Page 92 of Lucky's Trouble

“What?” I say into my phone.

“Heard what happened with your girl,” the voice on the other end says.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“It’s Loki, asshole.”

“Are you calling to send your condolences? Because I got shit to do.” The last strand of patience I possessed evaporated hours ago.

“Only reason I’m not driving over there and beating your ass for being such a dick right now is because I know how you feel. But one more insult, fucker, and I won’t be giving you the intel I have.”

“You know something?” I perk up, gaining Rigger’s attention next to me at the bar. We’ve been sitting here for hours, watching Satyr type away on his laptop and work through whatever was in the file.

“Not me. Karina.”

“What does she know?”

“You can ask her yourself.”

There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line, and then Karina is on the phone. “I can’t say for sure it’s the guy you’re looking for, but a little over a month ago, Neal arranged for Tinleigh to give a private dance.”

“Didn’t she do that every night?”

“Yeah, but this was different. Neal’s always used the club to scout prospective buyers. I’ve seen it before where one of us would dance for a special client, and soon after, that girl would disappear. I got the feeling that’s what he was doing with her.”

If I could kill Neal a million times over, it would never calm the rage burning inside me. As it stands, this might be who I am now: angry, short-tempered, and irrational.

“Do you know who he was?” I ask.

“No, but I can tell you what he looks like. If you can get ahold of the security tapes at the club, maybe you can figure it out from there?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“He was tall, broad, good-looking, and had dark features. Black hair with a little scruff. Working in that profession for so long, I can tell a lot by how a person dresses, and this guy has money. His suit was designer, and it was tailored, not off the rack, you know?”

It’s not enough to narrow things down, but it’s something. “Yeah. Thanks, Karina.”

“No, thank you. Now that Neal is. . . gone, I don’t have to leave Reno and keep looking over my shoulder.” She sniffles. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” It’s an asshole thing to say, but it’s the truth.

“Doesn’t matter why. You did it, so thank you.”

“Glad you’re safe,” I say, still not accepting her praise. “What’ll you do now?”

“Not sure. Maybe I’ll apply at the Honey Pot.”

“Have Loki shoot me a text if you do. I’ll make sure your application gets bumped to the top of the stack.”

“I will. Good luck finding Tinleigh.”

I end the call and set the phone on the bar, turning to Rigger. “Think Melville could get us the security feed?”

“No need. I can hack into their system,” Satyr calls out.

“Goddamn. Keep impressing me like this, and I might kiss you,” I say, feeling the first boost of hope in fuck knows how long.

“Keep your lips to yourself.” Satyr glares at me, and then refocuses.

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