Page 21 of Savage Hunter

“Look man, don’t know. Don’t care. I haven’t seen the bit—.”

Wrong answer.

My gun is out, and at his throat before he can finish his sentence. “Take your time. Her name is Harmonia Primrose. I’ve asked around. A lot. Someone pointed me to this city and specifically this place. It’s after midnight, I’m tired. Hungry. I’ve been hunting her down for months. Someone has to know something.”

His throat works what I imagine is a tight swallow. “All this is above my pay grade.”

“Maybe management can help,” I offer and he nods.

“I can do that. You want to open the doors for me and I’ll get out of your hair.” I wink at him but keep my gun in hand. He’s not stupid enough to try to take it from me.

“Take him down to see the boss.”

He shows me through the door at his back and a couple of his buddies lead me to a set of elevators. I go in first and let the two night guards in black suits and gruff expressions take the front as the doors close.

One of them hits B3 and a few seconds later I’m standing in the middle of an orgy. Women and men cover every available space.

Three women wearing nothing but collars around their throats and pleasure on their faces pull at my hands and start tugging at my jacket.

“Some other time, ladies.” I push them into the arms of other men and they gladly go. Their pupils are dilated and the carefree way they let anyone and everyone taste their bodies is a turn on for some. For me, it makes me want to find Harmonia faster.

Music sets a rhythmic tempo, and they all seem to be under its spell.

I walk past them and follow the two guards to a small area cut off from the main even by a thin partition.

“Boss, someone here to see you. Says he’s looking for a girl.”

Silence.

I put my gun away and step into the room before they have invited me in. “I won’t take up much of your time.”

Calculating eyes sum me up quickly. “You’re impatient.”

I don’t comment. He’s not wrong. I get that there’s an order to the power structure inside crime families. I simply don’t give a shit. The room is deeper than it is wider. Slate gray walls, black leather furniture and a large black desk make up the entire space. No plants. No photographs. There are a couple of lamps here and there. It smells of polish, whiskey and cigar smoke.

I find a man nearing his forties dressed in a three-piece suit with a stack of papers on one side of his desk and his gun on the other. He presses his lips together and exhales through his nose in a sign of irritation.

“I don’t have time for this. I’m due downstairs in ten minutes.”

“Less than thirty seconds and then I’ll be on my way.” The older man is about my size, but he has more signs of age around the eyes. Crime pays, but it takes a pound of flesh and a toll on the body.

The man across from me takes in my polished shoes, slacks and the gray cashmere I have on under my suit jacket.

I’m a hired gun, but I know how to dress like I’m a powerhouse billionaire.

In the same glance, he also notices the bulges under my arms. Whatever he sees seems to answer a question I’m not aware of because he nods his head and gestures for me to come closer.

“Good, thirty seconds is about all I have.”

Anyone who enters Chicago knows the man. He has power, status among the dark and deprived and doesn’t have to work at looking calm under pressure. It comes naturally to him. He likes control and respect. He expects people to fall in line when he speaks. I can respect a man who knows his place in society. Because of this, he’s not nearly as worried as he should be if I find Harmonia within his walls.

I pull out my phone. “Have you seen this woman?”

“No.” He’s not rude nor dismissive in his tone. Just blunt. I can appreciate that.

I draw in a deep breath through my nose and let it out. This shit is getting old.

“But I recognize those eyes and the cut of her heart-shaped face. She’s a Primrose.”

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