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“That’s enough, Miley. If you can’t play nice, you can leave the interrogation,” said King. “Now, Amber, honey, is your daddy your real daddy?”
“Eww. No. My old man was a drunk and used to pimp me out, until I slipped some rat poison in his whiskey. Ewan is my daddy who loves me and likes to fuck me. He bought me my new boobs. Aren’t they pretty?”
“How did you meet your daddy?”
“I was working in a strip club, and he said he recognized talent. He also said I was kind of the same size and shape as Alicia. I’m much prettier than her. I have blonde hair, great tits, and don’t weigh anything close to what she does. She needs to work out. I’ll bet that Brock gives her a good workout when he fucks her.”
“What happened next, Amber?”
How King maintained his cool was something Brock would never understand or be able to duplicate. That was probably why King was the brains, and Brock was part of the brawn.
“Well, he recognized Alicia’s picture from the snooty strip club where the girls don’t even get naked, and the guys don’t get lap dances. How’s a girl supposed to make money if she doesn’t give a guy a happy ending? Anyway, he said we could make a lot of money—millions he said—if we just made Alicia disappear, this time for good. When the insurance company started sniffing around, daddy decided we needed to make our move and make sure Alicia stayed dead. So, daddy made me get this job so I could be his spy.”
“Did you help anyone else while you were here?”
She nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times you guys weren’t good about clearing the cache on the copy machine. I just downloaded it, and daddy found buyers. He’s so smart about stuff like that. You guys should just accept that daddy thinks Alicia is a threat, and he has to eliminate threats. Why is she growling at me?”
“Just one bullet…” murmured Miley.
“Out, Miley.”
“King…”
“I said, out.”
Miley stormed out. “Well, what are you doing just standing there? We need to go find Alicia.”
“There will be no shooting of balls, no bonfire, no s’mores and no singing of Kumbaya with Alicia and the rest of the girls,” said Damon as he joined them.
Seth left the interrogation. “Dillon intervened and is liaising with the local cops…”
“In other words, he’s using a police scanner modified by you to listen in on their calls.”
“Whatever,” said Seth. “A driver called about a suspicious car driving along the lakeside. The guy thought it looked like a possible abduction. He thought it was a hand waving out of the trunk, but he couldn’t be sure.”
“Alicia,” Brock and Miley said in unison.
“Miley, you’re with me. Seth, get the location of that car, and get one of Damon’s drones to find it,” said Brock as he grabbed the keys to one of the SUVs and called for the elevator that went from the offices to the parking lot.
“Bye, babe. See you in a bit. Do me a favor and make reservations somewhere and ask Camille to bring Alicia something to change into. I gotta go; Brock might shoot the motherfucker before I do.”
“I’m calling dibs,” Brock called over his shoulder.
Black humor was standard operating procedure for Cerberus.
“Only if it’s handguns. If there are rifles involved, that sonofabitch is mine.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to swear.”
“No, it’s okay. I negotiated a crisis exception.”
They were in the car and headed for the exit when Seth called. “I’ve verified the sighting. It’s a pretty good bet that it is Alicia, and we have a drone closing in. I’m pretty damn sure that’s your girl’s hand waving around for all it is worth. Go get ‘em.”
“Seriously, Brock,” said Miley, “let me take his tires out when he stops. We’ll be right on top of him and take him down. No fuss. No muss. Alicia will be back in your arms in nothing flat.”
It made sense. Miley truly was the best shot at Cerberus. The last thing they wanted to do was something that would cause the car to crash. Shooting out one or two tires should do the trick.
“I’m depending on you, Miley.”
