Page 57 of Dark Things
“Now that’s where your good news comes in. The pair have been traveling all over the East Coast, especially in New York City. I’ve got about a dozen trips documented.”
Shit.
“What part of the city did they stay in?” Colt asks, his voice almost a whisper.
“Upper East Side, mostly. There’s an AirBNB that they stay in frequently, but for no more than two nights before they check out. That’s the only place that pops up. If I had to guess though, they’re using it for a diversion.”
“Meaning they’re not staying there. But the neighborhood is suspicious. Keep digging until you find something,” Colt says.
“I don’t think I will, but it’s your money, so I’m not going to complain,” he says, chuckling.
Colt hangs up without saying goodbye and we all crash onto the couches. My dreams of tacos just went out the window; I’m too fucking angry to eat now.
“If they’re staying in our old neighborhood, this is another fucking coincidence that we can’t ignore. Do you guys see what I’m saying now? They knowsomething, and I’m sick of being the last to know everything,” I growl.
“You were right Brooks, it might be time to make them see reason. Belle is out there somewhere, and we need to find her,” Staff says. “I’ll try to ask them some more at the study session. Maybe if we’re not all together, and we’re in a private area they’ll be more inclined to talk.”
I don’t have faith in this plan. The only thing I can think to do is go see Jimbo and hope that he knows something, because this mysterious bullshit is getting old.
23
Rebelle
Ihate clubs. The lights, the noise, and all the sweaty people crammed in one area. And don’t forget the drunk assholes who think it’s okay to put their hands where they don’t belong.
“You want a drink?” Haunt whispers in my ear. It’s so fucking loud in here I can’t even hear myself think.
I nod, taking his hand as he leads us to the bar. While he’s getting the bartender's attention, I take a look at the space. It’s nothing special, but I guess college kids don’t need fancy. The clubs in the city are a whole different world than this shit-hole.
A big guy dressed in all black catches my eye as I track his movements to a curtained area. He slips behind it, but doesn’t come out. Interesting.
Haunt hands me my drink, and I take a sip, keeping my eyes trained on the curtain. There’s nothing else of real relevance. No VIP section or ropedoff area for expensive table service. Just a bar, dance floor, deejay booth, and a hallway that must lead to the bathrooms.
I start walking toward the curtained-off area, Haunt following me. When we get to the dance floor right next to it, I pull Haunt closer and start to dance, neither of us really putting any effort in, but blending in with the rest of the crowd.
Haunt leans down and brushes his lips with the shell of my ear. “Another guy just disappeared through the curtain. Want to follow?” He nibbles on my neck before letting go and looking into my eyes.
I smile, and tug him toward the edge of the curtain. Without looking back, I duck behind it, giving myself a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The only thing back here is a stool where I’m sure a guard should sit and two doors. I’m hoping one of them leads to wherever the fuck Mario does business.
Haunt tries the first door, but it’s locked. The second opens up into a small storage room. Nothing of importance, cleaning supplies and what looks like shelves of tarps and plastic.
“Want to wait for the poor bastard to come back and then we can get in that way, or are you looking for something more stealthy?” Haunt jokes, knowing full damn well I don’t do stealthy.
“Let’s see what the guard has to say when he gets back. I’m sure it will be enlightening.”
Haunt posts himself beside the door, and I stand inthe middle of the hallway. We’ve done this so many times, we don’t have to communicate.
A click sounds from the other side of the door, and I steady myself, hand resting on my thigh, just over the handle of my blade hidden by my skirt.
A huge, burly guy comes out, his bald head shiny from the overhead light. He spots me and steps back for a second before a scowl forms on his face.
“You shouldn’t be back here,” he growls, taking two steps toward me.
I smile, pulling my knife from its sheath. “I’m exactly where I want to be. You’re the one who’s going to be second-guessing your career choices.”
He grabs his gun from behind his back, but before he can straighten to point it at me, my blade arcs through the air and lands in his shoulder.
