by Kells, India
He switched the cameras to a different view. Orla had successfully met with Damon Evans, one of the possible people who had more information on Phantom’s impending release.
Via the wide-angle camera of a nearby building, he had seen Evans enter the restaurant, followed by Orla a few minutes after. Safe neighborhood, wise choice. Evans wouldn’t be recognized in that part of town.
Apart from a flash of pale blonde hair through the main window, Sam couldn’t see Orla. They stayed a long time, and Sam wondered what they were discussing. Had the biker given her anything useful? Orla was a dedicated and passionate woman, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she took risks in her line of work. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw Evans kiss Orla. Her back was to the camera, but it was clear she didn’t fight it. However, there was definite surprise along with a frown on her face as the man left. She wasn’t happy with something he’d done or said. Or what was to come, maybe? Such a strange woman, the only time he’d been able to see what lay underneath her polished façade was when he’d seen her face contorted in ecstasy.
Sam put his hand in his jeans pocket and closed his fingers around something he’d kept with him since the night before. Making sure he was alone; he opened his hand to a delicate silver chain with a beautiful pendant in the form of a crescent moon. The detail on the piece was exquisite, and softly reflected the light. It was handmade with great artistry, and he wondered if Orla had noticed it was gone. He hadn’t noticed it until he’d removed his Kevlar and his eyes caught on the jewelry trapped in one of the straps. What did it mean to her? The more he learned about the woman, the more he wanted to know, and that was a big no-no. In the past, he would’ve been wary of having a journalist so close, and now, it wasn’t an option, no matter how great the temptation.
His thumb traced the crescent shape one last time before he put it back in his pocket. He considered popping back to her apartment to find out what she’d learned, but his train of thought was interrupted by the familiar lurking shadow of the team’s annoying hacker.
“You have no fucking stealth, Devin. You should stop trying to sneak up on any of us.”
Devin snickered and hitched his ass on the desk, towering over Sam. “I don’t need to have stealth to be dangerous. I just need a computer to make your life a living nightmare. Or snitch on you to Lance after your little stunt with the journalist. Maybe I should have recorded it and sold it online. I would have made a bundle releasing a video of Chicago’s legendary vigilante’s dick.”
Sam would’ve snapped at him, but he knew Devin well enough to know that while the man liked to tease, he was too loyal to do such a thing.
“You have an indecent amount of money as it is. And as for my dick, I want to keep that marvel of nature secret. If too many people knew about it, I’d have to constantly fight off hordes of horny people following me around.”
Devin snickered. “That’s so not happening.” He immediately sobered. “I haven’t told Lance or any of the others what happened, and I’m not going to mention how bad that decision was, but what’s is done is done. What are you going to do now?”
“There is no change to the mission. That was a one-time thing, nothing else.”
Devin didn’t seem convinced, but Sam was grateful he let it go. “Any improvement in Lance’s condition? Did he come down today?”
“Yeah. I didn’t see him, but Melina went to check on him after finishing at the clinic and doing some training. I chatted with her a bit, and she was satisfied with his progress. But he came close to dying. I’m trying to improve his suit, all of them for that matter, to make sure the next sicko using a Rambo blade on you doesn’t have it that easy. We prepared for explosions and bombs, various types of bullets, but it seems that blades are an issue. I checked Lance’s suit, and it penetrated one of the seams of the body armor that hadn’t been reinforced. My bad.”
It was clear Devin felt responsible for Lance’s injury. Not only was he the computer magician of the group, but Devin had also helped design each of their suits, and it wasn’t an easy task. They needed to allow mobility, be combat-ready, blend into the darkness, and not give off noise. Sam knew body armor wasn’t infallible and they were always revaluating their protection as well as their weapons and techniques. If they failed, it wasn’t any individual’s fault.
“Stop beating yourself up. What we do is dangerous. You helped design the best protection available. Hell, if the cops knew what we had, they’d want it too. A serrated blade in close-combat situation can’t really be stopped unless we wear chain mail and you know we can’t do that. It was bad luck Lance had been stabbed, but he survived and will go into the field again. Nobody here, especially not Lance, blames you for what happened.”
It was clear the hacker wasn’t convinced, but Sam couldn’t do anything about that. Knowing Devin, he was already at the drawing board, reworking every suit, re-evaluating each of them with ideas and innovations for improvement. Between running his own business and the work he did at the lair, Sam wondered when the man slept.
“On another note, I’m working on a tracking dot that will have sound. It’s still too big, but once I reduce it to the same size as the others, we’ll be able to use it.”
Sam gestured to the screens. “Good news. It would’ve been handy to know what Orla and Evans discussed this morning.”
Devin rolled his eyes and gestured at him to give him his seat at the command center. “Yeah, as if that wouldn’t have stopped you from sneaking into her apartment.”
Sam complied and put his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the pendant. “I sneak when it’s necessary. And as I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t have other options.”
Stretching his arms and shoulders, Devin’s sarcastic smirk returned with a vengeance. “It’s because you forget you have the best computer hacker on the face of the earth in your team. There’s not much I can’t hack into, except maybe a human brain, but I’m working on that.”
Not certain if he was joking or not, Sam decided not to dignify that with an answer, even though he found the possibility frightening.
“While you were grabbing a couple of ‘zees’, as military men say, I started looking into our new friend, president of the MC Storm Wayfarers, Mr. Damon Evans. Quite an achiever for someone so young, and well respected too, from what I could find. He kills with one hand and funds an organization for single mothers with the other. I think it’s probably a way to deal with his guilt or past wounds. His gang is growing at a steady pace and had some interesting money stashed, mostly invested, which is a good move. Frequents both ladies and gentlemen but has been celibate for quite some time. Maybe he thinks your Orla would be a good match.”
Sam almost reacted to that, but it would’ve only given Devin something to pull on. Forcing his clenched jaw to relax, he reminded himself he wouldn’t be the journalist’s last fuck, and she could have whoever she wanted in her bed. It wasn’t any of his business who she fucked after him.
“But what might interest you even more, is what he’s done in the past few hours. When he left Orla, he made some calls. The first one was to a private number. I’ve been digging into it, and it wasn’t easy, which made me even more curious. I wanted a name, but I got a company. The number is for the Maximon Entertainment Group. Interesting fact, Maximon is a Mayan trickster god, a womanizer, and a drunk. A real party guy, but very loyal to his people. It’s an interesting symbol for a company.”
“Sounds like a Chicago mafia guy. If they have a corporate name, it’s an official company.”
Devin hesitated a second. “You could say that. They legally own casinos, two web channels, and have branched out into every area of the entertainment industry.”
Sam processed the information. “Not a giant step to think they have other, less shiny branches too.”
“Yeah. I’ll need a bit more time to dig that information up. As usual, following the money will probably get us more answers.”
“Who are the owners?”
“So far, I’ve found two names. Mr. White and Mr. Black. No first names, no information about them apart from that they have been partners for quite some time, at least from what the documents state. They may be pseudonyms, that needs to be verified. And if it’s the case, they aren’t very imaginative with their names. Until I can confirm and have more data, I strongly suggest we don’t take action. For now, at least. No need to let them know we’re on them.”
That meant they were at a standstill until they could confirm a few things. “I’m no good at waiting. And you were right, I’ll have to go and annoy Orla some more. There is a possibility she’s found more information.”
Devin swirled his chair into a complete circle and repeated the move with a knowing smirk on his face. “I might have a better idea. Evans’ first call wasn’t the last. He made one to his lieutenants, and then called a dress shop. A very fancy one that provides evening gowns.”
This time, Sam couldn’t help but frown. “A dress. Not a coincidence after he’d had breakfast with Orla.”
“I agree with you, friend. Something is planned for tonight, and I have confirmation. His last call was to a limo company, and it took me exactly two seconds to hack into their reservation system and find out two things. One, the limo is indeed reserved for tonight. Two, it’s making three stops, one at Evans’, one at Orla’s, and the last at the Theater on the Lake.”
Same knew the place located in Lincoln Park, right on the shore of Lake Michigan. “Let me guess, Maximon Entertainment Group is planning something there tonight?”
“You’re smart. It seems they’re celebrating the launch of a video game to a very selected crowd of people without any journalists or media invited. I’m thinking it’s a cover for another kind of celebration.”
“The launch of Phantom. Security will be tight. I’ll need backup on this one.”
Devin spun his chair again. “I think what you’ll need is a tux rather than a gun. I’ve done my magic on this one and got Sam Ferguson from Noctem Consulting an invite. With a plus one. That way, you can keep an eye on things from the inside, but still have backup on the outside.”
Sam whistled. “Glad you’re on our side, mate. I think with your skills you could bring a country down.”
“Nah, too easy. I crave a real challenge and will only be satisfied when we bring Phantom’s distributors for good.”
Chapter Nine
This was ludicrous. There was no way in hell she was stepping out of her apartment dressed like that. Orla doubted about Evans’ word until a delivery man arrived at her apartment, and she was called to the lobby by the concierge. The delivery man had not one, but three enormous boxes for her. The name on them indicated they were from one of Chicago’s upscale dress shops. Did Evans think she wasn’t capable of finding something suitable for the evening?
After hauling them to her apartment, with the help of the concierge and the delivery guy, she opened the boxes and realized Evans might have been right. She had a couple of nice outfits, but nothing as chic as what she’d received.
Orla discovered the biggest box held a couple of dresses, the second one had shoes, and the last one, surprisingly, an assortment of high-quality wigs. It took only a second to understand Evans had thought about details that eluded her. She was recognizable within the Chicago scene with her platinum hair and face in print and online on a regular basis. She wasn’t against dying her hair for a story, but what he’d offered was a much simpler solution.
Her first frustration had been selecting one of the dresses. They’d been chosen from designer collections, but all of them showed way more skin than she was comfortable with. On the other hand, she knew Evans would show her off as eye candy, and while eye candy got attention, nobody really remembered them or noticed when they were in a crowd.
The dress she eventually selected was a sheer, long-sleeved, floor-length dress, with a built-in bra and high-waisted panties that protected her modesty. With a deep V at the front and back, it would have been anything but elegant if not for the flowy quality and the shimmery tonal embroidery. When the light caught on the yards of transparent fabric, it made for a stunning ensemble, even if most of her body was visible underneath. She paired it with ornate gold high heels and a pair of simple studded golden earrings. If she wore any more bling, she would need to distribute sunglasses to those around her. From all the wigs, she found a blond number with darker highlights and quickly arranged it in a low, romantic bun. The look was stunning, and with heavy enough makeup, nobody would ever recognize her, not even Kelli.
Standing in front of her largest mirror, Orla examined herself from head to toe, making sure everything was perfect, but something kept bugging her. What had she missed? Her eyes kept coming back to the plunging décolletage, but she didn’t have a piece of jewelry that would work. It wasn’t as if she could wear her mother’s silver necklace. And that was what was missing. Her moon necklace! Panic invaded her as she frantically looked around but caught herself, knowing she’d run out of time. Evans had said he’d be waiting for her downstairs at ten sharp, and it was time to go.
Taking a deep breath, she repeated to herself that it was in her apartment, probably among the discarded clothes on her bedroom floor. No need to get herself into a twist and she couldn’t crawl around on the floor in her dress.
One last look in the mirror told her it was now or never before she lost her courage or found her common sense. As she made her way down to the lobby, the cold caused her to shiver. This time of year, Orla would have preferred to bundle up in her old blanket but knew she’d only be outside for a second.
She stepped out of the elevator, and immediately spotted Damon standing on the other side of the expanse of glass with the limo behind him. In a full black tuxedo, blond hair slicked back and impeccably groomed, it was easier to forget he ran one of the most dangerous MCs in town and imagine he was a successful tycoon instead.
He turned and saw her, his entire body freezing for a second, quickly followed by a wide, appreciative grin. When she opened the door, the cold was difficult to ignore, and Evans quickly bundled her in the limo, and she was glad the heater was on high.
“You look like a vision.”
Orla appreciated the compliment but scrunched her nose. “I would’ve preferred a selection appropriate for the season. I look ready for the beach.”
Gallantly, Evans took her hand and kissed it. “Anything other than that dress covering you would be an insult to your beauty.”
“Are all bikers that poetic in their compliments?”
“We normally like to add in a few fucks and damns, but as this is a high-end date, I wanted to buff it up.”
Her immediate answer was a laugh. “Appreciated, Mr. Evans, but this is not a date. This is a mission to learn more about the drug distribution and people involved in it.”
With a nod, he relaxed in his seat, glancing at the division from the driver, probably making sure it was up. “The buyers are under the umbrella of the Maximon Entertainment Group. As a matter of fact, we’re heading to a soiree organized by the Maximon Group. I don’t know the names of the rest of the men involved in the consortium, but it’s more than probable they’ll be there. Also, you better start calling me Damon, no date of mine would address me by my last name.”
Frustration made her clench her jaw. If he’d told her that bit of information this morning, she would’ve had the time to do some research, to dig deeper. It was hard to remember that in this particular instance, she wasn’t in control. If she wanted in, Damon had to lead the way. For now, at least. “We’ll have to see how we go. I need to see their faces and get their names. More if possible. They probably aren’t their real names either, but with their faces, I’ll have more to work with.”
All signs of flirting left Damon’s face. “I’m only getting you through the door, but if anything puts my people in danger, I won’t have any qualms in leaving you high and dry if you’re the cause of it.”
As far
as threats went, it couldn’t be clearer. Orla nodded, knowing he wasn’t playing and that his generosity had hard limits.
The ride took no more than fifteen minutes through light traffic. As she looked at the buildings and the people walking around, she wondered if the vigilante was following her. She knew better than to get distracted by wayward images, but somehow, picturing that dark guardian angel watching over her calmed her. And she’d take all the support she could, even if it was only imagined.
When the limo stopped in front of the Theater on the Lake’s grand entrance, a valet opened her door, and she knew it was showtime. Ignoring her discomfort and the cold, Orla smiled as she exited the car, and turned to wait for Damon to step beside her. The man hooked his arm around her waist and brought her firmly to his side, giving her a kiss on the neck before leading her inside.
Orla had been inside the glass and steel building before, but it was the first time she’d been there at night. The entire space had been decorated in gold and black, and from the large posters hanging from the steel beams, the party was to promote some sort of video game. However, the crowd was obviously not the type to play games. All glammed up, she recognized a few prominent businessmen. Were they involved in this scam, or were they only being used as decoys?
“Mr. Evans! Such a great pleasure to have you here with us tonight. I’m Mr. Black. I’m the one you spoke with earlier.”
Before letting her go to shake the offered hand of the jovial man, Damon squeezed her hip twice. Immediately, her heart skipped a beat, and her brain kicked in, detailing the man before her. Mr. Black was the name of one of the men Damon had mentioned at breakfast. Their host was an iron junkie without a doubt, his tailored suit tuxedo barely containing his muscles. If not for the pricey watch and shoes, he could’ve almost passed for a bodyguard.
