Page 38 of Love Me Darkly
“You’re doing the right thing. Probably for the first time in your pathetic life.”
The pimp stared up at him, one gold canine flashing when he sneered. “Won’t matter in the end. You think Roman is just some rich mothafucka with too much power, but it’s more than that. The man is a freak. He’s into some pretty dark shit.”
Mateo raised an eyebrow. “Dark shit, huh? Like carving up women and draining them of their blood?”
It had occurred to Mateo that Roman could be the UNSUB. He fit the profile well enough, being the right age and having the wealth and connections needed to move under the radar. But, something had given him pause and he wasn’t yet ready to point the finger at Korenic. He had looked into that computer screen, into Korenic’s eyes. Something in him would have recognized Mari’s killer—he was certain of it. Still, the man’s involvement was worth considering. If nothing else, he provided the means by which the UNSUB obtained his victims.
Suede shook his head. “Look, I’ll tell you what I know about Roman because that was the deal, but that’s it. If you’re too stupid to see how high this thing goes, that ain’t my problem.”
Mateo leaned closer, forcing Suede to meet and maintain his stare. The pimp’s dark eyes had gone cold with dread.
“How high, Tariq?”
“Too high for my Black ass to ever reach, and that’s all I have to say about that. Otherwise, I end up in a bathtub with all my limbs severed.”
Mateo left the room then, knowing they had already milked Suede for all he was worth. Donovan was waiting for him when he emerged.
“Well, that was easier than I expected,” he drawled.
“Thank God for the Mad Hatter,” Mateo replied. “If Darcy hadn’t uncovered Korenic’s identity, Tariq might not have cracked.”
“So, what next?”
Mateo grimaced, looking at Donovan. Despite their sleepless night and long morning, the younger agent appeared to be wide awake. There wasn’t a single line on his smooth, dark face and his silver eyes were wide open and clear. Mateo was dead on his feet, starving, exhausted, and still sore from the beating he’d taken the other night. He had only just regained the feeling in his fingers.
“I couldn’t tell you right now if I wanted to,” Mateo muttered. “I’m going back to the hotel for a few hours. Don’t call me unless it’s earth-shattering. I’ll report back later.”
“Yeah, man,” Donovan replied, pounding his shoulder. “You look like shit.”
“So nice of you to point that out.”
Mateo wasn’t sure how he managed to make it out to his car, and then to the hotel, but it seemed as if he’d blinked and then arrived at his door. He ordered room service before stepping into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. He washed away the aches and pains of a body that had been battered far too much in the past year. He washed away the smells of desperation, fear, and human waste that always seemed to cling to a body after a brothel raid. He watched it all run off him and pour down the drain, head lowered under the spray.
He'd just managed to dry off and pull on a pair of sweatpants when a knock on the door announced that his lunch had arrived. For at least an hour, his mind ceased its constant motion, the mental rummaging through the various pieces of information he’d gathered over the last few days. He stopped trying to rationalize any of it with what he already knew and tended to his physical needs for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He ate until he felt his stomach would explode, then drank an entire liter of water, having been unaware how dehydrated he was until the first trickle hit the back of his throat. He collapsed onto the bed and slept like the dead.
But when he woke it was all waiting for him. The sun had set, and he had missed two calls from Donovan and one from Darcy. There were messages from Carlisle indicating that his warrant for further surveillance of Solstice had been approved—they could now install wiretaps into the club’s back rooms in hopes of catching wind of something useful. After being unable to get a hold of him, Donovan and Darcy had sent texts. Donovan wanted him to know that Suede had given his full statement and been put into protective custody. Darcy wanted him to know that she’d uncovered a private jet itinerary that was scheduled to bring Roman Korenic back into town in a week. None of it could be acted on right now. It was getting late, and Mateo had slept through what was left of the day.
Filling a tumbler of Scotch, he paced to the window and peered out into the night. He could easily fall back into bed and sleep another twelve hours. He’d wake up fresh and ready to tackle all the latest developments in the morning.
But as the Scotch forged a fiery path down his throat and into his chest, Mateo shrugged off the idea. Now that he’d determined there was nothing left to do for the day, his mind took him where it always did these days.
Melody.
Had she heard about the raid? Did she know that her VIP regulars had been taken into custody and started talking? Now that he’d made his first move, had her situation become more stable or more dangerous?
His fingers tightened around the tumbler, and he closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the windowpane. She had been crystal clear with him the night before; he was to stay far away from her. Without any real evidence, Mateo had no legal basis to keep following her around. At least, not unless Darcy unearthed something that implicated her in this mess.
The longer he stood there arguing with himself, the more futile it became. Every contention his logical mind made against the idea of going to Solstice was torn to shreds by one simple, irrefutable fact. There was nothing logical about it. He had to see her. He had to lay eyes on her and make sure she was still living, breathing, walking and talking. He had to peer into her eyes one more time and try again to puzzle out the truth.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he downed what was left of his Scotch and left the glass on the windowsill. He threw on the first clean clothes his hands fell on and took up the keys to his rental. He left his work phone behind, taking only his personal cell. No weapons, no surveillance tech, nothing but himself and Melody. He wasn’t leaving until he got answers.
Mateo leaned against the wall and followed Melody with his eyes. The throbbing bass of the music pounded through his veins, making him aware of his heartbeat. Its rhythm was steady, but each beat thumped through him in throbbing pulses. He had been at Solstice for nearly an hour, but Melody gave no indication that she was aware of his presence. Instead of sitting in her section, Mateo lurked on the fringes of the second level, watching her every move. The club was as busy as ever, which kept her in constant motion—taking orders, fetching drinks, clearing tables. She wore ruby red tonight. The body-hugging dress flaunted the nip of her waist and the flare of her hips. The short hem made her legs appear endless, and the matching fuck-me heels gave her a few extra inches of height, making it easy to keep her in his sights.
She seemed different tonight. He had noticed the change in her the second he had arrived. The genuine warmth in the smile she typically gave her customers was absent. The usual fluidity of her movements was stifled, as if it was all she could do to place one foot in front of the other or make her hands lift and manipulate objects. Her eyes were avoidant, shuttered, and she chewed her lip as if distracted. Mateo felt certain she knew about the raid. Could that be the reason for her distraction? Was she worried that the walls were starting to close in, that she might be next on the chopping block?
There was only one way to find out. Remembering that she was allowed a break every hour, he glanced at his watch. Sure enough, she deposited her tray at the bar and exchanged words with Rudy. Then, she was heading straight for him, though her gaze was cast downward. Mateo backed down the hallway, pressing himself against the wall and holding his breath as she approached. The surface of his skin began to tingle and he clenched his fingers into his palms. She was so close now he could smell her, and still she didn’t look up, didn’t notice him until she had nearly walked straight into him.
He peeled himself away from the shadows and stood in her path, grasping her upper arms when she collided with him.
