Ashen Rayne (Shadowlands Book 1) (6 page)

Smoak paused and looked at Blaze. The woman’s green eyes twinkled with excitement and her soft, red-tinted lips were twisted into the most innocent smile Smoak had ever seen. They were lips that begged to be kissed.

“That sounds great,” Smoak said, her conscience kicking her.

“Come on in,” Blaze said, turning away. “My name’s Blaze.”

“Kamryn,” Smoak replied. “Kamryn MacKenna.”

Twenty minutes later, Smoak sat on one of the sofas, a chipped coffee mug in her hands and a plate of toast and honey on the table in front of her. Blaze sat on the opposite sofa, sipping from her own mug of fresh black brew. The coffee was far better than Ashley’s.

“So who were you visiting?” Blaze asked around a mouth full of toast.

“Just a friend,” Smoak replied.

“At three in the morning? They must be some kind of friend.”

“Not that kind of visit,” Smoak said, sipping from her coffee. “They’re just a friend, friend. He has a bad cold.”

“Mm… just a friend. And you bailed on them before dawn?”

Smoak set her mug down and tore off a piece of toast. “Yeah. I need to get a few hours of sleep before I go to work.”

Blaze nodded in understanding. “I’m a musician. I was supposed to have a gig tonight, but the bar was closed by the health department. Something about illegal gator meat.”

“Let me guess. They make gator bite hors d'oeuvres.”

“Yeah,” Blaze said with a smile. “Not very good ones.”

Smoak smiled back and took another bite of toast.

“Are you going to tell me what you do? Or do I have to guess?” Blaze pressed.

Smoak paused and raised her eyes to meet Blaze’s. “I’m a dancer at Lollipops.”

Blaze grinned. “I had a feeling. My sister is, too. She worked…works at Diamonds.”

Smoak saw sadness drift across Blaze’s face, and she reached out with one hand. “Did something happen to your sister?”

It was Blaze’s turn to pause. She bit her lip, not quite meeting Smoak’s eyes.

“She went missing a few days ago. She didn’t come home from work one night.”

“Oh no…. Have the police got any idea what happened?” Smoak asked.

Blaze shook her head angrily. “No. The fucking detective won’t do anything to help because she’s a dancer. She works in ‘the trade’ and isn’t worth a shit, according to Murphy.”

“Is there someone else you can talk to? A supervisor or something?”

Blaze calmed herself and sat back, letting Smoak’s hand slip from hers. “I contacted some friends, some private detectives who have taken the case and are looking for her right now.”

Smoak picked up her coffee. “That’s good. I’m sure they’ll find her before long.”

Blaze looked away again. “I hope so. This isn’t like Rayne, she never stays out after work and always comes home as soon as she can. I’m sure something has happened to her. She’s my best friend and the only family I’ve got.”

“Have faith, Blaze. I’m sure these friends of yours will turn up something soon,” Smoak said.

Blaze picked up her empty mug and toast. “From what I’ve heard, they’re good at what they do, so that’s what I’m hoping. Look, Kamryn, it’s been great meeting you, but I should get some z’s. I have class in a few hours.”

“Sure, I could use some sleep too,” Smoak replied.

She picked up the rest of her own dishes and followed Blaze to the kitchen, where they both silently tossed away their toast and put empty dishes in the sink. When they were finished, Blaze plucked a sticky note from the pad on the fridge and wrote her number on it.

“Call me later,” she said. “I’d love to hang out some more when my eyelids aren’t heavier than cartoon anvils.”

Smoak took the paper and slipped it into the inside pocket of her jacket. “I will.”

She turned toward the door, and her fingers were closing on the knob when she stopped.

“I do believe your sister will be found soon, Blaze. I do.”

Blaze smiled. “That makes two of us. Go, and don’t forget to call me later.”

Smoak smiled back and ducked out the door.

Five minutes later, she was sitting on the back of her bike, sweating in the night air. She was finding it difficult to push Blaze from her mind. The woman was pretty, smart and had a vulnerable quality that made Smoak want to hug her and tell her everything was going to be just fine.

But it wasn’t going to be just fine if she didn’t get off her ass, focus and find Rayne. Dawn was fast approaching, and she had some work to do before the clubs closed for the day.

She started the Classified Moto custom bike, zipped up her jacket and pulled onto the street, still feeling Blaze’s hand on hers.

Diamonds, another of Miami’s famous gentleman’s clubs, sat on a dead end street next to an abandoned building and the pillars of a bridge that had never been completed. The structure was two stories of polished black concrete with a discrete sign in the shape of a diamond in front of the building. Though it was nearly five, there were still a handful of cars and bikes in the lot, and Smoak could hear the bump of dance music even as she parked her bike. Why did no one ever build a club with decent soundproofing?

She strode across the lot and trotted up the stairs to the main entrance. She pulled the door open and stepped through, grimacing at the too loud dance music pounding through the speakers and the bright spotlights that crisscrossed the floor. She put her sunglasses on against the glare of the lights and walked down the corridor to where the doorman was half-dozing on a stool. He looked up when she approached and ran a hand though his silver hair.

“Good morning, ma’am. The sunrise cover is five bucks,” he said.

Smoak pulled a wad of cash out of her pocket and offered the man a folded bill.

“Do you know a girl named Trinity?”

The man nodded and folded his arms across his chest. “I know her, who is asking?”

“My name isn’t important,” Smoak replied. “Her sister hired my partner and me to find her, and she said you might be able to help.”

The man shook his head. “Not me, you’re looking for the night bouncer, Jon-Tom. He’s off today.”

Smoak frowned and filed that away for later. “Thank you, can you point me at Bryce then? I think he’s still the managing partner here.

The older man nodded.

“Yes, ma’am. You’ll find him in his office at the top of the back stairs. Don’t tell him I sent you if he’s got guests.”

“Of course not,” Smoak said, pushing through the curtains. “I don’t even know your name.”

The club beyond the curtain was massive, one of the largest in the Miami area. A central stage held three poles and five dancers, while two outlying stages held two dancers and a single pole each. Nine sleepy looking dancers went through the motions for perhaps two dozen men sucking down Mimosa’s before work.

Smoak ignored the scene and headed straight for the back stairs. She took them two at a time and pushed through the door at the top. Beyond was a dark, dank-smelling corridor with threadbare carpet and stained wallpaper. Four doors emptied into offices on either side of the corridor; the first was lettered in gold: Bryce Martine.

Smoak opened the door without knocking and rolled her eyes at the scene inside the battered old office. Bryce, a middle-aged Latino man with black hair and dark eyes, sat behind the desk, his white linen shirt unbuttoned to show off a collection of chains and tattoos. A dark-skinned woman sat on the desk gyrating for his pleasure, while another girl’s paler legs stuck out from beneath the old wood. It wasn’t hard to tell what she was doing.

“Oi! You ladies take five, I need to talk to Bryce,” Smoak said, holding the door open.

The two girls turned to look at Smoak and glanced at Bryce, who was trying to stuff his manhood back in his pants.

“Yeah, yeah, you two take a break while I talk to my old friend Smoak,” he said.

“Whatever you say, Bry,” the dark-skinned girl said. “Come on, Shanna.”

The two girls left, and Smoak closed the door behind them.

“Really, Bryce? Those girls should be home getting ready for school not sucking you off. I know it’s hard, but do you think you could have any less class?”

Bryce held up his hands in surrender. “Naw naw, Smoak, you got it all wrong! They asked me for a little extra green. I was happy to oblige, and we all get what we want.”

“You’re a repulsive human being,” Smoak said. “I’m sending them home after you answer some questions for me.”

Bryce frowned. “But, Smoak, baby, I’ll go blue…”

Smoak glared at Bryce and gripped one of her knives.

“The girls go home. You can deal with your little problem yourself when I’m gone.”

Bryce sighed and rubbed his neck. “Sure, fine, sure just keep those blades away from me. What do you want, besides to ruin my social life?”

“I need to know if you’re in bed with anyone besides the help,” Smoak said. “Like maybe the Brats?”

“The who? The Russians? Naw girl, Diamonds is under the protection of the Kings. You know that,” Bryce replied. “They’d have my nuts if I did business with the Russians.”

Smoak nodded. “That’s what I thought. What about a dancer named Trinity, do you remember her?”

Bryce nodded. “Course I do, I fired her ass tonight. She ain’t been to work in two days.”

“Then how did you fire her?” Smoak asked.

Bryce shrugged. “I left her a message.”

“You fired her voicemail instead of checking on her? Good job, those are some great management skills you have. Do you know if she was working anywhere else?”

“I don’t allow no moonlighting! If she was working another club, I’d have fired her before now.” Why are you asking all this? What do you care?”

“She’s missing. I’m going to find her. What about friends? Did you see her hanging out with anyone?”

“She’s missing? Damn… she was a good earner. Look, Smoak, I don’t know nothing. She came to work, did her job and went home. No friends, no regulars, just twelve hours a week grinding a pole.”

Smoak frowned. “Twelve hours? That’s it?”

“Yeah. She was a part timer, filling in during the evening rush. She was out by six or seven every night.”

Smoak opened the door. “Then she had another gig somewhere. Thanks, Bryce.”

“Another gig? Where? I’ll fire her ass!” Bryce yelled.

“You already fired her machine, idiot,” Smoak said over her shoulder. She closed the door and looked at the two girls leaning against the wall. “You two go home,” she said, holding out a pair of twenties. “Don’t let me catch you in that idiot’s office again. He isn’t worth the effort or the clinic visit.”

The girls looked puzzled, but took the money Smoak offered, and scurried away down the stairs. Smoak waited until they were gone before she followed, her mind racing.

Blaze had indicated it was normal for Rayne to come home late at night, but Bryce said she was only working a few hours a day. So where was she the rest of the time?

Smoak walked down the stairs and out through the front door, grateful she had her glasses on against the predawn sun.

There were only a handful of clubs frequented by the Bratva, but they would be closed at this hour. She’d have to wait until the afternoon to check them out. In the meantime, she would head back to the apartment and see if Ashley had dug up anything. With any luck, she’d have another lead.

Smoak looked across the lot at the glow of the rising sun and frowned. Rayne was running out of time, and so far, all she had was a cigarette and a handful of gold. Not much to find a missing woman in all of Miami, especially if someone didn’t want her found.

Ashley left The Colony a few minutes behind Smoak and was just in time to see the taillight of her friend’s bike vanish around the next corner. She watched for a second, then crossed the street and climbed into the back seat of a waiting Chevrolet Tahoe. A large man with white hair and a full beard sat behind the wheel. He was wearing a suit cut to hide his muscles and the micro-Uzi he kept in a sling under his left arm.

“Take me home, Rock,” Ashley said, closing the door.

The driver nodded and put the truck in gear. A moment later, they were cruising back toward South Beach. Ashley watched the city go by outside the window and let her mind wander. She found it to be a good way of replaying an interview with a client. They didn’t have much to go on. A missing exotic dancer wasn’t exactly strange. It happened all the time. Most went back to whatever small town they were from. A handful vanished, never to be heard from again. In this case, she felt it would be the latter if they didn’t find her soon.

Ashley had heard of a few in the trade leaving siblings behind, but it was a rare occurrence. From what she’d seen, Blaze was very concerned about her sister. Odds were that Rayne felt the same way about Blaze and wouldn’t have left her behind without saying something.

So where to start? Smoak had the ground covered, but Ashley didn’t think she would find much. There had been no clues in the other kidnappings over the last few weeks. What if they couldn’t find this girl?

Ashley pushed the thought from her mind and leaned back in her seat. She’d bet herself and Smoak against the bad guys any day.

The Tahoe pulled into the parking circle of their apartment building and stopped. Rock climbed out to hold the door open, and Ashley joined him outside.

“Thank you, Rock,” she said. “Put it on my account, please.”

Rock closed the door behind her.

“Will you need my services again tonight, Miss Ashley?” he asked in a New York accent.

She shook her head. “Not tonight, hon. I’ll call in the morning if I need a ride anywhere.”

“Of course. Do you need an escort to the door? I’d be happy to walk you up.”

Ashley smiled and kissed the older man’s cheek. “I think I can manage. I’ll call you tomorrow. Or today, I guess. Goodnight, Rock.”

“Goodnight, Miss,” Rock replied. “Sleep well.”

Ashley stepped onto the sidewalk and moved toward the entrance, her thoughts on the case. The doorman opened the doors for her, and she saw the Tahoe’s reflection in the glass as Rock drove away. He and his brother were one of the best gifts Smoak had ever given her. Twenty-four-seven chauffer and bodyguard service anywhere in the city with longer trips available with just a few days’ notice. It made her as free as when they’d been kids riding their bikes anywhere and everywhere they wanted to go.

She smiled a thank you at the doorman and moved through the well-appointed lobby to the elevator. A few minutes later, she sat on the white leather sofa in their apartment, her heels on the floor, and her legs tucked under her as she ran a variety of search programs on her tablet. It wasn’t difficult to start a file on the Nightingales. They were a year apart in age, their parents and little brother had died in a car crash when the girls were seven. With no relatives that could take them, they grew up in foster care and both had graduated from the Christian Academy only a few minutes from where Smoak and Ashley had attended High School themselves.

After graduation, the girls had moved to Miami to attend college, Rayne studying finance and literature, Blaze studying music. Both were on the Dean’s List the last three years running and would graduate with honors in nine months.

That information was readily available in public databases. What she found next took a little digging.

Rayne had been arrested three times in her teens, once for shoplifting and twice for drug possession with intent to sell. All three times, a Detective Murphy had been the arresting officer and, each time, the girl had walked away with a slap on the wrist. She’d spent less time in jail than Smoak had. After Rayne’s third arrest, Murphy had been fired, somehow turning up in Miami a few years later.

Ashley added everything into the Shadowlands database for easy access, rolling it around in her head while she worked. It was obvious Blaze hadn’t recognized Murphy’s name. She hadn’t known Rayne had been arrested, or at least who the arresting officer was. Most of their foster records were not available through the network. Ashley would bet dollars to donuts the girls had been separated, and Rayne had gotten into trouble while they were apart. It was a sad but common occurrence in the foster system. Not everyone wanted or could raise more than one child.