I was worried that Lark was actively looking for trouble.
“Call me if she moves.”
The elevator opened into my private underground garage. I walked down the two rows of cars, passing the Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and McLarens.
My black Ducati motorcycle gleamed under the lights.
I yanked on a black helmet, grabbed a second helmet off the rack and stowed it, then I threw a leg over the bike. I gunned the engine. The roar was loud in the enclosed space.
I pulled out. A moment later, I was on Las Vegas Boulevard, weaving through the traffic.
I’d find her, then I’d turn her over my knee and spank her.
Several minutes later, I pulled onto West Tropicana. It was an uninspired strip of road, flanked by budget hotels, warehouses, and businesses that were closed at this time of night. Sex workers in short skirts and skimpy tops wandered the sidewalks.
I pulled into a shadowed corner of a near-empty parking lot in front of an abandoned building and cut the engine. My phone rang.
“I’m right behind you.” It was Cole’s voice.
“Theo called you?”
“He did. Thought you might need backup.”
A second later, I heard the low throb of a Harley. The bike pulled up beside me. Cole, wearing a black leather jacket, lifted a hand.
I lifted my chin. “Lark ran off. I’m not sure what she’s doing here. She might have a lead on the killer we’re tracking.”
“And she’s tracking it down alone.”
“Not for long,” I clipped.
“There’s a long story.”
Cole swung off his bike. “Let’s find your girl.”
“Thanks, Cole.”
I headed off down the sidewalk while Cole headed in the other direction. I should’ve changed. Cole blended in with his black leather, my suit stood out like a damn neon light.
I didn’t give a fuck.
Where are you, little bird?
I catalogued several sex workers, watching them shiver in the cold. A few were huddled in faux fur coats of various colors. They all eyed me and my suit hopefully.
As I watched, a sedan pulled over, and one tall redhead sauntered closer, and chatted through the open window. A minute later, she got inside.
“Hey there, handsome,” a raspy voice said. “You lost? That pricey suit will get you mugged around here.”
I turned. The woman looked like she was in her forties, but she was probably younger. Life had worn her down. A blue spandex dress hugged her curvy body and her curls were dyed blonde, although her dark roots had grown out a few inches.
“I’m not an easy target,” I told her.
She eyed me. These women could assess who was dangerous pretty quickly. She cocked a hip. “Then are you looking for a good time?”
I shook my head. “I’m looking for a specific woman. She’s about five feet tall, fit, she usually has black hair, but she could be wearing a wig.”
“Darlin’, girls get lost in the Blade all the time. They don’t usually want to be found.”
