I sipped my coffee again, silently disagreeing with her. Maybe he worked as a stripper in her sister’s club and didn’t want his whole class to know about it. Maybe he didn't get off work until three in the morning but couldn't say that without betraying what his job was.
Maybe. Maybe... he was blowing her off because he was already involved with someone else. Maybe.
But instead, I just shrugged. "Guess he is like other boys after all. Besides, didn't you say he had a girlfriend?"
Maybe I should just tell Seph that Lucas was stripping in one of my clubs. Surely that would be a good enough reason why she shouldn’t be pursuing him?
Seph pouted. "I figured maybe she's still in Colorado or something. He only moved here like three weeks ago. But whatever. We're seeing that remake of the old witchcraft movie from the sixties or something."
I rolled my eyes. The movie she was thinking of came out in '96, but I couldn't be bothered to argue with her.
"Well, enjoy," I said, taking another sip of my coffee and standing up.
She cocked her head to the side as she looked up at me. "Your hair and makeup are on point, Dare. Got a hot date tonight?"
I gave a small laugh. "I wish. Just need to stop by Anarchy to check on things."
Her smile turned knowing, and she nodded. "Oh, I see. Gonna see Zed there too? You should wear that crimson satin lace-up skirt with the black corset top. He's always checking out your ass and tits when you wear that combo."
Ignoring her, I drained the rest of my coffee on the way back to the kitchen, then headed to my room to get dressed. It was nothing more than a coincidence that when I emerged from my room again, I was wearing the outfit Seph had suggested. I mean, sure, she hadn’t specified that I add a black leather shoulder holster for my gun, but that went without saying. No way in hell was I wandering around unarmed right now.
She let out a catcall when she saw me, and I flipped her off. Little shit.
My skirt—which laced up in a corset pattern from knee to waist—was way too tight to even consider riding Bob, so I slid into my Corvette instead. I still had several hours before I was due to meet Zed at Anarchy, so I drove across to Rainybanks to catch up on some office work. One of the end of night reports had hinted at inventory discrepancies—a polite way of implying someone was stealing—and I wanted to review the last few weeks’ figures.
There was a magazine stand near the front entrance to the skyscraper Copper Wolf HQ was located in, and I grabbed a newspaper before heading inside. It never hurt to run my eyes over what was making headlines, just in case my people were being noticed. But I also had a slightly morbid fascination with reading the obituaries.
Saturday newspapers always had the most, and they were so varied. In some of them, love for the deceased person rang true with every word, while others were cringeworthy in how little care was put into the composition. I liked to think it spoke to what kind of person had just died. Were their surviving relatives grieving their loss or dancing on their grave? It always made me curious what would be written about me.
The Copper Wolf offices were mostly empty. Just a couple of desks were occupied by the women who ran our reservations and events team, and they gave me friendly smiles as I passed.
I let myself into my office, flicked on the lights, then sat down in my overly masculine leather chair. Crossing my legs, I flipped open the newspaper and scanned over the headlines quickly. I didn't need to read the articles about a giant fish being caught off the coast by a ten-year-old or a head-on collision that killed six. I just needed to make sure nothing was raising red flags about the continued existence of the Tri-state Timberwolves.
Anonymity to the general public was working for us, and I was dreading the day that changed. To be fair, though, I was amazed it hadn't already.
Finding nothing alarming in the news, I flicked over to the obits.
They were in alphabetical order, and I was pleasantly surprised at the sincerity of the first few I read. Then I reached the Ds.
Darling, I miss you more with every passing day. Five years has gone in the blink of an eye, but we'll meet again soon. I promise. I'll chase you.
I read the simple obituary six times before throwing the newspaper across my office.
"Motherfucker!" I shouted. Rage and fear coursed through me in equal measure, making my hands shake as I pulled my phone out of my purse. It took me three attempts to open my camera app, then I needed to go and retrieve the scattered newspaper to take a picture of the obituary and text it to Zed.
Fuck reviewing inventory; some bastard was trying to make me think Chase himself was still alive. Little did they know I had been the one who’d personally fired a bullet through his face.
Zed called me as I was stalking back to the elevators.
"You're shitting me," he said when I answered.
My fingers tightened on my phone, and I needed to resist the urge to throw it. I was so angry, though.
"I'm at Copper Wolf," I snapped, my voice threaded with fury. "I'll be at Anarchy in an hour."
"Understood, boss," Zed replied, all business. "I'll be waiting."
I ended the call and dropped my phone back into my purse before I could break it. Paranoid didn't even begin to describe how I was feeling as I exited the building and made my way back to my car. It felt like a million eyes were on me, watching my every step. A million people just waiting for me to slip up.
I wouldn't, though. I wouldn't fall. Because the second I did, someone would be there to slit my throat and toss me to the sharks. After all, it's what I would do.
24
Anarchy was buzzing with life when I arrived, despite how early in the evening it was. I bypassed the big top—the fight arena—and headed straight for the Fun Zone where I knew I'd find Zed waiting.
We had a VIP lounge area set aside in all our venues, and most nights they were kept for either visiting celebrities or just stinking rich party girls who could afford to rent it out. Tonight, though, it was totally empty except for my second-in-charge.
"Boss," he greeted me, indicating I take a seat at our favorite table. It was one that overlooked the main club, same as we liked to sit at all our venues. He sat opposite me, hooking his arm along the back of the seat and giving me an intense stare. "It's not him."
Him. Chase fucking Lockhart. As if he hadn't tried enough to break me in life, he was still messing with my mind five years after his death.
"Of course it's not him," I snarled. "I shot him in the face with a .44 caliber bullet from four feet away. Chase is currently worm food six feet under. But that message was personal. Whoever this is, they want me to think Chase is alive."
Zed nodded, his gaze still glued to my face. "There's so much personal information being used. First the Darling design, then knowing you read the obits for fun? Who the fuck else knows you do that?"
I grimaced. "No one. Just you." I let out a bitter laugh. "I don't suppose you're behind this, are you?"
His brows dipped in a deep frown. "You—"
"I'm joking," I assured him with a wave of my hand. "You and Seph are literally the only people on this whole fucking planet above suspicion." I arched a rueful smile at him. "But I wouldn’t entirely put it past Seph to think something like this was funny. So you're the only person I trust, Zed."