Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

I t takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the strip club. The music playing isn’t a fast tune; God forbid the girls actually have to dance. Their naked bodies sway on the stage. How many of them realize they’re stripping? That there’s a leering audience below them?

When I scan the bar, I’m grateful Malik is working. At least something is going my way today. Now, I have to figure out how to get him alone. He’s at the end of the bar, serving the lone customer. The rest of the people in the place are camped out in perverts’ row.

I’m so focused on Malik I don’t notice when the bouncer approaches me. “You here for an interview?”

I give him a wry smile. “Not quite.”

He frowns. “I don’t get it.”

“Finn Donaghey sent me.”

“Does Mr. Zhang know you’re coming?”

“No idea. Finn said to come here, so I came. You know how it is.”

The bouncer gives a curt nod. “Enjoy a drink on the house. I’ll track down Mr. Zhang.”

This time, my smile is genuine. “Perfect.”

Cutting through the tables and chairs, I take a seat at the bar at the opposite end to Malik’s other customer. He strolls over to me and stares for a moment, neither of us able to say what we want. “Drink?”

“Whiskey.”

“How are you today?”

“Full of questions.”

“I’m sure Mr. Zhang will have lots of answers for you.”

“Possibly.” I lean back in my chair and throw one elbow over the top.

Malik passes the whiskey across. “You need the bathroom?” He raises his voice. “Behind you.”

We’ve worked together so many times in so many situations this is normal and strange in the same breath.

“Thank you.” I head for the toilet.

Once I’m inside, I check for cameras. Malik wouldn’t have chosen this route if he knew surveillance was in here. Going into the only stall, I jam toilet paper into the toilet until I’m sure it’ll clog. Who makes a woman’s bathroom with a single stall? I suppose women aren’t their clientele of choice. A minute later, I wander back to the bar. The bouncer is waiting.

With a small smile to him, I focus on Malik. “I’m sorry. I have to go to the bathroom, and it seems like the toilet is clogged.”

“Oh, sure.” Malik angles his head at the bouncer. “Cover for me?”

The big man laughs. “Yeah, I’m not so keen on unclogging a toilet. Stupid dancers keep putting too many tampons down it.”

The dancers use that bathroom? God, this place is awful.

Malik comes out from behind the bar and trails behind me to the washroom with a plunger. I flip on the tap to mask our voices. He bends over the toilet, plunger in one hand, and I keep watch by the door, ready to bar it or make it inconvenient for anyone entering.

“Go.” His voice is pitched low.

“Did you know Chad fought for the O’Malleys? His picture is on their wall.” I match the volume of his voice, conscious of the door behind me. The bouncer didn’t seem suspicious. In this business, it isn’t possible to be too careful, too prepared.

There’s a beat before Malik says, “You think they killed him?”

“Derry says they didn’t. I believe him.”

“Jesus, Kimi. You asked him?”

“It’s not as bad as it seems. It came up in casual conversation.”

“With Derry-fucking-O’Malley. You’ve heard the stories about him.”

“Finn and Lorcan warned him to keep his hands off me.”

Malik drops the plunger and comes to cup my face. “He catches a whiff of inauthenticity off you and you’re dead or worse. You need to be careful around him.”

I jerk my chin out of his hands. “I know the score, Malik. Don’t patronize me.”

“I worry about you.”

“Yeah, well, with Dai Qing at my back, I worry about me. How the hell did you end up here?”

“I got an introduction. Zhangs are up-and-coming in child-and-sex trafficking. We had an in. I was tired of being on the sidelines. We jumped on it.”

I press my fingers to my forehead. “I’m here to make a deal with these people for Finn.”

Malik doesn’t say anything. I’d probably punch him if he reminded me of my job.

I pick up the plunger and force it down into the toilet bowl over and over. “Sometimes I hate this job.”

“Few organizations work in isolation anymore. Money is money.”

“Who’s your handler?”

“Dai Qing.” Malik runs his hand down the steel of the stall. “She asked me to encourage you to see your mom.”

I laugh. “She did, did she? Are you sleeping with her? My family problems become your pillow talk?”

“Kim.” His dark eyes are pleading. “We gotta go back out there. I don’t want to leave it like this.”

“Who else could have killed Chad if it wasn’t Derry?”

Malik looks away from me, annoyance tinging his face. “Russians, maybe? The fight club brings in a lot of revenue. You’d need to know who owed who money, who thought eliminating Chad was the way to serve a blow to the O’Malleys. I’m assuming he was winning?”

“I got the impression you were winning or you were dead.”

“This isn’t part of the job. Checking into what happened to Chad isn’t your job.”

“No one else has done it.”

“Don’t compromise this mission for something that can’t be changed.”

I lift my chin, defiance spewing out of me. “Yeah, I get it. Chad’s dead either way. But he deserves to be avenged.” My voice is pitched low, and I point my finger. “I’m finally in a position to do that.”

“Kim.” There’s a warning in his voice.

In a surge of annoyance, I yank open the bathroom door and school my features. The bouncer is off to the side, ready to take me to Zhang’s office.

“Murray is such a good worker.” I force myself to use a chipper tone and point a thumb over my shoulder. “He should get a raise.” I swipe my drink off the bar before following the bouncer into the bowels of the club.

My escort chuckles. “Maybe he’ll get promoted out of unclogging toilets at some point. Not my decision.”

“Fair enough.” I gulp the whiskey. If Zhang has the paperwork, I want out of here as fast as I can. The fingers of my free hand slip inside my jacket and graze my gun.

When I reach the doorway of the office, Shen is behind his desk. It’s dark and dingy in here, and I understand why Finn might not have wanted to deal with them. Nothing about this place screams moneymaker.

When he looks at me, the sour expression on his face is a sharp contrast to his charming persona the other day when Finn was here. “Where’s Finn?”

“He didn’t come.” I’m at the edge of his desk, but I don’t sit down. This won’t take long. “Do you have the offer?”

“He sent you alone?”

I give him an impatient stare. “No. I have guards. Do you have it or not?”

From his desk drawer, he withdraws an envelope. Without a word, he passes it. I flip it over, seeing the wax seal across the enclosure. “Very trusting.”

“No one sees that but Finn.” Shen makes a shooing motion with his hand.

“I’m Finn’s proxy.” I wedge my finger under the seal. “He won’t mind.”

“I mind.” Color rises to Shen’s cheeks. “I mind he sent you. That he mocked my first offer. That he’s wasting my time.”

“Must be terrible, having to bend over and take it.”

His face fills with outrage. “Finn will put you in the ground for screwing up this deal.”

“Doubtful.” He might bury me in the ground, but the reason won’t be this deal.

“Someone needs to put you in your place.”

I laugh. “I know my place, Mr. Zhang. It’s well above yours.” I walk backward to the doorway and then knock on the doorframe. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Someday it will be. You’re not making friends today.”

“Your value as a friend is questionable. Let’s see if you’re any good as an enemy.” My heart picks up its tempo in my chest.

Before I left the house earlier, Finn asked me to piss off Shen. So much for respecting Chinese culture. His motives are a mystery. I hope Finn’s plan isn’t going to get me killed.

Shen sputters as I leave. When I stroll through the open bar area, I avoid looking at Malik. My heart is racing from what I said to Shen but also from my conversation with Malik.

It’s not until I’m sliding into the SUV my heart starts to return to normal. Someday I fear my heart will beat right out of my chest.

“Got it?” Antonio starts the vehicle.

I wag the envelope, the seal flapping open. “You bet.”

Once we’re driving, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “You broke the seal.”

“I did.” I meet his gaze. “Finn’s orders.” That’s not quite true, but it’s close enough. Opening the contract let me piss off Shen and makes it easier for me to take pictures before giving the contract to Finn. This evidence helps Malik as much as me.

Antonio’s jaw tightens a fraction.

“Say it.”

“Finn’s pissing everybody off lately. He’s gonna get me killed.”

My lips quirk up into a partial smile. “You’re only worried about your own ass?”

“Yeah. Who else would I worry about?” His hands flex against the steering wheel.

“Embrace the fear. It’s never going to go away. You might as well enjoy the adrenaline rush.” Boston zooms by out the window, one mile at a time.

“Adrenaline rush.” Antonio gives me a disgusted look. “You’ve already been in their house too long.”

“You don’t like it, leave.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t get it. You don’t leave. There are only two ways out—death or jail—Lorcan and Finn are serious about that.”

“Which are you hoping for?”

“Neither. I got kids.”

“Immaculate conception?”

“And an ex-wife,” he says with an annoyed expression. “I don’t care about her.”

We’re not at the point where I can ask him if he’d ever roll on Finn or Lorcan. This information certainly puts him in my crosshairs. I have to be sure I can trust him to take a plea deal if he gets hauled in by us. Otherwise, I’m putting a giant target on my forehead instead of his.

“Kids, huh?”

“There isn’t nothing a good father won’t do for his kids.”

That was true of my own father. His hiking accident ripped another hole in my mother, left a gaping absence in me as well. That hole rotted and festered in each of us in different ways. I’m here, doing this. My mother? She’s gone. Checked out. Both of us are searching for paths to reunite our family. Her way is less violent.

“Well, I hope you get your wish, Antonio. You never know. Sometimes life goes in an unexpected direction.”

The roar of a motorbike penetrates the interior of the car. I glance over only to be met with a loud pop as a bullet hits the window. Like a web, the glass cracks on impact. Antonio swerves. Two other shots ping off the car. I reach for my gun, ducking low in my seat.

“Jesus Christ,” I say. “Are the windows bulletproof?”

“Far as I know.”

“How many shots till it fails?”

“No idea. We’ve never been shot at before.” He jerks to the side, and our car picks up speed.

The motorcycle roars beside us, a driver and the shooter. With what they’re riding, they’ll be able to outrun us all day, every day. Speeding away from them isn’t an option. He tries to swerve into them, but the driver of the bike is skilled and outmaneuvers him with ease.

There are two ways this ends. I can let them empty whatever ammunition they have into the car. Or I can roll down my window and fire back. There’s a good chance Antonio will be killed if I do the second option.

Another bullet hits my window, and the web spreads wider. Some glass is five rounds, others three, and some even less. Doing nothing is as much of a risk as doing something.

My hand hovers above the button for the automatic window.