Chapter 4 Georgie
GEORGIE
Icrouched on the roof and lifted the binoculars. Zooming in, I focused on the front door of Red Neon.
Bright neon lights blinked above the club door, along with a set of singing lips that was the club’s logo.
My hands shook, my throat was so tight that I could barely swallow. There was a long line of clubgoers hungry to get in despite the cold wind. So many young women, dressed in their short, sparkly best, huddled inside their coats. Dressed up the same as Viv liked to do.
Ignoring the crowd, I swiveled and focused in on the two bouncers in black. I’d seen them around. The blond was Sam Alden, and the darker one was Mark Zanotti. They were part of Snyder’s posse.
I’d also seen them in videos, using my sister.
My hands clenched on the binoculars. I kept a notebook. I printed out pictures of everyone and took notes on all of them.
Then the door of the club opened and a man stepped out.
My stomach dropped, a hot wave of rage washing over me.
He was about six feet tall and bulky. The one word to describe him was wide. He had a square jaw, pronounced brow, and a shaved head.
His name was Frank Bruno.
He was Snyder’s right-hand man.
He was also the man who’d taken great delight in beating me up and putting me in the hospital. He’d almost broken my arm, bruised my ribs, and given me a black eye.
Bruno was a man I’d seen violently fucking my sister from behind while she cried and screamed. Nausea filled my throat and I almost vomited, but I fought for control.
I watched as he spoke to the other two bouncers, all of them laughing together. Bruno clapped Alden on the shoulder, his attention shifting to eye two barely legal women in short skirts at the front of the line. He lifted a meaty hand and waved for them to enter the club.
I couldn’t hear from my vantage point, but I saw the young women squeal and follow Bruno inside.
Dragging in some deep breaths, I wrangled my emotions under control. I had to get inside. I wanted to see Snyder without him seeing me. I needed to know everything about his routine, the layout of his club, things he did on repeat.
Then I could find the best spot and time to take him down.
But seeing Bruno… I wanted to take him down, too.
He deserved it. They all deserved it.
I lifted my cellphone, thumbed the screen, and played a saved voice message from Viv. I’d replayed it so many times I knew the words by memory.
“Hey, Georgie.” Her voice was a little shaky, but she wasn’t high. I knew what that sounded like all too well. “I just….” A gusty sigh. “I just wanted to tell you that I love you. You’re the best big sister a girl could have. The Linden Sisters against the world. See you soon.”
I closed my eyes and played it again.
I’d never see her again.
I’d never see her smile, hear her sing, get one of her giant, enthusiastic hugs.
Snyder had trapped her, treated her like shit, abused his power.
He’d stolen something beautiful. My sister with the big laugh, the beautiful voice, and so much love in her heart, was dead.
Because of him.
I sucked in some deep breaths, the pain washing through me.
Methodically, I put the binoculars back into my backpack.
Swinging it onto my shoulder, I headed across the roof of the building across the street from Red Neon.
I headed down the fire escape. My car was parked on a side street and when I reached it, I stuck the backpack in the trunk.
I checked my face in the reflection of the side mirror.
My blonde hair was tucked away under a black bob wig.
I pulled out my lipstick and retouched my red lips.
I’d gone heavy and dramatic with the makeup for two reasons.
One, to look different, and two, to cover up the fading bruises around my eye.
After I’d retouched my lips, I checked the dark contacts. I looked nothing like myself.
I straightened, smoothing a hand down my wide-legged black pants. I’d paired them with a tight red halter top that showed off plenty of cleavage. I’d lost weight recently but not off my breasts. I was also wearing a pair of killer red heels.
Shrugging out of my jacket, I tossed it into the trunk and ignored the cold that hit my bare arms.
Let’s do this.
I headed for Red Neon.
If they recognize you, you’ll be dead.
I lifted my chin. They wouldn’t recognize me.
I bypassed the line, putting some swing into my hips and strode up to the bouncers. They turned my way, and I shot them a sultry smile, oozing confidence.
“Evening, gentlemen.” I worked hard to block out all thoughts of what these men had done to my sister.
The bigger of the two, Alden, smiled, and jerked his head toward the door.
I blew him a kiss.
“Hey, we were next,” someone in the line yelled.
I sauntered into the club and heard one of the bouncers say, “Damn, I want those red lips around my cock.”
In your dreams, asshole.
It was dark inside the club, the music pumping and vibrating through my body. The walls were padded with black-and-red fabric, with touches of gold. As I stepped into the main room, lights strobed over the heaving mass of dancers grinding on the dance floor.
There were several circular bars dotted around the space and the bartenders were busy, keeping up with the thirsty crowd.
At the back of the club, the VIP areas were cordoned off with red ropes.
There were more bouncers patrolling there.
More men who’d hurt my sister. The VIP clubgoers sat on semi-circular, red-velvet couches, catered to by scantily dressed waitresses.
The scraps of red and black silk barely rated being considered clothing.
I walked to the bar closest to the VIP area. I ordered a cocktail that I wouldn’t drink and snagged a stool.
Sitting, I crossed my legs and pretended to sip. I made sure I didn’t look like I was studying the VIP area. There was no sign of Snyder.
But he was here. Somewhere.
My gaze drifted to the door marked private. I knew it led to his office.
About now, he always came out. He had his own VIP couch, a little higher than the others. He usually invited women to join him for free drinks.
The music cut off and a voice came over the loudspeaker. “Hello! I hope you’re all having a wild time tonight.” The man had a smooth, deep voice made for radio.
The crowd screamed and cheered.
“You are very lucky. We have a special performance tonight. Only the best for Red Neonites.”
More cheers.
“Say a huge welcome to our new feature singer, Shandy!”
I swiveled on the stool, ice filling my veins. I spotted Dean Snyder first, by the edge of the stage. He wore a white suit that glowed under the lights and a black tie. I hated that he was handsome—with styled, brown hair, a gym-fit body, and a perpetual half smirk on his lips.
He led a woman onto the stage, giving her a huge smile. Then he adjusted the microphone for her.
My heart shriveled. For a second, I thought it was Viv.
I blinked. The woman was taller and thinner than my sister, but had a similar mane of blonde hair.
“Evening, y’all.” Shandy gave the crowd a shy smile. “I’m thrilled to be here and sing for you. It’s a dream come true for me.” She shot Snyder a pretty smile, then turned back to the crowd. “I’m gonna sing a favorite for you. I hope you enjoy.”
The music started and I discovered Shandy had an excellent voice.
I listened to her singing a song about hopes and dreams. Her voice was a little deeper and smokier than Viv’s, but it brought back so many memories.
Viv putting on performances at home from the time she could talk, using a hairbrush as her microphone.
She’d sung at her high school graduation, and often did the national anthem at football games.
She sang in the shower, she hummed as she read, she just lived and breathed music.
I miss you, Viv.
The music swelled, like it was responding to my grief, and Shandy hit her last note. As it faded away, the audience broke out in applause.
On stage, Shandy smiled. It was a little shy, but happy.
Then Snyder ascended the steps to the stage and held out a hand to her.
She took it with a wide smile.
I tried not to launch myself off the stool and attack him, but it was hard. My hand clenched on my glass. This was the man who’d systematically broken my sister.
Who’d killed her.
I watched Snyder lead Shandy to the VIP area. He was all charm, leaning in and touching her hair. No doubt complementing her performance, making promises he would never keep.
God, he was doing it again.
Dread flowed through me. Blindly, I lifted my drink and took a long gulp. He’d replaced Viv, less than two weeks after murdering her, and now he was seducing this poor woman.
Soon, she’d be broken, raped, drug addicted.
Lost in my thoughts, I felt my cellphone vibrate, and it jolted me out of my despair. My gut cramped but I realized it couldn’t be from Snyder. He was on the couch, canoodling with Shandy.
Blindly, I pulled my phone out and saw a message from an unknown number.
Your guy doesn’t want to be found, and he keeps his shit tight, girly.
Oh God, it was from the hacker I’d paid a small fortune to find Nash. I’d given up on him weeks ago.
Got a single partial facial recognition. Might be him, might not be.
My chest squeezed. He’d found Nash. Maybe.
If I take more of your money, I’d be stealing from you.
Wow, I’d managed to find an upfront, honest hacker. I typed.
Where?
Avernus casino. Las Vegas.
My heart stopped. Nash was here? In Las Vegas?
Maybe. It might not be him. I tried to get control of my racing pulse. But surely this was some sort of sign.
I studied the image on the screen. It showed a man in jeans and a ball cap.
The cap was navy blue, with no team logo or other markings on it.
In the picture, he stood partly in profile, and it wasn’t a clear view of his face.
I zoomed in. He also had a beard. Nash didn’t have a beard when I’d known him.
Was it Nash?