Page 9 of Sin City Obsession

“Might as well start here. I’ll text the nerds to get the rest.” He was already swinging into a parking lot that looked like a small, run-down shopping center. The building itself was just a single strip of architecture, not even L-shaped, and only four logos identified the separation of the interior spaces.

Alessa waited until the SUV was parked before asking, “Care to tell me which name we’re paying a visit to?”

“Top of page two,” Ignazio replied.

She swept her thumb over the screen on her phone and bit down on her cheek. No one was thrilled with this job, she supposed. And maybe Ignazio just wasn’t that charming. So she memorized the name, locked her phone, and stepped in synch with him from the SUV. It was unlikely she would have the luck of striking gold on her first try. This one would be as much a learning experience for how well she could work with her assigned partner as it would anything else.

She led the way into the small corner shop Ignazio indicated, walked right past the early morning line, and leaned over the counter. “I need a word with your boss. Now.”

The woman at the desk gaped at her, going pale, and held up her hands in a show of surrender. “I-I don’t have access to the safe!”

Alessa narrowed her eyes. “Did Iaskfor the safe?”

Someone in a rent-a-cop security uniform stepped into her periphery, puffing out his doughy chest and resting a hand on his belt. The gesture was probably meant to be intimidating,but only served to emphasize the lack of a real gun in his holster. “There a problem?”

Alessa shifted her gaze to him. “Yeah. I have business with Mr. Murphy.”

“You can’t cut the line, lady!” one of the male customers snapped.

Alessa rolled her eyes, swept her middle finger in the grumbling male’s general direction, and shifted her focus back to the employee. “Look, I’m not here to rob you. I have some very urgent business pertaining to a loan Murphy already negotiated. He’s going to want to talk to me.” It was a bluff, of course. Unless she was supremely lucky. But she didn’t give a shit if she had to lie a little to get her way.

It would be much easier, ultimately, than having to shoot her way inside. Particularly since this wasn’t Newark and she didn’t know how well she could rely on the local cleaners.

The blonde woman’s eyes widened. “O-oh, um…” She glanced at something on her desk and swallowed hard. “Mr. Murphy’s not in yet,” she said, quieter.

Alessa arched a brow. “Really? You don’t have access to the cash on-hand, yet you’re open for business, but your boss isn’t in?”

The woman’s face drained of all regained color.

Yep. Thought so.Alessa straightened. “Fine. If his money means so little to him, I guess me and all these witnesses get free hand-outs, then. Thanks for the gift.” She turned, fully willing to stride out the door.

Of course, the woman at the desk came to her senses first. “W-wait! He might have— That is, sometimesMr. Murphy comes in through the back and doesn’t text me. He could be here. I-I’ll check!”

Uh-huh. Sure he does.Alessa obligingly adjusted to face the desk again, cocking her hip and folding her arms across her chest. “You do that.” The woman was probably only following orders, but Alessa’s sympathy was low. The least either of these idiots could do was come up with a believable story that didn’t fall apart the moment someone asked a second question.

Rent-a-Cop shuffled his weight as the desk manager disappeared into the back.

Ignazio moved to lean against the far wall, effectively framing the other man between them.

A couple of the waiting customers began to murmur, but no one spoke out again. No one launched into a fit or drew a weapon. And then the same woman emerged from the back, still looking flustered, and stepped up to stand beside her waiting chair. She met Alessa’s stare with visible hesitation. “Mr. Murphy will see you.”

Alessa lifted her lips in a fake smile, dropped her arms to her sides, and strode forward. She made no move to open the partition, forcing Rent-a-Cop to let her in, and followed him down the hall behind the Employees Only door. Ignazio fell in behind her before the door could swing shut.

The visibly uncomfortable security guard narrowed his bushy brow at her when they reached the marked office door. “I’ll be right outside. Don’t try anything funny.”

“Like I said,” Alessa replied, keeping her tone calm, “this is business.” She didn’t bother articulating that she was about as afraid of him and his taser as she was of mice—which was tosay, not at all. Instead, she let Ignazio get the door and dipped a hand into her pocket for her phone.

The registered business owner, Murphy, was staring across the room in their direction when she stepped inside. He was already settled behind his desk, of course, and the open laptop and crumbs in front of him suggested he’d been there for more than a few minutes. Not that Alessa had bought the story to begin with. He squared his shoulders, the overhead light reflecting off his bifocals, and demanded, “Who the hell are you? I don’t remember doing business with you.”

The door clicked behind her and Alessa moved forward. She drew up Wesley Richardson’s picture first, as he was the one their mystery target was supposedly after, and held her phone out close enough for Murphy to see. “Do you recognize this man?”

Murphy’s brow furrowed. “What the hell is this?”

“Answer the question, Murphy. You don’t want me making assumptions.” She kept her voice firm, but in her gut she didn’t believe she was in the right place. Still, no stone unturned and all that.

Murphy was silent for several long seconds, supposedly scrutinizing the photo. “There’s nothing much remarkable about him. He looks like every other desperate, pompous jackass who comes in here. Why?”

“That’s not an answer.”

---