d noticed on his own raised a hand and waved lazily from a few feet behind us. “Mother heard from your brother. I came to talk to him, but from all that drama, I see he isn’t up for hookers. I mean visitors.”
Wallace was Mila and Kane’s uncle, and he was here. The information filtered slowly into my mind.
It was too late, though. I couldn’t stop the rushing pain inside me. The emotions I’d tried so hard to control boiled and overspilled, hitting me again and again.
I’d intended to be locked away somewhere at midnight when the anniversary began, out of sight of others and safe to crumple, but I was out of luck. It was starting early, and I had no choice but to go with it.
With a muttered apology, I was down the steps and fleeing the warehouse, my sanity held by a thread.