Page 69 of Flame
Chapter Seventeen
Gino chose the most uninspired venue to reopen his business—a warehouse just a few blocks down from the original site. We pass the hollow, burned-out shell on our way there. The brick façade is blackened with soot, any entrance cordoned off by a maze of yellow caution tape.
I can’t imagine the blaze that caused so much damage—especially considering the residential buildings nearby. Whoever was behind the arson didn’t give a damn for anyone who might get in the way.
But why?
“I wouldn’t be this sloppy,” Rafe remarks, gazing at the destruction in the rearview window as we leave it behind. His hand finds mine with a reassuring squeeze. “If you’ve changed your mind…”
“No,” I say, forcing down a nervous swallow. “I want answers. How did you even find out where the new club is, anyway?”
As if on cue, said building comes into view. Even if he hadn’t told me beforehand—judging from the steady stream of people entering and leaving this seemingly isolated place—I could take a guess at what kind of establishment it might contain.
“Ace turned out to be good for something,” Rafe says while parking a few blocks down from the club. “I had him track down what other property Gino owned. And guess what? The price wasn’t a sex tape.”
My cheeks flame at the reminder. “Lucky you.”
With sudden seriousness, he braces his hand over my bare knee. His touch is electric, and I grit my teeth at the sensation. I can feel the ridge of every finger, radiating heat.
“You don’t have to do this. I mean it, bunny. You may like playing with fire, but this isn’t a game.”
I have no doubt that he’s probably right. But in the grand scheme of everything that’s happened with Branden and Faith, I can’t ignore a chance to seek out answers. No matter how dangerous it may be to find them.
“It’s too late,” I say, shouldering my door open. As I step out onto the curb, unease worms its way into my stomach, countering my resolve. Technically, as far as nightclubs are concerned, this is only my third experience entering one.
Faint music emanates from the distant warehouse, audible even this far down. Overall, this is a relatively desolate part of the city, especially compared to Rafe’s Dragon’s Head venue's busy location. Winding alleys snake through tall brick buildings, most of them seemingly abandoned, making the crowd of people gathered on the next block far more conspicuous.
I’m so caught up in recalling the basics of our plan over and over that I almost forget the presence still beside me.
“I’ve got your back,” Rafe calls from the driver’s side of his car, picking up on my unease. “Just keep your phone on you at all fucking times. I’ll be listening. The second anything goes wrong, I’m coming in. Remind me again what the goal is.”
I sigh before reciting the rigid criteria. An easy feat, considering he’s told me at least a million times. “Get in and out. Keep my phone on. Only talk to one of the girls.”
“Right,” he agrees. “All you’re doing is trying totalkto one of the girls. Got it?”
“Yes.” I start forward, sensing that he’s on the verge of attempting to talk me out of it—also for the millionth time.
“By the way, you look sexy,” he adds in a low tone that makes me stop short, my cheeks flaming. I look over to find him nodding in approval, biting his lower lip. “You might have to roleplay as a redhead every now and again.”
I eye the neckline of the tight black minidress he procured for me. It’s the polar opposite of my usual style, along with a wig composed of synthetic curls. A cakey layer of makeup obscures the worst of my bruises, and I’d barely recognized myself in the mirror.
“You have ten minutes,” Rafe warns, switching to a more serious baritone. “I mean it. Now set up your phone.”
“Okay.” I grab my phone from my purse, dial his number, and speak directly into it. “Got it.”
Undertaking his role seriously, I sense him trailing in my wake with every step I take. I spy his car lurking a few yards away from the corner of my eye as I approach the front doors where a bouncer stands guard. Tall, bulky, he wears an ill-fitting suit and has a cigarette sticking from his mouth as I submit to his inspection. As Rafe predicted, he takes one look at me and inclines his head to the door.
“Next time, remember that dancers go in through the back,” he growls on my way past.
A short, darkened hallway separates the entrance from the club proper. One step inside and I’m bombarded by an arrangement of pulsating, blaring rock music. Blue strobe lights create a chaotic atmosphere similar to the inside of Rafe’s club.
The only difference?
The Dragon’s Head didn’t sport several scantily clad women dancing on various platforms spread throughout. It’s such a culture shock. I don’t know how to react without giving myself away. Or where to look…
Like a fish out of water, I linger on the outskirts until a flash of a brighter blue draws my attention to a girl walking past. She’s tall, thin, and despite the turquoise wig, her features are strikingly familiar. I start to follow her, and something in her posture triggers a memory.
She’s the girl Rafe, and I talked to the night Faith went missing, Lylah.
