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“He is. Which is why I’m going to see him.” I step by Mia, walking back into the hotel room. I open the wardrobe, my eyes running over the few things I managed to have brought here after The Rite. Not much I can choose from, though. I traded the sharp suits for slutty clothes to hook up with random guys at the hotel bar, but I ended up relying on booze alone to escape reality.
“I’m gonna need something powerful but sexy.”
“Why would you wear something sexy when you’re going to meet an enemy?”
“Because Zayne Thorngren is a nerd, probably autistic, who freezes in front of pussy.”
“How do you know? You’ve never met the guy.”
“No, because he’s very private, which only confirms my theory. He’s respected at MIT like a scientific Jesus, so he’s definitely a super brain. Private, secluded, hence socially awkward.” I cock my head to the side as I calculate, my hands still on the open wardrobe doors. “He was at war with Joseph over who gets to control the drugs on the streets, so it’s safe to conclude he’s an evil genius with the balls to get into virtual fist-fights with thugs. He’s also got businesses in the underground that would give Machiavelli a run for his money.”
“Yeah, we were together when we stumbled over some of this stuff,” she murmurs. A tremor runs down my spine, and if Mia’s tone is any indication, she’s feeling the same.
“And you think you can manipulate a guy like that?” she continues. “I mean, awkward nerd or not, it sure won’t be the first time some chick has pulled the sexy trick on him.”
“I don’t expect he’s easy to manipulate. You don’t become the head of the entire pharma industry, with the most powerful lobbyists working in your favor at the White House, if you are. But maybe he can get a little intimidated. I could try to make him feel like he’s sixteen again, a pimpled boy masturbating under the sheets to the cover of Playboy. Context matters.”
Mia steps next to me, and I drop a hand to let her inspect my wardrobe.
“Red?” she chirps.
“No, not red. That’s your color, and I always looked better in black.” My eyes narrow as I put together an outfit in my head. “Maybe a leather jacket and black lace pumps. A tiny cream satin dress underneath.” Problem is, I have none of that in my wardrobe.
“Mhm, bold. It’ll look both badass sexy, and classy with your hair down and maybe some dark red lipstick. The question is, how do we get to him?”
I shake my head. “Not we. Me. I get to him.”
“But–”
“No buts, Mia. Declan will never forgive me if I get you involved with that kind of thug. I’m gonna have to do this alone.”
“Let me at least give you cover.” She gestures toward the window. “Half the city gangsters are after you and–”
“I’ll be careful about how I leave the hotel. Besides, even if I do get caught, nobody’s gonna kill me, not yet. They need me alive to sign things off or to otherwise use me. I would be facing a mafia capo or two before anyone puts a bullet in my head.” I tap my chin with my index finger as the wheels turn in my head. “I would rather not get kidnapped, though. It would be a nuisance.”
“If you do get to Zayne Thorngren, he might be the one to kidnap you. So, how about you let me help?” She holds out her hands before I can protest. “Let’s just start with some good old shopping, okay? After all, we can’t afford anything less than perfect for the Zayne Thorngren Mission, and you don’t seem to have what you need here anyway.” Then, with a dip of her tone that won’t let me say no, “Let me do this for you at least. I’ve got a car ready outside and a squad of bodyguards with experience in Afghanistan. No one will be kidnapping you on my watch.”
I look down at my purse, discarded on the vanity table, the contents spilling out of it. I pick up one of the black cards. I have access to a lot of Joseph’s money, even if not all of it, until he’s officially declared dead.
“Let’s start by spending the asshole’s money.” Wicked satisfaction seeps into my tone. “It won’t lure him out of his hideout, but maybe it will make him toss and turn in it.” My eyes shoot up to Mia’s, whose grin mirrors mine.
When she and I first met, we struck a deal. I would help her get intel on another member of the Blood Fist Triad she was investigating, namely Jax Vaughn, and she would help me get dirt on my husband. I assumed the code name Dakota and met her in a coffee shop with a baseball cap pulled low over my eyes. There, I told her my story.
I told her that when Joseph and I met, I had already built a few successful start-ups, but I was young, and they weren’t a big deal. We met at a charity where I was hunting for business angels for my new project, an independent media outlet that would actually bring truth to the world. I was also one of the podcasting pioneers, and he was my first hot-shot guest. The head of the New York Corp Bank. I couldn’t believe my luck, I was walking on clouds.
Joseph fascinated me. He was an older, well-spoken man from whom I felt I had much to learn. I wasn’t wrong there. But boy, was I wrong about the price I would have to pay. Soon, he held me in a chokehold. Keeping me confined to our villa made it easy for him to cheat with models every other day, and his substance abuse problem gradually got out of hand. It turned him into a violent man. I eventually learned to avoid his wrath and turned to champagne more often than I liked to cope with my dire circumstances.
Yet the more I learned about the filthy bastard, the more I hated him, and there was only so much that booze could do to numb that down. I couldn’t keep my arms crossed anymore. I had to do something about the underage girls he drugged senseless and fucked with his buddies, about the kids he sent out on the streets to sell his drugs, about the way he waved his hand when one of those kids got shot in the head as if it didn’t matter. They were just cannon fodder to him.
So Mia and I partnered up. We made one hell of a team, she and I.
“I just hope we haven’t become danger junkies,” I tell her with a smile.
She smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Just don’t forget the evil genius part,” she warns. “Remember the stuff we discovered on the streets about Thorngren. That man is Machiavelli made flesh. Even the Blood Fist Triad are wary of him.” And we both know what that means. If he makes the rulers of the underground squeamish, there’s got to be something truly devilish about the man. “I’ll ask Declan to–”
“I told you, I don’t want Declan involved in this. At all. He’s already done enough having the guys from The Rite interrogated.” My voice fades over those last few words.
