Page 42 of Cruel Dreams

She looks over at us, her eyes bright. “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you to get back here. A friend of mine overheard some shit, and she’s willing to tell us what she knows about what’s going to happen tomorrow night. We have to hurry before she changes her mind. Let’s go.”

Excitement sparks through me. We hoped we’d learn something from Nathalie’s connections at the club.

She lays two one hundred dollar bills on the table. The waitress must be one of Nathalie’s friends, too, because the Cosmos weren’t worththatmuch.

Every man in a twenty-foot radius watches her slide elegantly off her chair, and we follow as she weaves around the tables to a door behind the bar. The bartender’s too busy filling drink orders to pay any attention to us.

“Her name’s Donna,” Nathalie says, her heels clicking against the white tile. “She’s putting a lot on the line to help us.”

This is where Quinn and I should have looked. Nathalie’s leading us to the administrative offices where the books are kept and business deals are done. I would have gotten more poking around back here than trying to find a dancer to talk to, but I also would have stuck out like blood on Nathalie’s dress. It’s obvious we don’t belong, especially at this time of night, though we’re not alone in the corridor. A club like this is staffed twenty-four hours a day.

She stops at an unmarked door and raps her knuckles against it.

Donna must do paperwork for Ladies and Gentlemen, or she’s one of Ash’s secretaries. In the years I worked for Ash, I never heard of her. Maybe he turns over his office staff as often as his other girls.

The door swings open, and the room is pitch black inside.

I hesitate, and Quinn waits behind me.

“It’s okay. She’s just being careful. You know what Ash will do to her if he finds out she’s a snitch,” Nathalie says, nudging my shoulder.

Tentatively, I step into the room, and Quinn’s so close to me her breasts brush my back.

The door slams shut, and we’re left in complete darkness.

For a moment, I think we’re alone in the room, but a hand clamps over my mouth and nose stifling a scream. I can’t breathe.

I struggle against the man holding me, grappling at his arm, and I feel Quinn doing the same. Whoever grabbed her better watch out. She fights harder and dirtier than me.

Heavy hands fumble at my breasts, and I kick at whoever’s trying to touch me. “Cool it,” he growls. “I got my own woman.” He pulls the camera disk off my dress, and I hear the plastic snap into pieces. There’s a second snap near my ear, and Nathalie mutters, “Thank God that’s over.”

The lights flicker on, and I blink against the sudden glare. One of the burly bouncers who guarded the club’s front doors holds me tightly against his chest, his arm wrapped around my stomach. He loosens his hand that’s covering my mouth, and gratefully, I attempt to drag in a breath.

“Hello, Stella.”

Quinn still fights next to me, yelling obscenities beneath Spike’s hand. No wonder the bouncers let us into the club. Nathalie had this planned all along.

Ash stands behind a desk wearing an expensive black suit. His dark red tie matches Quinn’s dress. “I knew you weren’t dead,” he continues, “but after this, you’ll wish you were.”

Nathalie digs her cell phone out of her purse and connects a call. Zane immediately answers, and she says, “We’re okay. There’s nothing to worry about.” His low voice rumbles through her phone, but I can’t hear what he says. “Yes, we’re fine. Mel doesn’t have to freak out. My source got scared and bailed, and we took the cameras off. There’s nothing else to see. We were invited to a party and won’t need them.”

I try to scream, but Ash’s goon tightens his hand pressed over my mouth, and I sound like I’m humming. Zane will never hear it. Slowly, my mind catches up with what my heart already knew—Nathalie and Ash have been working together from the beginning. She’s never been on our side. She’s been playing Zane, leading him on, letting him think she was helping us, when really, she’s been faithful to Ash this whole time.

Zane says something and Nathalie responds, “No, but we’re hoping at the party...” She pauses, listening, and then says,“I’ll take care of her, Zane. I know how much you love her.” She disconnects the call.

Spike’s friend loosens his grip again but doesn’t release me.

We’re in deep shit, and I swallow hard. Zane has no idea Nathalie’s a traitor, and now he thinks we’re off to a party. I’ll be dead before he thinks something’s wrong.

“You look good as a redhead,” Ash says, stepping across the office toward me. He brushes a finger down my cheek, and I flinch. “I should have had my guy aim at your head, but I didn’t like the thought of brains all over thefucking sidewalk. I do have more class than that, no matter what you might think of me. I didn’t consider a bulletproof vest. You almost got me, but I’m not stupid. I checked the morgue, and the body that had your name on it was not you. I might not have bothered, but had you really been dead, oh, I know Zane, Stella. We’ve been friends our whole lives, and no matter what he said, I know he never stopped loving you. He would have given you the biggest goddamned memorial service money can buy. When he didn’t, I knew he still had you in flesh and blood.”

The bouncer drops his hand, and I ask, “What are you going to do with us?”

“You want answers, I’ll give you answers. Since you’re so interested in what happens to the fucking strippers and girls who no longer pad my bank accounts, I’ll show you, because Stella, you have certainly overstayed your welcome in King’s Crossing. You’re going to disappear once and for all and if I can make an extra buck, that will be a bonus. Get rid of their purses and cells and bring them out back.”

Ash’s thug rubs me down, searching for a purse or a pocket in my dress where I could put a phone. I didn’t carry a purse or my cell—Quinn stored both of our IDs in hers. Spike snaps the strap, yanking it off her, and she howls in outrage and pain.

My heels snag the carpet as I try to fight off the bouncer pushing me out the door.

---