I laugh under my breath. That’ll please Danny. “What’s the deal with you two?” I ask, helping myself to another vodka. Just one more before I go out there and search the streets. Again. Up and down, up and down, hoping, calling her repeatedly.
“He cannot be trusted.”
Danny laughs loudly and holds his glass out for me to refill. I’m barely done and he’s necking it. He won’t be getting another. We’ve got a long afternoon ahead. The last thing we both need is to be stopped for riding jet skis under the influence while smuggling in our guns. Fucking hell, now more than ever I wish the delivery wasn’t today.
“He’s ex KGB,” Sandy continues.
I finally feel like we’re getting somewhere, and it’s bittersweet with Beau missing. I need to get to the bottom of this today so I can call her and get her back. Problem is, even if we get answers, I can’t fucking get hold of her to share. And this man in front of me, who could potentially end this for us, still tried to kill Beau. A flashback of her lifeless body on the bed after Dexter shot her invades every corner of my mind. The bullet wound on her tummy.
Where our baby was once growing.
Was.
The Russian nurse who tried to inject her. Kill her.
I see red and am up in Sandy’s face before I can think better of it. “You tried to kill my girlfriend.”
“You killed half my men, including my little brother,” he hisses back, not backing down.
“Easy,” Danny says, pulling me away, giving me a look to suggest he’ll kill me himself if I fuck this up. “Easy,” he says again, patting my arm and guiding my tumbler to my mouth. Turning to Sandy, he holds out his hand, and when Sandy takes it, Danny shakes it like a gentleman rather than squeezes threateningly. It’s a strong message to Sandy.
“What now?” he asks.
“Now,” Danny says thoughtfully, “you tell me if you find out anything else, and I will return the favor.”
“And business?”
“We’ll talk about that once we’ve dealt with this little issue. In the meantime, I assure you, you have one less man vying for your blood.”
Sandy looks at me, waiting. “I can see you will be harder to convince.”
I stare.
“Perhaps,” he goes on, not shying away from the threat in my eyes, “if I told you a close contact of mine reported a sighting of your automobile in a parking lot of a hotel downtown? Would that help?”
“What?”
“You’re here, so I am wondering what your automobile is doing there?”
“What hotel?” I get up in his face again. “Tell me.”
“The Hilton.”
I can’t bring myself to thank the fucker. I fly out of the office, pulling up The Hilton hotel on Google Maps.
There’s no easy or cheap way to do this, and I haven’t got the time or patience to fuck about. “Just remember,” Otto says as we walk through the lobby. “A smile gets you everywhere in this world.”
I flash the man on reception a peek of my gun, not a smile, and slide a bundle of notes across the counter. “Simeon,” I say, taking his name from his badge as I show him a picture of Beau on my screen. He quickly takes the cash and studies the photo.
“May I?” he asks, taking my mobile when I nod. He rounds the desk and wanders over to the concierge, showing him my phone. He shakes his head.
“The waitstaff?” I ask in vain, knowing I’m clutching at straws now, rather than drawing them. Either way, I’m about as lucky with straws as Danny is with poker. If Beau doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be found.
“I will ask housekeeping too,” Simeon says, walking off. Naturally, we follow, and he looks back, uncertain.
“You have my mobile,” I point out. “And probably one on you to call the police if you choose, which I wouldn’t recommend.”
“Definitely wouldn’t recommend.” Otto’s bushy eyebrows rise as I motion for Simeon to continue, and he leads me into the bar, proceeding to show the staff my phone. All of them shake their heads. All of them eye me warily. None of them have seen my girl. “The rooms,” I say.