Page 33 of Bishop's Flight
“We don’t want to bring trouble to your door, Oleg. Does Mika know where this girl is? It’s imperative that we ask her some questions.”
Oleg took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. The corner of his mouth turned up in a rueful grimace. “Would that you had come to me with this question last week, my friend.”
Brigid’s heart sank. “What happened?”
“Two days ago, Mika discovered that Alina had been drugging one of the guards here at the compound to obtain information about our organization. We supposed it was for Zasha, of course. It was not the first time the girl had made unwise decisions for money.” He shrugged. “She’d been warned before, and she ignored it. Alina Oorzhak is dead.”
Eleven
Carwyn sat in the car in the parking lot of the Pink Daiquiri Gentleman’s Club in Henderson, Nevada, only minutes from the Las Vegas Strip and light-years from the small parish he’d watched over for centuries.
Miguel was watching his obvious discomfort. “Not a fan of the strip clubs, eh?”
“I was a Catholic priest for about ten centuries.”
The human guard blinked. “Oh yeah, I can see how that wouldn’t be something you… Yeah.”
“I’m not a prude.” Carwyn stared at the flashing neon lights as men strode into the club, laughing and joking with their friends. “The human body is a beautiful thing, and I believe practicing modesty is more to do with living a humble life than covering up skin.”
Miguel opened his door. “Hey. These girls gotta make a living, you know?”
“I don’t judge them.” Carwyn joined Miguel exiting the car, his eyes still watching the men entering the club. “I do judgethem.”
Miguel laughed. “I mean, it’s just a little T and A, Father.”
“Exactly. And to most of the men entering this place, that’s all these women are. Tits and ass.” Carwyn followed Miguel through the double doors. “I believe all human beings are far more than their physical selves, but you are entitled to believe as you will.”
They paid the cover in cash and walked into the club, then Carwyn waited for Miguel to speak to the bouncer watching the bar. The man nodded and pointed to a stool where a middle-aged woman with short blond hair was watching the stage and talking on the phone.
“That’s Cheryl. She’s the owner,” Miguel said. “Bouncer said we need to talk to her first.”
“Does she know Agnes and Rose?”
“Everyone knows the Del Marco.” Miguel turned. “I have a private investigator’s license too. That helps.”
There were two women dancing on the stage, both topless and wearing G-strings as they performed. Carwyn glanced at them but watched the crowd more.
Was the high roller the bartender had mentioned to Brigid in the room? Was Savannah a favorite?
Any number of the men could fit the description of the guy Alina had been trying to lure.
Miguel reached the bar and greeted Cheryl. “Miss Scarsdale?”
The woman turned to Miguel and Carwyn. “Just call me Cheryl, honey. You need something?”
“My name is Miguel Cerritos, and this is my associate Carwyn.”
Carwyn nodded. “Madam.”
Her eyebrows went up. “You’re a cute one. Where you from?”
“I’m originally from North Wales, but I currently live in California.”
“Cutie.” She seemed pleased to make their acquaintance. “I love your accent.”
“And I like yours.” Carwyn turned on the charm. “You’re the owner of the bar, yes?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “You like it?”
