The woman—with dark red hair and pale skin—didn’t look reassured.
Chloe began hurrying down the hallway. Joel followed right behind her. When they stepped outside, the bright sun glinted off their parked ride.
“We should go to Lucia’s house.” He was trying to work through angles. Options. “Search there and see what could possibly have led her to kill her stepfather.” And slice the bastard so many times.
Chloe stopped next to the SUV. She slowly turned to face him. “We could,” she agreed. “But I suspect her home is being searched by the cops, and though I do have a warm and positive relationship with Cedric, the rest of the PD doesn’t always share his enthusiasm for me. So it’s doubtful they will let us inside. We’ll have to wait and break in later.”
Right. Like breaking into a dead woman’s house was a done deal. In Chloe’s mind, though, it obviously was. “I’m guessing you have a better option?”
“Joel, we don’t guess, remember?”
She didn’t. He did. All the fucking time.
“But, yes, I do have a better option.”
“Then do not keep me in suspense.”
She smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He wasn’t so sure he believed her.
“I’ve seen Lucia dance before. She was amazingly talented, by the way. She could move her body in so many ways, always perfectly matching the beat of the music.” Chloe sounded admiring. “She was quite something to see.” With a nod, she headed for the driver’s side of the vehicle.
Looked like he’d be shotgun this time. She had snagged the keys before they’d gone inside to see the body.
Joel hopped into the passenger seat. Turned to study her as suspicion churned. “Just where did you see her dance?”
“Now you’re catching on.” She cranked the engine. “She wasn’t just into ballet, and when she wanted to make money, Lucia knew exactly where to go.”
His eyes narrowed on her profile. “Just how much do you already know about Lucia?”
“Not enough. But I know someone who is going to be able to tell us a great deal more.”
“I don’t like this, Chloe.” The bad feeling he had was getting worse with every single moment that passed.
“Yes, well…” Her fingers did a light tap around the wheel. “You’ll like it even less when you realize where we are going.”
“Spit it out already,” he groused.
She slanted a quick glance at him. “I could always go to see him on my own. He’d probably talk more freely if it was just me.”
His stomach knotted. “Not happening.”
“Right. Then I guess we’re heading to the Serpent. We’d better hurry. Kingston usually leaves by eight a.m. to go home and sleep.”
The Serpent. Fuck. The bar that was a criminal front?
Perfect.
***
The snake wasn’t dancing. Joel exited the vehicle and stared up at the image of the snake high on the side of the two-story building. At night, the snake was illuminated, and it seemed to sway back and forth as its long, forked tongue shot out. There was no other signage on the building. Just the snake.
And the snake wasn’t dancing right then. Its tongue didn’t flicker.
They were at one of the major hotspots in the city. The Serpent. A place Joel hadn’t even known existed, not until he’d stepped into Chloe’s world. The rich and overindulged headed into the club to party, and in the VIP rooms, games were played. Bets were waged. People traded jewelry. Homes. Probably drugs. Hell, Joel suspected they traded everything in those upstairs VIP rooms. Once upon a time, Chloe had gotten him in one of those private games. They’d been tracking a killer.
When they’d left, Joel had realized how very dangerous Kingston Broussard, the club’s owner, truly was. Not only was he tied to all the major crimes in the city, but the SOB seemed far too personally interested in Chloe.
“We’re in luck. Kingston just walked out of the club.”
His head jerked to the left. Chloe was right. Kingston, “King,” was ducking out of the club’s front entrance. He was wearing a white dress shirt that he’d rolled up to his elbows, and the collar was undone. He had his black coat slung over one shoulder, and he still wore his matching black pants and some shiny-ass shoes. He was flanked by two big, hulking guys that Joel immediately pegged as bodyguards.
“Kingston!” Chloe called.
The bodyguards sprang into action. They immediately whirled toward Chloe and those sonsofbitches pulled their guns.
Joel grabbed Chloe and shoved her behind him. He put his body in front of her, and he got ready to—
“Fire a bullet, and I will end you,” King’s voice was low and lethal. As lethal as his threat. It was a threat Joel believed the other man was fully capable of carrying out. “That is my personal friend, and you will not ever point a weapon at her again, do you understand me?”
The men quickly lowered the weapons.
“Although…” Now King’s voice was considering. “The man with her isn’t my friend. So if you see him without her…do what you will to him.”
Joel glared at the bastard.
King smiled back at him.
The bodyguards were edging back toward King—and the waiting, black limo that idled near the curb.
“We need to talk!” Chloe announced. She didn’t seem even mildly upset about the fact that she’d almost been gunned down by two trigger-happy bodyguards.
Joel was upset. Fucking furious, in fact.
Chloe tried to hurry past him. Joel threw out one hand and chained her wrist. He tugged her back to his side. “No,” he said simply. Because there wasn’t anything else to say.
No, she wasn’t going to run toward the men with guns.
No, she wasn’t going to put herself at risk.
And, hell, no, he wasn’t going to let those bastards get away with nearly shooting her. He studied them carefully, making sure he would never forget their faces.
“Chloe, as much fun as this odd encounter is,” King was at the limo’s open door, “it’s been an incredibly long night, and I need to go crash. Be a sweetheart and come back tonight, would you? I’ll get Wedge to let you right inside. You can come up to the VIP room and spend some quality time with me.”
“In your freaking dreams,” Joel snapped.
“Yes. Frequently.”
Joel surged toward him.
“Stop it.” Now Chloe was the one who blocked him. “You know he’s just antagonizing you.”
“I just want to kick his ass.” Was that so wrong? The guy had rubbed him the wrong way from the very first moment.
King’s laugh rang out. “He is adorable, Chloe. Now I see why you keep him around.”
She whirled for King. “Lucia Rossi.”
He stopped laughing.
“We need to talk,” she repeated. “Now.”
King’s gaze darted around the street. “I’m not talking in public.” He motioned to the limo. “Let’s go for a ride.”
“He sweeps his limo for listening devices,” Chloe whispered. “He’ll feel comfortable there. We need to get in.”
“Oh, yes, sure. Because we want him to feel comfortable.” Let’s let the criminal mastermind feel comfortable, by all means. Chloe had once told Joel that King was actually working undercover, some bit about being more FBI, not NOPD. But every time Joel was around him, the man just seemed more and more like the worst kind of trouble.