Page 17 of Chill’s Chance

He doesn’t seem to notice me and after we’re several blocks away from the casino; he stops glancing around as often, his focus on his destination. We pass by several casinos and restaurants. He doesn’t glance at any of them until we approach a Starbucks a few blocks away from 1%. He takes another glance around him, but I luck out because I doubt he can see me. I’m standing behind three guys who hide me. They’re tall, thin and loud. I see my target’s eyes pass over them and keep going. When he turns back, he slips inside.

I wait for another person to enter before following. He’s at the counter placing his order so I pretend to check my phone as I watch his actions. He glances over at a corner table where a woman sits alone. Taking a chance, I slide my phone into my pocket with the camera pointing out. I shift my body until the camera is pointing in her direction and I click the button. I shuffle up and place my order, taking out my phone to check if the image came out clear enough. Happy to see I have a perfect shot of her face.

Grabbing my latte, I thank my good fortune when the person sitting at the table nearest the couple leaves. Taking a seat so that my back is to his and I can hear their discussion. Sliding my phone onto the table, I set it to record before sitting back to enjoy my coffee.

“Any luck.” The woman asks.

“No. And I don’t think I’ll have any. I’m certain they suspect me.” He says. “They moved me to a new room, like I told you.”

“Any bugs?”

“No. I scanned the room after I settled in and I scanned it again after the maid cleaned the room. Nothing. But I still feel like I’m being watched.”

“Did anyone follow you?” She asks. Her voice is rough and reminds me of a heavy duty smoker.

“No. Not that I saw. I’ve only seen their SOA today. She’s been in her office working.”

I frown at that comment. How does he know Chill’s actions?

“Have you been able to make any progress at all, Pence?” The woman presses. “I know they’re dealing drugs out of that casino. Maybe they didn’t buy your story.”

“Maybe. I know they did a background check on me. The ID held up as I knew it would. If they’re dealing, they’re careful about who they sell to. I’ve tried everyone from the concierge to the maid, but no one has taken a bite. Although the valet offered to send me to a bar down the strip where I might find a seller. Are you sure they’re dealing?”

“They’re dealing.” She says with conviction and I wonder what she has on the Demon Dawgs to make her so certain.

“I have seen no signs of it. How can you be so sure?” Pence asks.

“Insider information. If you can’t make headway as a buyer, then get into their deliveries. Supposedly, they shift between delivery trucks to hide the product. I just need the proof and then we can take them down.”

“It sounds personal.” He says, mimicking my thoughts.

“It is. I’ll do whatever I have to do to take Puma and his club down.” She says. “In fact, take this.”

I want to turn and see what she’s giving him, but I don’t. Instead, I glance at the window and study their reflection. Whatever it is, is in a gift box, complete with a ribbon.

“What is it?” He finally asks.

“Something to get us in the door. Now get going.” She says. “What’s your problem?” She asks when he doesn’t move.

“Is this what I think it is?” He asks, his voice cold and angry.

“Yes. And if you have any ideas of turning on me, just remember I’ll destroy you.”

“This won’t end well.” He says, rising and leaving.

I give him a few minutes and I’m glad I do when her phone rings.

“He’s got the product, and he’s taking it back to the hotel. This will work. If he gets caught, he can’t tie it to me. I’ll bury him. Puma is a dead man. I told you I’d make it happen. Trust me.”

I’ve heard and recorded enough. Getting up, I dump my empty cup in the waste bin before leaving. I glance at the woman and see a smug grin on her face as she stares out the window. Bitch.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: CHILL

While waiting for Hunter’s return, I finish off some paperwork. Stopping when my office phone buzzes. I glance over and see Shea, the hotel manager, on the display.

“Shea.” I answer.

“Oh, Ms. Forrester, good. I feel like I haven’t talked with you in months. So glad to hear your voice, hey I have a favor to ask of you.” Shea says in an overly cheerful voice. She knows I don’t do cheery. I also just spoke to her an hour ago and she only ever calls me Chill.

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