Page 42 of Hard Ruck

Storm grunted. He muttered something that sounded like ‘asshole,’ but it didn’t seem to be directed at me.

I had an idea of how to bring the two together, but that would have to wait until after this. I made a note to speak to Chelsea about it. Although, I had no doubt she’d agree. The better we all got along with each other, the better it was for her. We’d all do anything for her, so why not stop hating on Atlas?

Chelsea pulled the car up in front of a nondescript building on the edge of Dusk Bay. The façade was dark, almost oppressive, like a modern Gothic building.

“What is this place?” Dallas asked.

“You’ll see,” Chelsea said. She shot us all a dazzling smile before climbing out of the car and heading towards the front door of the building.

I exchanged confused looks with Storm, but hurried to follow her.

We caught up with her as a man in a dark suit opened the door and looked appraisingly at all four of us. His gaze lingered on Chelsea, but the air of danger around him suggested it was better to let it go. This time.

This wasn’t someone I could strangle and leave for someone else to deal with. I suspected if I tried anything, I’d be the one lying dead. I couldn’t see a weapon, but I was almost certain he had one.

“Welcome, Miss Miller,” he finally said. He stood aside and nodded for us to enter.

I hesitated, but Chelsea lifted her chin and stepped inside like she owned the place. If she thought it was safe to enter, I guessed it was. Hoped it was.

We walked down a short corridor and into an opulent room that made my jaw drop.

The walls and leather furniture were black, as were the sleek tables that took up much of the space. Gold light fittings hung from the ceiling, dripping with crystals. Even the floors, a dark hardwood, looked expensive.

Those weren’t even the most expensive looking things in the room. Several men and women sat around the tables. Their clothes alone would have fed a small country for a year. In track pants and a Smashers hoodie, I felt underdressed.

“I think we just stepped into the nineteen twenties,” Storm said.

“Chelsea!” A dark-haired woman a handful of years older than her hopped up from a chair and hurried over to give Chelsea a hug. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Daze!” Chelsea hugged her back. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Where else would I be on a Tuesday?” Daze asked. “Mina is here too. Come and sit with us.” She glanced appraisingly at us.

“Guys, this is Daisy LaSalle,” Chelsea introduced. “Daze, this is Storm Keller, Dallas Gregory and Daniel Frost.”

“My friends call me Frost.” I offered Daze my hand.

She eyed it for a moment before she shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Frost. And you too,” she said to the other guys. She hooked her arm through Chelsea’s and led her over to a table. “What brings all of you here today?”

A dainty, dark-haired woman sat at a table in the corner, a dark-haired man beside her. He had a similar air to Ice, and the man at the door. A smile hovered around the corners of his lips, but he looked like he could pull out a knife and slash open a throat without blinking.

“Gianni.” He leaned over the table to shake my hand. “This is Mina.”

Mina nodded, but kept her hands in her lap. She gave me the impression she was watching everything and absorbing it for future reference. If I was going to be intimidated by anyone in this room, it would be her.

Ironic, given she was at least half my size. I’d lived long enough to know not to underestimate a woman. And in this place? Even more so.

“Storm and Frost have recently been introduced to the real Dusk Bay,” Chelsea was saying as she slid into a chair beside Daze. “I thought this would be a good way to show Dallas.”

Dallas sat on the other side of Chelsea and looked confused. His eyes kept darting from her, to me, to the other people around the table and back to her. “Rich people in some kind of secret club?”

“It’s an exclusive club,” Gianni said. “This is where people come to make deals. And they make a fabulous martini.” He nodded towards the drink on the table in front of him.

“What kind of deals?” Storm asked.

“All kinds,” Gianni said. “Some of them are even legal.”

“We didn’t just step back into the nineteen twenties,” I said. “We stepped into a speakeasy, like in the mafia movies.”

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