“You can take off for the rest of the night, Becca.”
The low command drew my gaze back to where she and the server crouched on the floor. She was busy picking up the broken glass and garnish the other woman dropped from her tray. The tinyplink, plinksound of the glass pieces dropping and clattering on the tray seemed like too innocent a sound for the violent aftermath of a few minutes ago.
Becca finally shook herself from her apparent shock. “No, it’s okay, boss.” She sniffled again and reached out to pick up what was once the base of a tumbler to add to the tray. “Rob just got another round of chemo, and I need the overtime. Thanks for taking care of that asshole.”
Lorelai’s glare was obviously covered by the mask, but she turned her head toward the disheveled server. She stopped picking up the pieces, bracing herself on the fingertips of one hand as she leaned toward Becca slightly. “You think I’m not paying you for tonight? You’re getting double your overtime for all this, now get the fuck outta here. And tell Rob to take it easy.”
The look of warm appreciation on Becca’s face said volumes about her opinion of the other woman. I leaned my back against the wall and folded my arms, watching the motherly interactions of a woman who had just stabbed out the eye of a man. Everything about her confused me and attracted me in equal parts.
Still braced against the black wall, almost blending in with my dark clothes, I didn’t realize Lorelai knew I was still here until she jerked her head in my direction. The last guard, Brad, stepped closer to her to receive his orders. “Escort Mr. Black out the front and close the doors for an hour. Then round up the rest of the staff. I’m going to have a meeting with them before I leave.”
Brad nodded and turned toward me. “No need to put your hands on me. I’m gone.” I held my hands up in the universal sign for surrender. “Heaven forbid I get my eyeball plucked out with the other guy’s.”
Her sidekick had the audacity to laugh at my deadpan remark. “She only goes for the eyes if you piss her off,” he answered brightly. “Come on, and you won’t need to go eyepatch shopping.”
“Is your boss always so violent?”
Brad guffawed again. I stepped to his side, and we both made our way through the lounge toward the front entryway. Lorelai was at the bar, bent over to say something to the bartender. Was he here the whole time? Or was someone getting mauled so common an occurrence that no one batted an eyelash at it? She ignored us completely as we walked behind her. That spicy-sweet scent I now associated with Lorelai was diluted out here in the open room, but it still found its way to my sensitive nose, and I took one last deep breath to savor it.
I was so fucked.
The Red Riot Boss
Lore
Reaching high above my head and twisting my hands together, my back gave a satisfyingcrackleas I popped the tension from it. I could already feel that my hair was abedraggled mess, but I couldn’t be bothered to fix it before coffee. After shoving my feet in comfy slippers—shaped like cartoon foxes, a gag gift from Taylor two birthdays ago—I shuffled my way to the kitchen and stabbed the on button for the coffee machine on my way to the pantry. Anything I did before coffee I was not responsible for, like the burnt toast I ended up with or the fact I had to hunt for my phone for ten minutes before finding it on the top shelf in the fridge next to the creamer. How the fuck it got there I had no clue.
Finally, after the painful chores of being an adult and a sad piece of toast hanging from my mouth, I threw myself into my computer chair and wiggled my mouse to wake the three screens up. “Time to see what fuckery I’m dealing with today,” I muttered around my mouthful of breakfast. My first order of business after logging in was to check the Vegas news. It didn’t disappoint.
Tech Company CEO and Powerhouse Frank DeNiro Suspected Dead!
Confirmed Death of Tech Powerhouse CEO Frank DeNiro!
Insider from DeNiro Tech Speculates Who Would Kill CEO Frank DeNiro!
I scoffed at the last one. “Unlikely.”
With my free left hand, I opened up the police records system and slipped through the security to read the reports from his crime scene. From what I could tell, they didn’t have any leads on who killed him. The cleanup crews Taylor managed were always thorough in scrubbing the scenes, so I wasn't too worried the police investigations would lead back to me. And even if they did find evidence, the detectives would either wipe it from the system or end up eighty-sixed. Regardless, it was a habit of mine to comb through the records after one of my playdates to make sure everything was cleaned up, and nothing pointed back at me. It’s a good work ethic.
The LVPD and Red Riot had a symbiotic relationship. Whenever people were reported missing, they would bring information to us to put through our vast whisper network in the city to try and assist with any leads on their whereabouts. No one paid attention to escorts and sex workers, and the sheer amount of information they were able to glean because of that was mutually beneficial for the mob and police. Workers were more willing to talk to someone from the Riot than a detective. In return, we had some leniency in dealing with the abusers and human traffickers who preyed on visitors and residents alike.
I could almost guarantee no one on the force would mourn the loss of scum like Frank DeNiro. His ex-wife submitted her fair share of domestic violence reports back in California, before he moved to Vegas three years ago. She didn’t come with him… smart woman. My mind wandered to the two hostages I’d found in his basement. Kim Tanger, the woman who mentioned she was a dancer at one of the few clubs the Riot had some involvement with, and the young girl, Laura Smithson, who’d been snatched in front of her junior high almost two weeks ago. She was a foster kid living with her maternal aunt and uncle, who were afraid to report her missing since the husband was a raging alcoholic with prior charges.
The doctor on retainer with the Riot completed rape tests on both of them. And both came back positive. If I could somehow bring Frank back from the dead, I’d torture him for a week and let them do the honors of killing him. As it was, he was currently mulch in Jerel’s back yard along with a bag of cow shit and garden soil. Fitting, but not nearly as satisfying after getting those kit results back. Kim insisted she was fine and cussed Jerel out when he offered her some financial and psychological support on my behalf, but Laura latched onto the prospect of a psychiatrist and a trust set up in her name for half a million to be released to her at eighteen.
Did any of that erase what horrors they had to endure? Absolutely not. Did I hope they could use the help to find some place of peace? Until my dying breath. Taylor was right; I couldn’t save every victim of sexual assault. I wanted to be the person I wished I had when Elio had broken the spirit of Lorelai McGregor. He may have fucked the will to live out of her, but this incarnation would drag his ass down to hell with me.
Fingers drumming idly on the desk, I tilted back to finish the dregs of my cooling coffee before moving on to the next chore for the day. My hand reached for the phone sitting face down beside the keyboard and thumbed through the address book to the one named Puppy. I smiled at what the owner of that number would think, knowing I had the number for his encrypted phone, and that I’d saved him under the nickname he hated. I sent the address to the cafe where I planned to meet him, and the instructions after.
Meet me for lunch today. 11:30. Don’t be late.
The three dots popped up immediately. Grant was typing a response.
Who is this?I could almost imagine the cute scowl darkening his face as he glared at his phone.How did you get this number?
A smile threatened to split my face in half from how wide it grew.The person you’ve been looking for.
Lore Brennan?
