Midnight Alias

by Elle Kennedy

  Things were changing. She was opening her heart to him, he could feel it. These last couple of days, she’d made an effort to reach out to him, and it made his fucking heart sing. He’d never enjoyed the dominant way he treated her, but Olivia was too strong-willed for her own good. Sometimes the only way to keep the strong ones in line was with a solid backhand. Didn’t mean he liked hitting her, though. Violence was reserved for your mistress, not your wife, and he had every intention of making Olivia Taylor the latter.

  Truth was, he was tired of trashy women. Before he’d met Olivia, he’d dated strippers or groupies looking to become Mafia wives, women who cracked their gum and teased their hair and expected him to lavish them with gifts. Olivia didn’t expect or ask for anything, which in turn made him eager to please her. Nevertheless, it was about time she started thinking about pleasing him.

  Remembering that he still needed to grab the club’s monthly earnings report to show to De Luca, he left his office and headed for the door leading to the back rooms. He’d just slid through it when his cell rang. A glance at the caller ID had him rolling his eyes. Erik Franz. A stupid name in Vince’s opinion, but the man it belonged to didn’t seem to mind it.

  Vince barked out a response. “Have we taken care of our problem yet?” He entered the file room and flicked the light switch.

  The beat of hesitation told him the answer. “We had to move him.”

  “Move him where?” Vince snapped as he marched toward a tall filing cabinet across the room. “And why?”

  “The boss had other uses for the warehouse.”

  Vince clenched his teeth. “Why am I only finding out about this now?”

  “I just found out myself. But don’t worry—the new location is secure.”

  “Give me the address.”

  As Franz rattled off the info, Vince extracted a monogrammed fountain pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, then rummaged around on the table next to the cabinet for a notepad. He scribbled down the address, ripped the paper from the pad and shoved it in his pocket.

  “The truck’s showing up Tuesday night,” he reminded his associate. “So this needs to happen then. The body will provide a nice distraction for the DEA and keep them busy while we slip the shipment in under their noses.”

  “They’ll be distracted,” came the reassuring reply. “We’ll keep him alive for a few more days, and then come Tuesday, an anonymous tip hits their switchboard.” Franz chuckled. “They’ll be relieved to get Dane back—even if it’s in a body bag.”

  * * *

  Vince’s Town Car wasn’t in its designated parking space when Olivia arrived at the club. Good. So he’d stuck to his weekly schedule, which meant he wouldn’t show up here until at least midnight. That’s when he normally wrapped up his “investor” meeting.

  A part of her wished she hadn’t asked Luke about Vince’s criminal dealings. She’d known he was involved in shady activities, but last night’s phone call had been an eye-opener. Drugs, money laundering, the Five Families. Those were things you saw in movies, not real life, and now that her eyes were open, she wished she could just slam them shut again.

  The lowlifes she’d seen being hauled out of Vince’s office bloody and beaten were drug dealers. Those mysterious rooms up on the second floor were probably where Vince and his goons stored the drugs they distributed. And the girls—Cora . . . Heaven . . . the countless others who walked around with needle marks on their arms—Vince had probably given them the drugs himself. Hooked them. Turned them into zombies so he could pimp them out to important clients.

  It made her sick. And angry. God, she was angry, not just at Vince but at herself too, for foolishly putting herself in this position. If she’d never applied for a job at the Diamond Mine, she never would have met Vince. She never would have been assaulted in that alley. And she wouldn’t owe that man a damn thing now.

  Olivia got out of the BMW and headed inside, wishing like hell she could just turn around and drive far, far away. But she’d promised Luke she would dig around, and if she wanted his assistance, she had to follow through.

  And now that she’d given it more thought, it was almost better that Luke and his men were private contractors. That meant he could help her pull off a good old disappearing act. No official channels or witness protection or anything that would leave a trail. If Luke had the kind of connections she suspected he did, she and her mom would be able to start a new life somewhere Vince Angelo would never find them.

  But first things first. Dig.

  She kept to a relaxed pace as she headed down the rear corridor toward the dressing room. Luke had texted her during the drive over—three words: We’re all set. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she hadn’t wanted to text back, especially since he’d mentioned something about getting her a secure phone. But how? Was he just going to drop by and slide a cell phone into her G-string?

  When she opened her locker and spotted a black backpack on the bottom shelf, she realized that Luke Dubois was far more resourceful than she’d given him credit for. The bag didn’t belong to her, but she immediately knew where it had come from.

  Shooting a surreptitious look around the crowded room, she bent down and unzipped the backpack. It contained a few items of clothing, a pair of jeans, some tank tops, a cardboard tampon box—nice touch, she had to admit—and a bag of Doritos. She shoved her hand deeper, rummaging around the base of the bag until she connected with something hard and slender. Without daring to turn around, she fished out the cell phone, startled to find it was the exact model and color as her own BlackBerry. Swallowing, she slid it into the pocket of her jeans.

  As she stood up and unbuttoned her coat, she felt someone watching her. She turned, saw Candy’s blue eyes fixed on her, and frowned. She remembered the way Candy had grilled her the other day, and made a mental note to tell Luke about it. Candy Cane definitely couldn’t be trusted.

  Olivia hung her coat in the locker, stowed her purse on the top shelf, and then left the room, ignoring the mindless chatter of the other girls. In the hallway, she took the new cell phone out of her pocket, opened up the contact list and blinked in surprise when she discovered it matched the list from her real phone. How on earth had they transferred her contacts into this thing? She scrolled down and found two new entries, one labeled L, the other T. Luke and Trevor. She highlighted Luke’s number. Just as she pressed SEND, Bobby strode into the corridor, his huge pecs doing a little jiggle beneath his black muscle shirt.

  “Evening, Liv,” the bouncer said.

  “Hey, Bobby.” She covered the mouthpiece. “I’m just checking in with my mom.” When Luke’s voice sounded in her ear, she put on a chirpy voice. “Hey, Mom—yeah, hold on a sec.” Turning back to Bobby, she said, “Is Vince around?”

  The big man shook his head. “Friday meeting.”

  “Oh, right.” She uncovered the mouthpiece. “Mom? Yeah, I’m here.”

  Bobby marched off, giving an awkward wave as he continued down the corridor. She waited until he was out of earshot, then said, “Luke?”

  “You found the phone.”

  “Duh. Now what?”

  There was a short pause. “Did you just say ‘duh’?”

  “Yes.” She rolled her eyes to herself. “And then I said now what?”

  “Get in position by the stairs. I’ll tell you when it’s clear.”

  “Okay. Should I . . . are we hanging up?”

  “No, keep me on the line.”

  Holding the phone to her ear, she left the hallway and stepped into the club, letting her eyes adjust to the barely-there lighting. The place was packed, like it was every Friday night. Every table on the main floor was occupied, and by the stage, a group of rowdy frat boys were whistling and shouting as one of the dancers, Georgia, strutted her stuff. When she removed her bra and twirled it around with her index finger, the club went wild.

  Olivia shifted her gaze, studying the waitresses as they rushed by in their micro-minis, the bouncers posi
tioned all over the vast room. Her eyes landed on the pair of spiral staircases. One led to the VIP lounge, the other to the management offices. She edged toward the farther staircase, keeping her eyes on the crowd. When she reached the foot of the stairs, she leaned against the iron railing and waited.

  “All right, darlin’, the hallway’s clear,” Luke announced.

  “How do you know that?” she hissed. “What if I run into one of Vince’s—”

  “It’s clear,” he repeated. “Trust me, we’re looking at it right now.”

  “You are? How?”

  He ignored the questions. “Move, Olivia. Stay casual. If someone follows you up, tell them you needed a quiet place to talk on the phone.”

  Taking a breath, she ascended the stairs and sure enough, the hallway was deserted. As her heart thudded, she walked as casually as she could in the direction of Vince’s office. The double doors were shut, but when she pushed on the handle, she found them unlocked. Without risking a backward glance, she slid into the room, shut the doors, and let out a shaky exhale.

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  She looked around, not feeling very hopeful. There was a reason Vince didn’t lock his door—other than the desk and computer, the office was bare. No filing cabinets, no shelves, just miles of smooth parquet, expensive art on the walls, and a pair of cushioned visitor chairs.

  “What should I look for?” she whispered into the phone.

  “Anything and everything. Try the computer first, but I doubt he keeps anything of value in there.”

  Olivia made her way to the desk and sank into Vince’s leather chair, cringing when the overbearing scent of his cologne wafted into her nose—his chair reeked of it. She reached for the mouse and the computer screen came to life. A box demanding that she enter a username and password popped up.

  “It’s password-protected,” she said in dismay.

  “We figured. Don’t bother trying to crack it, just go through the desk, see if anything looks suspicious.”

  Sighing, she put the phone on speaker, set it on the desk, and got to work. The drawers were unlocked, but they contained nothing but some pencils, paper clips, a pack of matches. She yanked open the bottom drawer and found a leather ledger that looked promising, but when she flipped open the cover, she saw only blank papers inside.

  A few minutes later, she’d been through the entire desk and found absolutely nothing incriminating.

  “There’s nothing here,” she announced.

  Luke’s disappointment reverberated over the line. “Shit.”

  She paused in thought. “Should I look behind the paintings and see if there’s a safe or something?”

  A deep laugh tickled her eardrum. “And if you find one? You brought your safe-cracking tools, right?”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Just a little.”

  She bristled. “I’m glad this is so entertaining for you.”

  Luke instantly went serious. “It’s not. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven. Now what?”

  “Now you get out of there. We knew that finding anything of value in the office would be a long shot, but we had to try.”

  “So that’s it? You don’t need me to snoop anywhere else?”

  “Not tonight.”

  Not tonight? Annoyance and fear shot up her chest and vied for her attention. She’d have to go through this again? Sneak up here, put her neck on the line, risk getting caught by Vince?

  As unhappiness rippled through her, she left Vince’s office and stepped into the hallway, but rather than go downstairs, she lingered in the hall. Torn.

  “What are you doing, darlin’?”

  She glanced to the left, her gaze drawn to the heavy metal door she’d seen Vince and his goons coming out of so many times before.

  Luke wanted something of value? Well, chances were, that something was right behind that door.

  “I should investigate the back rooms,” she murmured without moving her lips.

  “No, you shouldn’t,” came his sharp reply. “Get downstairs, Olivia.”

  She stayed rooted in place. “But that’s probably where he handles all the drug stuff, right? He bags it up and the dealers come and get it?”

  Silly as it was, her words brought to mind the image of rooms filled with floor-to-ceiling piles of heroin. And then, in a flash, those pictures were replaced with the very real scene she’d stumbled on in Cora’s apartment. The brown powder. The spoon and the syringe and Cora’s blank eyes.

  Ignoring a burst of pain, she clenched her teeth and said, “If you want something incriminating, it’ll be back there, Luke.”

  “This wasn’t part of the plan. If you’re caught, it’ll be impossible to explain why you’re there.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  “Olivia—”

  “I can’t do this again,” she cut in, desperation rising in her throat. “I told you I’d snoop around, but this is too damn stressful and I only plan on doing it once. I’m already up here, so why not check it out?” She paused in hindsight. “Is there anyone there? Can you see on the cameras?”

  “I see forty dudes with machine guns.”

  “Seriously?”

  He swore loudly. “No. But—”

  “Will the cameras pick me up?”

  “No, but—”

  She lifted her chin in resolve. “Then I’m going back there.”

  Chapter 11

  “What the fuck is she doing?” Holden muttered from his seat.

  Luke followed the other man’s gaze and let out a few choice expletives. He and Holden were in the guest room that Holden had dubbed Command Central. There were five computers on the oak corner desk, the floor was littered with cables and wires, and a couple of fax machines and scanners sat on a thick shelf above the desk.

  Three screens displayed the live feed from the Diamond Mine’s security cameras, while a fourth showed the loop that Holden had created. With some serious tricks that Luke still didn’t understand, Holden had substituted the loop for the live footage, so anyone monitoring the footage in Angelo’s security booth was seeing what Holden wanted them to see—an empty office, empty corridor, empty back rooms.

  The back rooms that Olivia was determined to get to.

  He wasn’t sure if she was brave as fuck or crazy as hell, but there was no stopping her. On the live screen, Olivia walked through the big metal door. She promptly appeared on the next monitor, standing in the corridor.

  “She gets caught, it’ll be hard to justify her presence there, man,” Holden said in a low voice.

  “I know.” Which was precisely why they’d asked her to poke around in Angelo’s office only.

  “I’m going to try this door first.” Olivia’s quiet voice emerged from the speaker. The monitors flickered, changed location, and then she stood in a brightly lit room full of filing cabinets.

  Luke watched as she tried opening one of the drawers. Though he couldn’t see her face, he heard the frown in her voice when she reported in. “Locked. Let me try the others.”

  She did a quick sweep of the room, but none of the cabinets opened. “You know,” came her throaty voice, “you should have taught me how to pick locks if you wanted me to be of any use.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll teach you some other time. Now get your ass out of there.”

  “No, wait.” She bent over a table by one of the cabinets. “This is Vince’s pen,” she murmured. “He must have been in here . . . Yeah, I think he wrote something down.” She paused, her spine curving as she hunched closer. “There’s an impression on the paper, left over from the sheet above it. Hold on, let me see if I can read it.”

  Luke knew there was no point in arguing with her. Something he’d discovered tonight? Olivia Taylor was as stubborn as a damn mule.

  From the rattling sounds that filled the line, he could tell that she was riffling through the contents of the desk drawer. When her hand emerged, he spotted a pen
cil between her fingers.

  “I knew those Nancy Drew mysteries I read as a kid would come in handy,” she murmured.

  Luke stifled a laugh, then followed the hurried movement of her hand as she shaded over the impression on the notepad.

  “One sec . . . okay, I’ve got an address,” she hissed. “One seven eight Concord Avenue, unit thirteen. Or maybe it’s one seven five. I can’t tell if it’s a five or an eight. But the street is definitely right, and so’s the unit number.”

  Luke glanced at Holden, who was already typing the address into one of the computers.

  “Good job, darlin’. Now take the paper with you and get out of there.”

  He heard a ripping sound and noticed Olivia tucking something into her pocket. To his overwhelming relief, she made a beeline for the door, except rather than head back to the main hall, she merely moved to the next doorway.

  “Damn it, Olivia. Get out of there. The address is enough.”

  “More than enough,” Holden concurred, turning away from the screen. “We’re looking at an industrial area with a shit ton of abandoned warehouses and apartment buildings on the verge of demolition. Any one of those sites would be the perfect place to stash a hostage.”

  “Did you hear that?” Luke said to Olivia.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Good. Now get out.”

  “All right.”

  Her easy agreement brought another rush of relief, but the feeling didn’t last long. Olivia had just taken a step when Holden said, “Company.”

  Luke shifted his attention to the other monitor and fought a burst of alarm. Two stocky men in black suits and with an indecent amount of gel in their hair were marching toward the metal door.

  “Olivia,” he said sharply. “Hide. Now.”

  On the screen, she seemed to freeze, and then there was a blur of movement. Her long brown hair whipped around her as she dove into the doorway she’d been lurking in front of. The picture changed quickly, revealing another dark room.