I pull in next to a covered car, knowing that underneath is a four-door sedan that looks like a million others on the road. That’s the point. I want us to look like any other car that might be out right now, and as ‘un-Shane-like’ as I can get.
Grabbing her backpack from the floor, I rifle through and grab her cellphone, leaning forward to drop it to the floorboard. I do the same with mine and then grab a duffle bag from behind the seat. “Okay, when I say go, open your door calmly, get out, and get in the car next to you. I’m doing the same.”
“What about our phones?” she asks, reaching forward. “Why did you put them in the floorboard? I need that.”
I place a hand on her forearm, the touch electric as I feel the tremble of her muscles underneath my fingertips. “Nope. They’re traceable, like my truck, and we’ve got to be ghosts until we figure out what’s going on.”
She sputters, looking at me with renewed fear in her eyes. “Traceable? Ghosts? What the heck are you talking about?”
“Go,” I order. “There’s time for answers later. I promise you that, but for now . . . go.”
I open my door, snatching the corner of the dust cover on the sedan and pulling it back, revealing a ten-year-old Ford before grabbing the spare key from the magnetic box hidden in the rear wheel well and climbing into the driver’s seat. I hit the unlock button, relieved when Meghan opens her door and buckles up, her eyes full of questions, but she keeps her silence as I start up the Ford.
Thank fuck.
With a turn of the key, we’re back on the road, heading way out of East Robinsville. As we drive, the reality of the situation hits me.
Fuck. This has gone so damn sideways.
How much do I tell Meghan? There are secrets piled on top of secrets around her, and the layers go so deep that sometimes even I don’t quite remember which way is up.
How much does she already know? It’s common knowledge not to cross Dominick, but just how much does she understand?
She’s quiet in the seat next to me, scanning around us occasionally but mostly watching the scenery blur by, but I know her silence won’t last long. She’s just too curious.
“Your truck?” she says after a bit, and I shrug. “What’s that mean?”
“I mean that if it gets stolen, it gets stolen,” I reply. “That lot’s pretty out of the way. Decent chance it might be unnoticed.”
“And this thing?”
“Just an old car. I promise to explain. Just wait a bit longer.”
My answer silences her for a bit, and it’s almost dawn when we pull over at a no-tell motel in the middle of nowhere. I know where half a dozen of these places are around the area, places that are desperate enough to take cash without too many questions but not so rundown as to become crack houses that’ll attract the attention of the police.
I run inside and rent a room under a fake name, paying cash before parking and shepherding Meghan inside. Closing the door behind us, I lock it and peek out the window. We’re clear.
But as I look back to see Meghan perched on the edge of the bed, so tiny but her eyes sparking with anger, I know the grace period of time I asked for is over. Hell, considering the worn-out carpet, dingy walls, and patched bed cover, I’d be pissed too, even if I was clueless about the rest.
“Okay,” I start before she can say anything. “Where do we start?”
Chapter 11
Maggie
I stare at Shane, who’s looking for the first time since I’ve met him less than a hundred percent sure of himself. If anything, he looks frightened, which scares the schnitzel out of me. “Okay, so we’re wherever this is,” I start.
I look around us, my nose upturned at the dingy motel room, noting the large crawly thing underneath the table in the corner and reminding myself not to go to sleep without covering every pore of my skin. “And seemingly safe-ish, wildlife notwithstanding. Now what the frick is going on? Why aren’t we at the police station reporting a murder? Shane!”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, and steps away from the door to sit down on the edge of the bed, still watching me with those eyes of his. “No matter how I spin this, you’re likely to freak the fuck out, but you’re in the middle of it now, so I’ll dive in as delicately as I can.”
I nod, just wanting him to tell me already. “Delicate, not delicate. Just get to the truth, Shane. I’m not following you one more step without it.”
He nods and strokes his chin. “Deal. So, do you know who that was back at the club?”
I shake my head, turning to face him and criss-cross applesauceing my legs between us, needing the space to keep a clear head for this conversation. “The suit or the shooter?”
He eyes sharpen, and he sits forward, his voice immediately hardening. “Either.”
I shrug, refusing to break his gaze as I stare back at his face, making sure he understands me clearly. “No idea. The suit was drinking Maclellan in my section for a bit, the expensive stuff, and he took Allie back for a lap dance. I took the scotch in and Allie was picking music in the corner. She gave me a thumbs-up, and I silently wished her luck.”
“And the other guy?”
I take a deep breath, hating the fact that I have to try and relive those few moments but somehow knowing that it’s important. “I saw him coming down the hallway. That guy chilled me just with this . . . I don’t know . . . aura. Next thing I know, big man was shooting up the place and Allie is screaming bloody murder. You were there for the rest.”
He nods, letting that sink in. “Okay, the shooter is a hired gun. Hitman. Assassin. Maybe if you tell me more, I might be able to tell you who he was. The list of men with the skills and either the guts or insanity to make a hit inside Petals is pretty small. The suit was Carlos Rivaldi, bastard son of Sal Rivaldi. Names mean anything to you?”
I shake my head, and he scoffs lightly, smiling a little. “So fucking innocent. Let’s rewind. Meghan, you know Petals is a money laundering front for the mob and Dominick is The Boss, right?”
I squint, making sure I heard right. “Wait, Boss? Money laundering?”
Shane nods. “Boss. As in, Boss of the Angeline family.”
I shake my head vehemently, but after a moment, my brain whirls. I think back to some of the customers, the business meetings in Dominick’s office, and the large security team that has always made me feel safe. Petals is a small club. There should be no reason they always have three and sometimes four guys working security. I thought it was because of the clientele, a sense of fancy-schmancy to make the celebs feel like VIPs.
I gasp, looking at Shane. I knew Dominick was a shrewd businessman, but the level of what I’ve walked into . . . did my former boss, Donnie, know when he came up with this idea for me to work undercover? Does Jeanine know? Do they even care that I’m covering stupid celeb gossip in a freaking mob club? Oh, my God, everything I’ve been doing suddenly seems so much more dangerous. My reporter senses felt like there was more to Petals, but something like this never even occurred to me. How could it have? It’s crazy. “Dominick is The Boss? Holy frack. But . . .” My words stutter, another thought jumping forward. “Oh, no! Allie!”
Shane shakes his head. “Allie is fine. She’s Dominick’s. Well, she isn’t, but she might as well be by the way he looks at her and I suspect feels about her. He wouldn’t touch a hair on her head unless she directly betrayed him. That’s why I’m confused.”
“Confused about what?” I ask, the reporter in my head pushing back the fear. It’s not hard. Right now, I’m pretty sure that information means life, and Shane’s about my only source of more information.