Page 75 of Fortress of the King

RAYNE

When I wake up,he’s long gone. Only the creases in the pillow are any indication he was even here, well, that and his masculine scent still lingering.

I’m sure he’s all too used to slipping away in the wee hours, never to return. An occupational habit, I’m sure.

When I finally roll out of bed, it’s to go in search of aspirin because I have a Mariachi band playing in the back of my head.

I made a decision last night; when I was soaking in the tub consoling myself with wine, it came to me.

I’m like a cat on hot bricks because if Mia’s captors find out what I’m planning, this could be very bad, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t just sit around like a damn victim and let them control me and hurt my sister. I mean, what are the chances these bastards are really going to let her go after I get whatever information I can on Angelo, and realistically, what else can I possibly get on him? The process is slow. Sure, I know he’s probably going to invite me to the ball, but then what? His place is like Fort Knox, it isn’t like he’s going to let me anywhere near his Fortress or the warehouse he’s rumored to have, and I fear, pretty soon, they’re going to realize that too. I have to take matters into my own hands.

I ventured to a shady part of the city that evening, walking into a downtown bar and asking around for a private investigator. It’s the only thing I can think of to do. At least if I know where Mia’s being held, I may be able to hatch a plan. I don't know what, but I feel like a sitting duck. Sitting ducks get nowhere. Sitting ducks end up dead.

Don’t slip away from me, Mia. I’m coming…

This city is full of stinking sewer rats and I have to think like one of them.

I take a cab to the same neighborhood. I figure Sunday might be a little less crowded.

I meet him at a bar in a suspect part of town. Since I couldn’t be sure I was not being followed, I took the subway, then two different buses to get here. I’ll get a cab home since there’s no way I’m doing that again.

I wear as best a disguise I can without looking like a complete weirdo. I glance at my phone and check the time. Nine o’clock.

Dirty Habits Saloon, at least the name is fitting.

It’s one of those places that makes you want to disinfect yourself the minute you step inside. I don’t even want to drink from the glass that I’m presented with after I order a glass of wine, and the man pours it from a cask. I sit at one of the tables in the better-lit area of the bar. There’s no need to tempt fate.

My phone chimes as soon as I sit down.

He’s here.

The only reason I haven’t gone to a reputable P.I. is the fact that since Angelo owns most of the high-profile politicians and police, I don’t know who I can trust. Nobody here will know me. Not that I intend on giving him any information other than the fact my sister is missing and I’m trying to find her. Surely, they have access to security footage from when they snatched her outside of her work. There has to be some trace, and I’m going to find it.

A few moments later, the chair next to me moves, and the man I’m paying an astronomical amount of money to help sits next to me…he’s… not what I expected.

For one, he’s a little too smartly dressed to be in this place. If we were trying to look inconspicuous, then we both failed. He’s handsome, a little older than me, with short blonde, trimmed hair and attractive features. He’s wide-set and appears more like a bouncer than a P.I. He has piercing, almost bronze-colored eyes and a dark, heavy-set brow.

“Jessica?” he says, his voice quiet.

Yes, I gave a fake name.

I nod. “Hello, Mr. Russo.”

He glances around, a frown on his face. “I understand you need my help?”

I nod. “I’ll cut to the chase. I’ve reason to believe that my sister’s in trouble —” I mean,do I just blurt it out?I guess it’s best to get straight to the point. “Which is why I’m here, in this charming place.”

His lips twitch. “Nobody here talks, which is why it’s the best place to not be seen or heard, which is what you said you wanted.”

It’s a real slice of Americana and I want to be out of here.

“I don’t know who else to turn to,” I admit, unsure if I can fully trust him despite his credentials.

As if reading my mind, he gives me a chin lift. “Whatever you say to me is held in the strictest confidence, but if you want my help, I will need your sister’s name and some details about her, where she lives, works, where she was seen last, that kind of thing. Any small thing you can think of can be of help.”

I close my eyes momentarily and breathe deeply. “How does this work?”

“I get the 5k now, and the rest when I find her.”

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