Page 47 of Deadly Ruck
"Do I want to know?" I said with a wince. Judging by the expression on his face it didn't matter, I didn't have a choice.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chelsea
I didn't knowwho paid the security guard to let me in without question, but she did. She smiled and nodded, waving me past. Not without an edge of urgency. She was paid to let me through, not to lose her job.
I made a mental note to check back later and make sure she didn't. If she did, I'd find her one somewhere else. One that paid so well she didn't need to take bribes.
Either way, I stepped past her and in through the side entrance.
A few people noticed me. Some stopped to stare, to ogle, but no one tried to stop me.
At some point in my life, I'd perfected the art of pretending I belonged. I did it so well, people believed I did more often than not.
I employed that now. I also wore my official lanyard and identification around my neck. For all they knew, I'd been rehired.
One of the good things about Dusk Bay was that people didn't ask too many questions. Not about things like this. In particular, they didn't ask me. Good, because today I wouldn't have giventhem any answers. I was here for only one reason, and it wasn't for a social call.
Heart in my throat, I headed to the bank of elevators and took the first one heading down to the pool area.
The guys were scattered around the building, ready if I needed anything. I took their word for it that what happened to Jones had been completely suppressed. If it hadn't, I was walking into a trap.
I reminded myself the guys and my brother were listening via the microphone hidden in my bra. If anything evenlookedlike going south, they'd be right there.
If they could get to me in time. This whole operation was risky, but like my brother said, I had no choice. The Brantley family wouldn't let me walk away now. Honestly, I would let myself walk away. I needed to see this all the way through to the end. In an hour or two, this would be over, one way or the other.
The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. I shoved away the thought that maybe I was walking to my execution, and stepped out, chin raised.
As planned, I pushed through the doors into the pool area as Skinner was finishing a session with one of the players. Not one of mine, so he barely gave me a glance before he hurried off to shower. The glance he did give me came with a smirk. I've course he'd read the headline or someone told him. Whatever, I wasn't letting that small detail get to me. In the scheme of things, it was barely a blip on the radar.
Skinner, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes at me. "You shouldn't be here." He was always so kind and welcoming. Not. If he was surprised to see me, he didn't show it. What did that mean? Did he know Jones was dead, or was he not privy to the cartel leader's plans? I guessed it was the latter. He was a lackey. Jones owed him no explanations. The same way Reuben Brantley owed me none.
"Hello, it's nice to see you too," I said with venomous sweetness.
He grunted, irritated at being called out, however subtly. "Did you want something,MissMiller?"
"DoctorMiller," I corrected. The next person who called me miss, in a derisive way, was going to feel my heel on their balls.
He clearly did it to get a response from me. The fact he had amused him. I saw that in his eyes and the faint, smug smile on his mouth.
Fucker.
"I'd question the accuracy of that, but whatever you want to believe." He shrugged. "I asked you a question. Did you want something?"
"You could say that," I said. "I'm curious what you have to gain in working for Carlos Jones."
His flinch was subtle, but it was there. He really hadn't known about Jones' plans, because he wasn't a good enough actor to hide his surprise.
"I have no idea who that is,” he said trying to regain his composure. “I work for the Smashers. If that's all you've come to say, you can leave or I'll have security remove you."
"You're a crappy liar," I told him. To be honest, it felt good to be so blunt with the man. I'd walked on eggshells around him for long enough. It was time for him to bear the brunt of my real thoughts about him. Fuck with me and I'll fuck back.
"We both know you know who Jones is. But in case you need a reminder, he's the head of the Crimson Vipers. They're a cartel with connections to organised crime. Tight connections. They traffic drugs, guns, money. People. Carlos Jones thought it was a good idea to try to take on those he worked for. He got too big for his boots. Sound familiar?" I cocked my head at him and waited for an answer. Watched while he squirmed.
"What if it does?" Skinner asked. He stood beside the pool with a clipboard in his hand, held as though he might try to use it as a weapon. "I know exactly who you are, and what your connections are. You're involved as deep as he is."
"Firstly, no I'm not," I said evenly. "Secondly, I never was." Not yet anyway. My involvement was a drop in the ocean compared to Jones. "Thirdly,was."
