Lark and I weren’t at the same home long. Only a couple of months really, but it was enough to have me hooked. By the time that they moved me, I was in love with her.
She was fourteen, two years younger than me, and had only recently been orphaned. Her eyes always looked a little sad and it was rare to see her smile, although I did manage on a few occasions.
She was one of those classic beauties with a heart shaped face, pale skin, and a straight nose with just a smattering of freckles across the bridge. When I was deployed overseas, I used to dream about those freckles and wonder if she still had them or if they had disappeared as she got older.
I’ve never been able to push Lark completely out of my head and I even entertained the thought of finding her but if it turned out she had died in foster care or had married someone else, well I’m not sure if I could handle that.
I had tried to teach Lark everything I knew about surviving on the streets when we were together. I had taught her how to pick pockets, lie convincingly, and some sleight of hand tricks. She had been a fast learner and was as good as I was by the time we were separated.
“You want Morris’s address?” Laurent asks, tugging me out of my memories.
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat and pushing away thoughts of the girl who stole my heart.
3
Tracking down Morris is harder than Laurent. He has an address but it’s an abandoned storefront. Makes sense that a fence wouldn’t stay in one spot for long. It would be too easy for the feds or police to come by and catch them.
I head back to my Charger, sliding behind the wheel and grabbing my phone. I bring up Otto Finch’s number, hitting dial as I look around the deserted street once more.
“Ryder,” Finch says as soon as the call connects.
“I need an address,” I tell him and I hear the steady stream of fingers on keys in the background.
Finch is a hacker, a damn good one, and the closest thing I have to backup or a partner here. I can do basic computer shit but Finch is way better. He can track down anyone. Hack their phones, banking information, even hack into security cameras around the city to track movements and I know that I’ll need him if I want to find Morris.
“Whatcha got?” He asks me after a second and I rattle off everything I know about Morris, including his previous address and that he might be fencing diamonds.
“I’m outside his previous address now but it’s empty. The whole street is.”
“Give me a second. I’ll call you back.”
He hangs up before I can say anything else and I roll my eyes as I toss my phone into the cupholder. I start my car and head toward the closest fast food restaurant, ordering a hamburger and fries and eating it in the parking lot as I wait for Finch.
I don’t have to wait long.
“What did you find?” I ask as soon as my phone rings.
“Don’t know where he’s living now but I know where he meets his clients nowadays. TOH Nightclub. He takes meetings in the VIP room. Good luck getting in,” Finch says with a chuckle.
“You doubt me, Finch?” I ask with a smirk as I head back toward my place. I’ll need to change before I hit the nightclub to try to find Morris and whoever stole my client’s diamonds.
“Never,” Finch assures me and I laugh.
“I got a name of who he’s meeting,” he says and I perk up. Having an idea of who I should be looking for is always a good thing.
“Yeah, who?”
“Name is Rhys. That’s it. I’m not even sure if it’s a first or last name. Hope that helps though, bro.”
“Thanks, Finch. Talk to you later,” I say as I speed toward my place.
The sun is just setting as I head inside to change out of my suit and into something a little more casual. Black dress pants and a black button up shirt is casual enough for me to blend in with the other club goers but dark enough for me to disappear into the shadows.
TOH is on the other side of the city and with the late-night traffic, it takes me a good forty minutes to get there. I pull in just after nine and pray that the thief hasn’t already met with Morris.
I breeze past the bodyguards and into the dark nightclub. It’s two stories but an open area. A balcony on the second floor overlooks the dancefloor and I’d bet that’s the VIP section that I need to get into. The place is packed and music blares as strobe lights pass around the room.
I hate it. I hate everything about it.
I push my way toward the bar, sticking closer to the edge of the room as I scan the perimeter and check for exits. There’s no real good place to keep an eye on VIP from down here but I have a feeling that getting up into the second floor is going to take some convincing.
I order a whiskey at the bar, leaning against the bar by the wall as I scan the crowd. No one looks out of place but it’s still early. I do my best to look up to the second floor but if Morris is already up there then he’s sitting far enough back that I can’t see him from the first floor.
I spend an hour in that corner, nursing my whiskey and scanning the area. I watch the guards at the base of the stairs, noting any weaknesses in security. A few girls head down from the second floor but I don’t see any men head up or down.
The dance floor fills with more people as it gets later and I’m just about to make my move towards the VIP area when some woman bumps into me.
She almost spills her drink all over me but I manage to right it before that can happen. I notice her pale arm, her tight black mini dress, and a pair of stilettos that have to add at least four inches to her height.
“Whoa, sorry about that!” She says with a drunk giggle.
“Not a problem,” I tell her as movement from the second floor catches my eye.
It’s Morris. I sidestep the girl without another look as I keep my eyes locked on Morris and make my way closer. It looks like he’s looking for someone and I stop near the base of the stairs, waiting to see if anyone heads up to the second floor or if he makes eye contact with anyone. I wonder if Rhys got spooked or if he already came and left.
When the bouncer turns his back to hit on some girl who has been flirting with him on and off for the last hour, I make my move and head past him and up the stairs.
I spot Morris right away and I head over in his direction. I blend in until the last second and slip into the seat next to him. He stiffens when he turns and sees me next to him and I grin wolfishly at him.
4
“Morris. It’s nice to meet you,” I say, leaning in closer so he can hear me over the music and crowd.
Morris is a shifty looking thin man with thinning black hair and beady black eyes. He’s sitting in the middle of a curved couch, wearing a black, custom tailored suit with shiny shoes. His smile looks untrustworthy and I wonder how he got to be such a good fence when he so obviously looks and acts like a criminal.
“Who the hell are you?” He asks as I move closer to him.
“I’ll be asking the questions.”
He glares at me, starting to shift away and that’s when I pull my Sig 226 out from the waistband of my pants and shove it into his side.
“As I was saying, I need to ask you a few questions.”
He gives a tense nod, his body ramrod straight as I press the gun more firmly against him.