Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (34 page)

Angelo was decked out in a fitted pin-striped suit, a crimson tie, and shiny loafers. His dark hair was gelled away from his face, providing a clear view of the deep crease in his forehead. “I know you,” Angelo said sharply.

Luke donned a blank expression and mumbled something into the gag.

“What was that?”

He silently dared the other man to come closer, dying for the chance to bite some of the fucker’s fingers off. To his disappointment, Angelo stayed put. He whistled, and the son of a bitch who’d rear-ended the SUV entered the room.

“Remove his gag,” Angelo ordered.

The goon walked over and ripped the cloth out of Luke’s mouth.

Angelo nodded in satisfaction. “Now leave us.”

After the guard disappeared, Angelo focused those reptilian eyes on Luke. “Yes. I do know you. You got a lap dance from my girl.”

Luke shrugged. “I get a lot of lap dances.”

“I see.” The man smiled graciously. “And do you pay late-night visits to every dancer who grinds on your thigh?”

Crap. So someone
had
seen him scaling Olivia’s fire escape this morning. Luke promptly awarded himself with another mental beating. He’d let his feelings for Olivia distract him, and now he was fucked.

His best bet? Keep Angelo talking and hope the others got here soon. An SOS call from a teammate was never ignored, so the boys were undoubtedly on their way, riding to his rescue.

He also decided that he couldn’t lie his way out of this, not entirely anyway. Vince knew he’d been at Olivia’s apartment—there was no way out of that one. But maybe with some damage control, his slipup wouldn’t get him killed. Or Olivia.

He licked his dry lips. “Olivia and I—”

“Don’t you
dare
say her name!”

Luke raised his brows. “I thought you wanted to know why I went to her apartment last night.”

Angelo’s incensed expression dimmed slightly. “Why were you there?” he snapped.

“Olivia and I are in the same economics class,” Luke explained. “That’s one of the reasons I went to her for a dance. I know money is tight for her, but she’s too proud to take a loan. I figured she’d pocket half the fee for the lap dance and it would be a way for me to help her without it feeling like charity. And last night, we were studying for midterms and the session ran late. I crashed there because I was too exhausted to go home.”

The other man narrowed his eyes. “And climbed out the window this morning? Tell me, why would you do that?”

“Her mother fell asleep on the couch,” he said smoothly. “I didn’t want to disturb her by making noise on my way out—she’s sick, you know—so I went down the fire escape.”

Angelo seemed to absorb each word carefully, and when that crease dug into his forehead again, Luke knew the man wasn’t buying any of it.

“Let me tell you how it is,” Angelo said in a soft voice. “Olivia is my girl. She’s the woman I’m going to marry.”

“Really? She never mentioned that, but congratulations.”

Angelo’s mouth twisted angrily. “My man liberated your wallet.”

But not his gun . . . Evidently Angelo’s goons hadn’t thoroughly searched the SUV, otherwise they’d have discovered his weapon under the seat. That was good. Meant that he was nothing more than the man who was potentially fucking Olivia, and not one who was investigating Carter Dane’s disappearance.

“Luke Dubois,” Angelo went on. “New Orleans driver’s license. Did you just move here?”

“Yes. For school,” he lied.

Angelo offered a wide smile. “I haven’t quite decided what to do with you yet, but whether I let you live or not, I’m afraid a Manhattan education is no longer a viable option for you.”

“That sounds fair,” Luke said magnanimously.

Angelo’s jaw went tighter than a drum. “You think this is a joke?”

“No, not really.”

“Then wipe that smirk off your face.”

Huh. Had he been smirking? Apparently that was a big no-no because Angelo whistled again, twice this time. His goon reentered the room, followed by a second thug with long black hair tied back in a ponytail.

Angelo scowled at the newcomers. “Gentlemen, please show our friend that I don’t joke around. I’d do it myself, but I don’t want to get blood on this suit. It’s new.”

Crap.

As the two thugs rolled up their sleeves and advanced on the chair, Angelo slid out the door and shut it behind him.

Stifling a groan, Luke looked at the two men. “Go easy on me, boys,” he said with a sigh.

Chapter 19

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Olivia fought a frown as Candy approached her station. The blonde was in her street clothes: a pair of tight black jeans, high-heeled leather boots, and a red sweater that hugged her chest. Dressed like that, Candy looked chic as hell. For a second Olivia was tempted to ask her why someone who oozed such elegance would choose to work in a place like this, but then she remembered the unsettling conversation they’d had before Cora died and promptly rejected the impulse. Luke hadn’t mentioned Candy since Olivia had shared her suspicions with him. It could have slipped his mind, or maybe he simply hadn’t found anything of worth. Either way, Olivia’s gut continued to insist that Candy Cane was not what she appeared.

“What’s up?” Olivia asked guardedly.

Candy sat down in the neighboring chair. “I wanted to talk to you about Heaven.”

She blinked. “Oh, okay. I, ah, didn’t peg you as religious.”

The other dancer chuckled. “No, not Heaven as in Heaven and Hell. Heaven as in the dancer we work with.”

Her cheeks heated. “Right. Sorry.”

“I’m trying to get her into rehab,” Candy confessed.

“You are?”

“Yeah, but I’m afraid she’s not keen on the idea.”

Olivia pictured Heaven’s emaciated face, the needle marks marring her arms, and sighed. “She’s pretty far gone.”

“I know, but I’m not ready to write her off just yet.” The blonde breathed a sigh of her own. “I think she wants to stop, but she’s not sure how to do it. I told her I have contacts with an excellent rehab facility and I know if she just agreed to go, she can battle this addiction.”

Olivia pursed her lips. “What do you want from me then?”

“Talk to her,” Candy urged. “See if you can convince her to seek help. I figured it wouldn’t hurt for someone else to have a go at it. Maybe she’ll listen to you.”

The look on Candy’s face gave Olivia pause. Her concern was obvious, her voice strained, as if she honestly couldn’t stomach the thought of another person in pain. Perhaps Olivia had been wrong about this woman. Maybe Candy really had been trying to help her that day in the dressing room, rather than digging for information.

“I’ll talk to her,” Olivia promised.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Candy rose from her chair. “I’m going to wash up and get ready for my set.”

As the blonde disappeared into the bathroom, Olivia turned back to the mirror and studied her reflection. God, she didn’t want to be here today. The club, the city, the damn planet. She just wanted to get away from it all, and it startled her to realize that where she really wanted to be was with Luke. And not even for sex. She wanted to be near him. With him. She wanted to hear his Southern drawl and his assurance that all this bullshit would be over soon.

Loud footsteps broke through her troubled thoughts. The dressing room door flew open with a violent crash and Vince’s shoulders suddenly filled the doorway. Olivia took one look at him and froze.

“Everyone out,” Vince snapped.

The other girls milling around exchanged apprehensive glances, but nobody put up a fight. Whether in their costumes, street clothes, or buck naked, the dancers filed out of the room like obedient soldiers.

Olivia slowly got to her feet. “Hey,” she said in a shaky voice. “What’s going on?”

He moved toward her like a predator, his eyes gleaming with an odd look she couldn’t decipher. “Sit back down, Olivia.”

Swallowing, she did as she was told. And waited.

He didn’t speak for nearly a minute. Gazed at her with that veiled yet terrifying expression. The longer he stayed silent, the more fearful she became.

What was going on, damn it?

“Vince . . .” She tried to get up again.

“Sit. Down.” His smile was downright sinister. “You and I need to have a little talk, my love.”

* * *

The cavalry had arrived. They didn’t make a sound, didn’t broadcast their presence, but one second Luke had two pairs of fists pounding into his gut, the next there were two dead bodies lying at his feet.

Groaning, he lifted his head in time to see D lower his weapon, a gleaming black Beretta with a silencer screwed onto the barrel. “If you lecture me about killing them unnecessarily, I’ll shoot you too,” D rasped.

Luke glanced at the puddle of blood forming around the dead thugs, then up at D. “Nah, no lecture.”

“Good.” D gave him a once-over. “They really did a number on you.”

“Yup.” He wasn’t about to try to deny it. Vince’s goons had graciously avoided his face, but his body had taken a real pounding. Ribs definitely bruised, kidneys felt like they were about to fail, and his abdomen throbbed like a bitch.

D removed a knife from the sheath on his hip and walked over to the chair, quickly slicing through the duct tape binding Luke’s chest, hands, and feet. As Luke stumbled to an upright position, Trevor bounded into the room, his trademark Sig in his hand and a frown on his face. “You all right?”

“Just peachy.”

“Good.” Trevor cocked his head. “Now, do you care to explain what the
hell
happened?”

“Angelo had me jumped. His goon rear-ended the Rover.” He took a step, cursing when pain shot through his chest. “The SUV’s in Greenwich Village. Tell Holden to track its GPS and arrange for a tow.”

His ribs ached every step he took, and Trevor took pity on him and shouldered some of his weight. “Angelo did this?”

Luke gestured to the stiffs on the floor. “Those two did, on Angelo’s orders. Did you clear the house?”

“Yeah, it’s empty.”

“Grab their phones,” Luke told D. “Angelo will expect them to check in.”

“Come on,” Trevor said as D collected the phones. “Holden’s waiting in the car.”

They exited the room and made their way along the narrow hallway. Angelo’s childhood home was quite unimpressive. The place was the size of a closet, consisting of that lime green bedroom, a small living room sandwiched next to an even smaller kitchen, and a lot of peeling paint on the walls. The carpet beneath their feet was frayed and covered with stains, and the entire place reeked of mildew.

Liam Macgregor stood guard at the front door, one hand hovering over the holster on his hip. His male-model features creased with sympathy when he spotted Luke. “See, I told you Morgan needs me full-time. You boys obviously require a babysitter.”

Trevor rolled his eyes. “Well, you get to babysit the stiffs, pretty boy. I’ll arrange for a cleanup crew.”

“Yes, sir,” Liam said with barely restrained amusement.

“Make sure it’s done quietly,” Trevor added. “And rendezvous at the apartment when it’s finished.”

They left Macgregor in the house and headed to the SUV parked at the curb. The second Luke slid into the backseat, he turned to Trevor and said, “We need to get to the club.”

“No, we need to get you back to the safe house and clean you up.”

“Fuck that. Angelo knows I was at Olivia’s apartment last night.” Each breath brought a throb of agony to his abdomen. “She’s in trouble.”

“How did they make you?” Holden asked as he sped away from the curb.

“I fucked up, okay? He must have put a couple extra guards on her, and had someone covering the back of the building.”

“And you didn’t see them?” D snapped, sounding livid.

“I was distracted. I thought there was only that one tail on her.” Panic clawed at his belly. “I fed Angelo some crap about being a friend from school, but I don’t think he bought it. He’ll confront Olivia, and if she can’t talk him down, who knows what he’ll do. That man is cool as a cucumber, but not when it comes to her.”

Trevor swore softly. “I’ll get Sullivan to handle it. You’re in no condition to do anything but tape up those ribs.”

“Screw my ribs. We go to the club.”

“And what, shoot up the place?” Trevor shook his head. “Isabel’s already inside, and Sullivan’s in position. They’ll get Olivia out and bring her to the apartment.” His fingers flew over the phone keyboard. “I’m texting Isabel to let her know that Angelo is about to cause some trouble.”

* * *

Olivia snuck a furtive glance at the door, wondering if she could make a run for it if things got ugly. Which was a real possibility, judging by the antagonistic glint in Vince’s eyes. But what had provoked him? Had she sparked his suspicion by asking too many questions about his business? Or . . . oh boy, had he found out about Luke? But how? Luke had assured her that nobody would see him leaving her building.

“I’ve taken good care of you, haven’t I, Olivia?”

Said the psycho to his captive.

She choked down her incredulity and gave a cautious nod.

“I’ve been generous and patient, and always nothing but honest with you.” He paused. “I expect that same level of honesty in return. Is that too much to ask from you?”

“No,” she said warily.

“Exactly. So, why don’t we put that honesty to the test?” Vince’s gaze swept over her face like a hawk’s. “Did you fuck him last night?”

Her heart sank. This
was
about Luke then.

Olivia’s brain quickly snapped into damage-control mode. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that how we’re going to play it? Denial? I suggest you choose another strategy. I just left your gentleman caller. Alive, I should add.” He smirked. “But one phone call and he dies. So now let me ask you again—did you fuck him last night?”

Panic swirled through her like a gust of frigid wind. Oh God. What the hell should she do? Lie? Vince would see right through that. Maybe play the victim and cry rape? No. She didn’t have the stomach for that.

The jig is up. It’s over
.

It was, wasn’t it? At that realization, a startling rush of relief soared inside her and she suddenly felt so utterly liberated she wanted to pump her fists in the air. Six months. Six fucking months she’d been putting up this pretense, and now she didn’t have to bother anymore.