Chapter 38 Conrad
Conrad
We’re going to destroy a dirty cop, and then I’m going to make Phoenix wear my shirt while she fucks all four of us. Maybe all at once.
I don’t know, yet. But I do know it’ll be good.
The spa is cleared of the fake Botox, and Legal is taking charge of pressing charges against the manager, hanging every ounce of liability around her neck. The police aren’t going to pursue charges against the resort.
Storm’s leverage made sure Langford tucked tail and left without dragging us into headlines. Not bad for a morning’s work.
I lean back in my leather chair, roll my shoulders, and finally let myself breathe. It’s been so long since I’ve had one problem handled cleanly, I almost forgot what it feels like.
The lawyer’s still on the line, his voice cool and steady.
“The videos of Danner you sent, along with the call logs and the threatening texts from the cop, are enough to get his badge pulled. I’ll make sure it’s all handled quietly.
Suits will be filed against the manager and anyone else tied to the counterfeit meds. You’ll be clear of any liability.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Good. Keep pressure on the cops. I want it all tied off before lunch. Better if you can throw him in a cell.”
“We don’t have enough for charges, not without the video Mr. Vale refuses to give me. Your real consideration is that Danner could lead you to whoever is behind all of this, though. It might be worth a deal just to try to get to that information.”
The idea sits like sawdust in my throat. I don’t like Danner. I’d much rather see him rot than offer him any kind of consideration.
But I do want to know who’s been using Danner to send threatening messages to Phoenix, who’s been fucking with my hotel.
“Do what you can,” I say and hang up the line, staring at the muted reflection of myself in the polished wood.
Storm lays his knife on the desk in front of me like an answer to the unasked questions in the room. Atticus moves his laptop so that we can all see it, and I nod to Maverick.
“Run it.”
“Assuming Legal can’t get him tossed into a cell, we can expect him to flee.
” Atticus speaks in his no-nonsense tone while pointing at the map on his screen.
“The last ping on the burner phone he used was a mile from here, and then it was gone. If they don’t arrest him, he’s definitely headed for us. ”
So we build a trap, and we wait for our prey to make a mistake.
Atticus records a loop of the security cameras while we hang out in the blindspots. Maverick leans easy against the ice machine like he belongs to it. I stand in the center and let the corridor’s sanitized scent of lilies lie to me.
If he does as expected, Danner should come through this door.
He’s not in cuffs. He’s not on a plane. He’s not brave. Cornered men pick the back-of-house because it feels like a secret.
Storm’s knife doesn’t click. It rests along his forearm like it’s a part of his body. Mav checks the time on his phone and sighs.
“Two minutes of blind footage,” Atticus adds. “Then I bring the cameras back and we just pretend nothing happened.”
The latch on the door doesn't move.
Around us, the hotel hums with activity. Somewhere above us I can hear the faintly distinctive sound of a vacuum running lines into a carpet.
Our little band of merry men is almost enough to drive me to drink. I’m the one who insisted that Phoenix wait in the penthouse with Zeus to keep her company, so why do I feel like I betrayed her? She even swore she’d behave, but I couldn’t chance it.
“The cameras are dark,” Atticus says. The corridor dims a degree that only men like us notice. “If he’s coming, it’s now.”
Nothing.
Storm takes one step toward the door and then back. Maverick flicks his eyes at me, communicating a message I understand because we share a brain. Call it?
“We’ll be back up in three,” Atticus says. “Two. One…and we’re live.”
I hold the quiet for one more count. Then I nod once. “We’re done. Pull it.”
Storm pockets the blade without looking at it. Maverick pushes off the machine. We peel out of the hall and take the stairwell.
“Danner didn’t ping a tower near here,” Atticus reports as we hit the landing. “His burner hopped midtown and died. The harbor was a decoy. He never intended to walk into our trap.”
“Then someone used us as a decoy…a distraction. There’s no way he’d just walk away,” I say.
We come out into the penthouse hall. I don’t like the way the light looks on our door—there’s something faintly ominous about it, even though it’s the same light as it always is. Unsettled, I swipe the card, irritated when it takes three swipes for the light to blink green.
The suite opens on a kind of quiet that isn’t rest.
“Phoenix?” Maverick calls out lightly, almost playfully. I can’t blame him after the day we’ve had. But he’s going to have to share her with us today. I need Phoenix’s sweet heat for myself too.
No answer.
Storm goes first, eyes doing the sweep. He stops at the window. The blanket lies in its usual restless heap. No dog, though. No girl. Just a still-hot cup of coffee on the table
Atticus is already on his tablet, pulling up the video feeds to locate her. “Fucking Phoenix…she never listens…” he mutters. His expression goes tight. “Wait…”
“Thirteen minutes ago,” he says, flat. “Damn it…she took the fucking service elevator to the service bay corridor. Happened less than five minutes before the drop. She should be close.”
Maverick is in the kitchen, riffling a stack of white napkins like a magician who hates his craft. Under the third one: her phone. Face down.
He brings it to the island and we surround the small piece of metal and glass that’s our only real clue to figuring out what was going on with our girl.
We press the button and key in the code that we set, and messages pop up.
Unknown
Time’s up, Phoenix.
I tried to do this the nice way.
Remember that you asked for this.
Video Link Attached
I click the link and watch as a very alive and beaten Mr. Jones appears on the screen. His nose is bleeding, and it looks like he’s got a black eye forming.
“I’m so sorry Nixie,” he sobs. “I thought I would be able to win it all back. But then he made me sign the contract. I’m so sorry, my little girl. I had to give him you.”
The video cuts to black and it takes every single ounce of self restraint not to break the damn phone.
“What the fuck?” Maverick and Storm are both staring at the phone like it’s the devil incarnate.
“Did her father sell her to cover his debts?” My question isn’t really a question. We all heard it. We all saw it.
Unknown
Walk out of the hotel lobby.
No more games.
Coldness spreads icy fingers through me. Phoenix did this. She left the penthouse to meet with whoever sent her those messages. The same person that Danner works for, or Danner himself. Who the fuck knows? We don’t know fucking anything.
I rake my fingers into my hair and pull until pain spears at my skull.
Storm’s jaw flexes once. He looks everywhere a body could’ve brushed against something and left a story. There isn’t one. Phoenix walked out of here. She wasn’t forced.
“I have to find her.” My skin is starting to itch. The lack of control is driving me right to the edge of madness.
“Atticus, do you see anything on the cameras for the lobby.?”
While he’s muttering to himself, I walk to the glass window and stare down at the river.
I pushed her. I did this. Somehow, I know this is my fault. All of it. I pushed her down into my soul as deep as she would go, and when I got the chance to have her again, I tainted it with the poison running through my veins.
The awareness that she apparently left of her own volition sits sour on my tongue. Whether it was coerced or not—she made a choice. And yet I can’t help feeling some level of culpability in that choice.
I should have told her I wanted her to stay.
That I needed her to stay.
That we all need her to stay.
She doesn’t get to make the choice to leave us, damn it.
My arm sweeps out, knocking the phone and a pile of other shit on the counter to the floor. I turn from the kitchen to stare out the window. The suite breathes once and then waits for me to decide who we are.
“Say it.” Maverick is at the threshold, watching me with rage in his eyes.
“She’s gone,” I say the words, and my voice stays even because that’s what’s going to keep us from drowning.
“But whoever touched her is going to die. And I’ll drag our little princess back by her fucking hair if I have to.”
TO BE CONTINUED… in Wild Card