Chapter 11
Tyler
The warehouse hadn’t changed. Brick, neon, no noisy crowd in a line outside as it wasn’t yet dark. Still, men came and went from the strip club, the route through to the brothel ever popular.
Despite all the familiarity, something scraped wrong under my skin.
It was me who was different. No longer in easy harmony with the skeleton crew. I’d made myself other. Here to retrieve the possessions of the woman I stole.
I’d officially become my own worst op.
In the central corridor, I entered the management office. Empty, unsurprising for mid-afternoon, but neither were there any bags lying around, despite Kane telling me that’s where he’d taken them.
My hope for sloppiness was unrealistic.
“Ty.”
I jumped at the voice then schooled my features.
From the doorway, Cassie scrutinised me. “What are ye up to, and why does it feel sneaky?”
“What?”
“You’ve got that face on. The one ye use when you’re about to make work for everyone else.”
I breathed out. “No face intended. I’m not here for long. Just checking in.”
“Ye missed Kane and Lovelyn. Kane’s convinced Dixie doubled back again. Not even the tiniest of signs she reached the capital. Have ye heard anything else?”
Ash and Heretic had come up with a competent plan, dividing up a list of places to search. Both were pragmatic. Keen to show me their worth. I didn’t like setting my team up for failure, but I’d design a permanent smoke screen if it protected my woman.
“Nothing solid yet. They brought Dixie’s things?”
Cassie watched me. “I put them somewhere safe. Didn’t want them sitting around for any nosy parker to rummage through.”
“Good. Where?”
Her scrutiny continued. Sharpened. “Why?”
Because I needed them. I’d promised, and I’d already crossed too many lines to stop now.
Manny entered the room and gave me a chin lift of greeting. “Got a minute?”
“Sure.”
Cassie switched her gaze between us then left the office.
Manny closed the door. “Your new guys. The brothers. I’m paying them cash only, which is no problem short-term.”
“Surely not longer term either?”
The warehouse was awash with physical cash. Men often paid for sex with banknotes rather than leaving a tell-tale line on their card statements.
The head of security made a face. “Yes and no. Longer term, it makes me nervous. If neither has a decent fake ID or bank account, it suggests they won’t be around for long.”
My mind was already off elsewhere, mentally searching the warehouse for where Cassie might have stashed Dixie’s bags.
Manny waited.
I palmed his shoulder. “I trust them.”
“How much do you know about them?”
Cassie had taken over as Dixie’s boss. She’d consider it her task to guard her friend’s possessions. Certainty built in me. I had to take a trip to the seventh floor. Cassie and Riordan’s apartment.
Without bidding, my mind went to the last time I was up there, and all the boxes I’d smuggled in to the apartment on the other side of the hall.
Items that I’d had no business in taking, at least from anyone else’s point of view.
They had to stay hidden for a while longer, or any trust I had would be dead in the water.
“Leave it with me,” I said to Manny, though I couldn’t share his concern or dedicate any thought to it now.
He let me go. Down the hall, Arran walked with Genevieve. If he saw me, there would be yet another interruption.
Out of sight, I slipped into the brick-lined stairwell and climbed.
Pressure built in me the higher I went. I had free rein of the warehouse, my access allowing entry to any area bar private ones, but I was skulking around like a thief.
Near the top of the steps, I paused and considered my options. There was no quick way to get a key from Cassie or Riordan, and I couldn’t walk through a locked door.
The fire escape. That was it. Cassie had a bad habit of taking walks on the roof. What were the odds that she’d left the gate unlocked to her and Riordan’s fire door?
I continued up to the eighth and through the access door in the stairwell, emerging on the roof.
Cold wind blasted me, and the city spread out beyond the steaming vents and the low brick wall that was the only thing between me and a sheer drop.
For a beat, I stared at the winding river.
The bank where Karla’s body had been left.
Then followed it to the harbour, where Esther had been dumped.
Twisting around gave me a view downriver to the cliffs.
Beyond that was the boathouse where Dixie had been left for dead.
That was why I was doing this. All my actions wore her name as justification.
My mind caught up, and I cursed myself for lingering.
Had to be quick. It was still daylight, and I couldn’t be spotted.
I crossed to the gate on the east side and swallowed a laugh of success. Open, exactly as expected. I entered the narrow cage and descended the damp metal steps down the side of the building.
At the bottom, I crouched on the grate and leaned to peer into the nearest window. There were no signs of movement within the slice of room, but that guaranteed nothing. Cassie could’ve come back upstairs. Riordan might still be in bed. The crew worked nocturnal hours.
There was only one thing for it. Twisting the handle, I swung into the apartment and shut out the day. Then I held still, stooped at the end of the hallway, out of sight of the living room.
A voice came. Riordan’s. “…you’ve got it. Though with you two following Arran and Genevieve down the aisle, you’ll be giving Cassie ideas.”
My heart pounded.
Was he on the phone? I couldn’t hear a second voice.
Cassie and Riordan’s apartment was a good size, with huge arched windows and an open-plan living room and kitchen. Coffee scented the air, along with a light perfume and something metallic, as if Cassie had been sharpening her knives.
I’d broken in at the end of the bedroom corridor. If Riordan was leaving, I’d have the place to myself. If he was sitting down to breakfast, I had to break right out again and wait.
A click came. The front door opening?
Slipping my phone from my pocket, I activated the camera and used it to peek around the corner.
Shade filled my screen.
I snatched the phone back, but the tattooed enforcer followed, his eyes wide as he took me in. I jammed my finger to my lips.
“What the fuck?” he mouthed, sheathing a blade.
I shook my head urgently.
Shade leaned back and called, “Riot?”
“Please,” I breathed. “Don’t tell him.”
If he saw me, this was over. Cassie would know. Everyone. They’d demand answers.
“What is it?” Riordan called back.
Shade gave me another once-over, utter bemusement across his dark features. At whatever he chose to see in my expression, he opened his mouth. “Uh, is it okay if I hang here for a second to take a call?”
“Sure? See you downstairs.” Riordan sounded confused, but the door slammed with his exit.
I slumped.
Shade snapped his gaze back to me. “If this is some kind of perversion over my sister, I’m killing ye first and asking questions later.”
Over…? He and Cassie had discovered they shared a father a few months back. I knew for Shade, that meant a lot. “Don’t talk shite.”
“Then what?”
I had nothing. No good lie saved up. As good as I could be with strategising, I could also generally think on my feet. But today, I was a wreck.
“I need to take something Cassie stashed in here. It isn’t hers to keep.”
Shade angled his head, still in disbelief. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess it isn’t yours either?”
“No. I’ll take the flak when she finds out, but I need ye to trust me. I’m doing this for good reasons.”
He stared at me for several seconds, calculation in his gaze. Then his eyes widened. Fuck. At Buck’s place, he’d caught on to something, too.
“Stop. Don’t work it out,” I ordered.
Shade’s jaw dropped. “Holy fucking shite. Ye don’t half pick your catastrophes.”
Frustration chased away my anxiety at being caught.
I shoved him. “I said not to. Don’t say it.”
He walked down the hall, his tattooed hands on his head. Then he whirled around, his shock morphing into incredulity. “That is fucked up.”
I couldn’t deny it. I shrugged.
“Your own men are…” He cursed the ceiling, the tattoo across his throat bobbing. “Don’t make it my problem.”
“Then don’t stand in my way.”
He dropped his head back and took a deep breath. “Is she okay?”
“Do ye even have to ask that?”
“Two days. That’s what I’ll give ye. And I won’t lie to my wife.”
It was my turn for disbelief. “Did I miss a wedding, or are ye just stacking surprises on mine?”
Shade shook his head. “Answer my calls and this wouldn’t be news.
Everly and I are getting hitched in a month.
Nice church, just our closest friends. Which was to include ye.
I was talking to Riot about it because we’ve opted for this low-key…
” He swore. “Why the fuck am I telling ye this? I’m leaving. ”
He stormed away.
“You’re a good friend,” I said after him.
I earned the middle finger he returned, his Saltire ink on the back of his hand underlining how much I’d pissed him off.
“Shut the fuck up. Two days, brother. And her bags are in the spare bedroom wardrobe.”
He left.
I sank against the wall for just a second to gather my soul back into my body. In getting caught, I’d fucked up. I’d hoped for longer. Dixie needed space as well as support.
My search of the spare bedroom came up good with the two holdalls at the back of an easily unlocked cupboard. A peek inside gave me pretty clothes and hair products. My chest constricted. I’d done it.
But it had come at a cost.
Sneaking out, I took the bags down the fire escape to drop to a little-used exit ramp. I then left the way I’d entered. Visible and barely talking. I collected the bags as the heavens opened, evening folding in, then left the city.
The lashing rain darkened my mood.
My adrenaline stayed high on the drive, and my hands shook with the fallout of my actions. If I had any chance of Dixie understanding me, and in turn my crew, I had to take a trip into my history. Voice facts I’d barely processed in two decades.
I didn’t even know where to start, only that Dixie deserved the truth, not another version I’d polished to survive.