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But nothing that I see here shocks me. It was only meant to be a quick pit stop on our way to the real thing of interest, down on the next dock.
I nod at Scarlett who’s trying to pick at one of the crates. Curiosity, probably. “Get changed.” I point back at the bag near the body. “There are clothes in there.”
“These are Hanlon Shipping crates,” she says, tapping the top of one of them. “But they don’t have the name on them, just this.”
I cross toward her and peer at the spot she’s pointing to in the top right-hand corner. It’s a ship stamp, very small. “This was the symbol from when they took over the company way back… Before they changed the name and the logo.”
“Were you even born?”
She moves on to the next one like she didn’t even hear me. Scarlett traces her finger over the top, in search of the symbol. She stabs it when she finds it. “I remember old stationery that I used for drawing as a kid. It was all in boxes down in the basement. The boxes were dusty and…” She shrugs. “Guess some of the crates have been recycled.”
They don’t look old.
I grit my teeth.
Because they’re not old. I send a quick text to Smith to have someone come out here to discreetly look into it. I’m not sure if I want the crates opened, but he and Jones will work out the best way to handle things here.
It’s not my concern.
Not my job to decide what happens to these crates.
The list is my objective.
These crates could contain equipment for UR Fantasies, even though they don’t usually leave things in storage. And film equipment isn’t normally packed in such big crates. But there are other clients across an array of dirty businesses that her father ships for.
I file the information away, along with the basement as a place to look when I get a chance to get back into her father’s house. I need to get into Grant’s place, too.
That might be tricker, but a meeting there about his kid might work in my favor. “Get the bag and get changed.” I look at her stricken expression and roll my eyes. “He’s dead, he’s not going to bite.”
“Maybe I’m not sick in the head like you, Sir, and I don’t want to go near him.”
“You just fucked me next to the body and came all over my cock. It didn’t bother you then.”
She turns a pasty color and spins, hurrying over to snatch the bag. She marches back to me, her chin raised in defiance. “Everything off?”
“Now there’s a way to avoid punishment. Do a strip tease.”
“I’m not…” She looks up at me, all anxious eyes. “Please don’t make me, Sir.”
Fuck, I love how she turns on a dime like that. Snapping, snarling, breathing fire, and hurling sarcasm to little girl lost and soft Sirs.
I relent. “Just get changed, keep the underwear on.”
She pulls off the top and pants and puts on the short dress that clings to her like a second skin. It cuts so low and wide in the front that her bra’s on display. The skirt is short enough that anyone sitting opposite her will get a nice view. Hence the fucking lingerie.
My job tonight is to check out a player who’ll be at the poker game we’re going to, but it’s also another way to reinforce just how slimy JM is, how powerful. Drive home the idea that this man is the one who can save or sink her family.
And it’s all in a way where I win her despite herself and her family. They’ll trust a criminal over a shadowy Obsidian Knight. One’s familiar, the other? Who I really am? I’ll fucking scare them into silence if they knew.
“Shoes.”
She slips off the sneakers and puts on the hooker heels. I pick up the bag. I’ll toss it into the water when we leave.
“Malone?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you bring me here? It’s not like you need me to help, and if it’s to scare me, then I’m already scared. I don’t need… this.” She waves her hand in the direction of the dead guy. “You’re a bad man, a dangerous one. Proven it. And you’re all that stands between disaster and safety for my family?—”
