Page 36 of Ruthless Riches
Damn. Actually thought we had the Butcher for a second.
I put my phone away and went back to looking sad at the bar, ordering mocktail after mocktail. Two hours passed, and nothing happened aside from a couple of drunk guys approaching me for a chat. They’d recognized me from the news and wanted to ask questions about the Golden Circle.
Nate messaged me again just after eleven. I’ve never been so fucking bored in my life.
I smiled faintly and texted him back. Sorry. He might be waiting until everyone in this place is super sloppy drunk.
I figured the Butcher was most likely to approach me then, so he could try to lure me out of the club without being noticed or remembered by other people.
When another forty-five minutes passed uneventfully, Nate texted me again. Maybe do a few laps of the dancefloor. See if anyone tries to approach you there.
I did as he said. A few guys tried to grind on me, but when they realized I had no interest in them, they left me alone. I went back to the bar and messaged Nate. Still no bites.
Dammit. You could try the smoking terrace, he replied.
Where’s that?
Head through the exit and make a left. I can see it if I go over to the window, so I’ll know if anyone follows you out.
I headed toward the exit and stepped onto the tiled terrace on the left. I wasn’t surprised to find it empty. It was absolutely freezing outside.
I stood near the balustraded edge and played around on my phone, pretending to text people. Fifteen minutes went by, and no one joined me.
After another five minutes, the tip of my nose felt like it was about to freeze right off, so I went back inside and returned to the platform bar for one last mocktail. I made sure to stumble a bit as I walked, so anyone who saw me would think I was drunk as a skunk.
A tall blond guy approached me up at the bar, but he was joined by a girl a few seconds later. She grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear, eyes narrowed into angry slits, and he drunkenly waved at me before stumbling away with her.
I sighed and messaged Nate again. That was just another drunk guy. Maybe we were wrong. Maybe the Butcher didn’t follow us here tonight.
He replied right away. Yeah, or maybe he’s afraid of approaching you when there are so many people around. We might have to think of another way to draw him out.
Me: Should we head home?
Nate: Yeah. We’ve been here for four hours. If he was going to approach you, I think he would’ve done it by now.
I walked toward the side exit again, and Nate met me there. We retrieved our jackets from the coat check service, and then we headed down to the parking lot.
I let out a heavy sigh as I braced myself against the cold wind. The night was dark enough to match my mood, with the stars and moon hidden behind thick, angry clouds.
“That was such a waste of time,” I muttered. “I really thought it would work.”
Nate rubbed my back. “It was worth a shot,” he replied. “I still think we can lure him out. Just not in a busy place, I guess.”
I nodded, lips pressing into a tight line. When we reached the car, I went around to the passenger side and waited for Nate to unlock the doors.
As I stood there, I heard my phone vibrate in my purse. I pulled it out to see a message from Unknown Sender.
Nice try. Unfortunately for you, I’m not that stupid.
“Holy shit,” I said, heart thundering in my chest. “Nate, I just got—”
My words dried up in my throat as I looked up at Nate, who was standing by the driver’s side of the car, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.
A dark figure was rising up behind the silver car that was parked next to us.
An icy splash of fear snatched the air from my lungs. “Nate!” I managed to choke out. “Behind you!”
Before Nate could turn around, the masked stranger rushed toward him and jammed a hypodermic needle in his neck. I screamed at the top of my lungs, eyes bulging with terror as Nate swayed on the spot before collapsing onto his knees.
Another piercing scream rose in my throat, and I turned and dashed toward the Devil’s Playhouse. I could see people spilling out from the main entrance. If I managed to get close enough, they’d be able to hear me screaming and see me wildly flailing my arms. They’d be able to help.
I only made it a few yards before the stranger caught up with me. He clamped a gloved hand over my mouth, silencing my panicked shrieks. At the same time, his other hand held another hypodermic needle perilously close to my throat.
I moaned into his leather glove, struggling against his grip, but it didn’t help. The needle came down, stinging my neck as it punctured the skin there, and a sense of great weariness washed over me right away. The dark parking lot began to spin around me. Then my knees buckled.
The last thing I saw before my eyes closed was the Butcher’s gold tragedy mask, hovering somewhere above me. Then I slipped into a big, black pool of nothingness and let the darkness drag me down.
