Disruptor (16 page)

“Of course not.” Sean’s usual casual disdain
turned into something darker, uglier. “Heaven forbid you get off
your ass and do anything useful with yourself.”

Kevin froze. “This again.”

“You changed your major five times in college
and barely graduated. Spent half a season as a ski instructor in
Banff before getting fired. Left our father’s wake early so you
could get drunk with your useless friends. You’ve never held down a
job for more than a few months because you have a trust fund
provided by someone else’s hard work.”

A cold, blistering anger stabbed Kevin, along
with guilt. “What exactly is your fucking problem?”

“You study languages but never get good
enough to be fluent in them. You pretend to read the Applied
Sciences reports but never get involved. You write checks for
charities you know nothing about. You dabble in one thing after
another, skip from one brief relationship to another.”

“You want me to start getting approval for
how I spend my time? What I’m allowed to be interested in?”

“I want you to be an adult. Apply yourself to
something, see it through. Stop being a dilettante and make a
commitment.”

The words washed through Kevin in a sickening
wave. “You really don’t respect me at all, do you?”

“When have you ever done anything to earn my
respect?”

“Get out.”

Awareness flashed across Sean’s face, as if
he’d just then realized what he’d said. “Kevin, look.”

“Let me put it to you a different way. Get
the fuck out. Now.”

Sean looked like he wanted to say something
but Priyanka burst into the office waving a folder. “I’m got that
report for you, Mr. Moynihan.” She nodded in Sean’s direction but
didn’t make eye contact. “Other Mr. Moynihan.”

Sean ignored her. He turned on his heel and
left abruptly without another word.

Priyanka edged the door closed. “Oh God. Are
you okay? I left my desk for, like, a minute.”

“I’m fine,” Kevin lied. “It’s nothing he
hasn’t said before. He’s just not usually quite so pissy about
it.”

She tilted her face down and raised one
eyebrow. “That wasn’t pissy, that was vicious. Are you sure you’re
okay?”

He didn’t want to answer, because he just
might tell the truth. “What’s in the folder?”

“Eh.” She waved the slim black folder.
“Takeout menus.”

Kevin nodded. “Order me some Chinese, would
you please?”

She sighed as she crossed her arms. “Yeah.
Sure thing.” She returned to the outer office, mercifully closing
the door behind her.

As soon as the latch clicked Kevin leaned
over, head between his knees. He took slow, deep breaths until his
stomach no longer felt like it was doing somersaults.
Don’t
throw up. Ah shit.

Not even the drunk and disorderly arrest and
subsequent community service had brought out that level of disgust
from Sean. Kevin wanted to be angry. God, he really wanted a hit of
righteous anger right now. It didn’t come. Instead, shame snaked
through him. Sean may have been an asshole about the way he said
it, but he wasn’t wrong to call his younger brother a dilettante.
One of the things Kevin had plenty of was self-awareness. He knew
he’d been coasting on his trust fund, his family’s name, his own
charm and good looks.

So what did he have to offer the world? He
could throw himself into working fulltime at Moynihan Consolidated
but that would never make him happy. It would never mean anything.
Could a rich, pretty boy, dilettante like him ever amount to
anything meaningful?

Kevin was afraid he knew the answer.

A new, better-fitting ski mask covered Dani’s
face. Kevin had that and a few other things waiting for her when
she came downstairs. It was getting too warm for gloves but the
ones he gave her were thin and supple and hopefully wouldn’t impede
the use of her hands. They would keep her from leaving fingerprints
behind, a fact he’d reminded her of when she’d tried to leave them
at the penthouse.

A few more odds and ends were tucked into the
jacket of his she still wore. He hadn’t supplied her with a
replacement and she hadn’t asked. Now was not the time to think
about that, or anything to do with Kevin.

She had her mind on another man.

Belmont suffered from the same poverty as the
rest of the South Side, but it did have one different quality. It
looked and felt more like a community working to hold itself
together. People were out long after dark, sitting on front stoops
and gathered on streets and broken sidewalks, talking, drinking,
laughing. She’d had to keep to the shadows to avoid detection.
Dirty South wasn’t hard to find. It wasn’t the only nightlife
around, but it looked to be the best. Bouncers covered the front
entrance and enough people milled around the area that slipping in
another door was too much of a risk. The building next door stood a
floor higher than the club. She could make that jump easy.

She landed harder than she meant to and
rolled to a stop. Quickly, she hustled to the west side of the
building where a rusty fire escape led halfway to the ground. At
the top floor was a narrow window. A nice jab with her elbow would
have done the job but she was glad to find it unlocked. With a
mental push, she turned on her night vision. Nothing stirred beyond
the window. Boxes were stacked neatly along one wall. There was a
door with a glass inset and no light coming through it. Also no
visible security cameras.

Carefully, quietly, Dani worked the window
open then slid through it. She dropped to the floor in a crouch and
didn’t move, listening for signs of a guard. After a full minute of
waiting, she made her way to the door. Nothing moved in the
hallway. She dialed up her hearing. Sounds from the main floor came
to her, a susurrus of nondescript party noise underneath a layer of
hip-hop.

The door creaked when she opened it, the
hinges sounding like they hadn’t been oiled in forever. She froze,
waiting. If anybody else was on this floor, they didn’t hear the
door. The hallway led to a dark set of stairs. The floor below was
lit by a bare red bulb hanging from the ceiling and had three
closed doors. All were locked and sounded empty. The end of the
hall opened into a landing with a view of the club. Dani stayed low
and stuck to the edge of the wall, raising her head just enough to
be able to see.

The place was packed, the dancefloor full of
writhing bodies and the bar three deep. A deejay held court at a
tiny stage, head bobbing in time with the music. Not the deejay she
was looking for, though. She scanned the crowded room for him. The
customers were primarily African-American with a sprinkling of
Latino. Only a very few white faces were evident. Every time Dani
spotted a white woman she stared hard until she was sure it wasn’t
one of the Russians.

Finally DJ Housecat made an appearance. The
club had a Twitter account, as did its owner, so it had been no
problem for her to find a picture of him. He stood near the
entrance now, towering over those near him. The music changed to
something with a driving, funky beat and lyrics about a king named
Kunta. Dani found herself nodding along in rhythm as she watched
Housecat work the room. Well over six feet tall, he had
panty-dropping good looks with dark brown skin, a flashing smile,
and eyes that missed nothing. Wide shoulders and a massive physique
added to the appealing package. The man was made of muscle and
charisma. He greeted people like beloved royalty meeting his
subjects, shaking hands, bumping fists, kissing cheeks. Everyone
who wanted a moment with him got it, but not too long. He moved
smoothly through the crowd until he’d reached the bottom of the
landing.

Dani scurried back to the hallway, wishing
she was tall enough to unscrew that light bulb. Breaking it was too
risky. Flattened against a doorway, she listened with her enhanced
hearing as Housecat spoke to an underling. Club business, nothing
she cared about. Then he mounted the steps alone and she thanked
her lucky stars. On silent feet she raced to the end of the hall,
hiding around the corner as he strolled to one of the doors.
Unlocking it, he stepped inside, flipped on a light and left the
door open.

His back was to her when she entered the
room. From his stance – arms up, head down – she guessed he was
looking at his phone. She closed the door. He cocked his head to
one side, moving just enough to see her black-clad form in his
peripheral vision.

Dani raised one hand, palm out and facing
him. “I just want to talk.”

Housecat moved fast, grabbing her wrist and
jerking her forward with one hand while the other tossed his phone
to his desk and formed a fist. Dani wrapped both hands around his
thick wrist and twisted his arm to an unnatural angle, slamming him
face-down on the desk.

“The fuck you think you’re doing,” he
snarled.

“I just want to talk.” She put pressure on
his arm, eliciting more swearing. Then she made a point of showing
him she could hold him in place with just one hand. “Don’t give me
a reason to beat the crap out of you, because I will.” She decided
to take a chance and release him.

He righted himself quickly, holding his
wrist. “You got about ten seconds before I crack your head
open.”

Dani grinned. “I’m stronger than you, faster
than you, and I know all kinds of way to make a man hurt. So let’s
just talk, okay.”

Housecat gaped at her. “Who the fuck are
you?”

She raised her phone so he could see the
screen, which showed the latest on the Cabrini Ghost hashtag.

With narrowed eyes he stared at the phone
then her. No disbelief, no protest. Her heart sped up. Had one of
the girls found her way to Belmont? He said nothing, so she lowered
her phone and opened another app. “These girls are in danger.
They’re Russian. I was told girls looking to get away from the
Russians in Lincoln Heights might be able to find a little safety
here.” She raised the phone again and scrolled through the pictures
slowly, giving him a chance to take a good look.

“Those aren’t photos,” he said.

“I had an artist draw them.” Dani glanced at
the last picture. “She was found dead. Murdered. I think somebody
didn’t like losing what they thought of as their property.”

He took in a sharp breath. “What do you
want?”

“Make sure the girls are safe. Stop the
killer.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into, do
you?”

“No.” She put her phone away and sat on the
edge of his desk. “Tell me.”

“Take that mask off and I might.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Then get out.”

Dani tilted her head, one hand drawing into a
fist.

“Show your face or get out.” Housecat
chuckled. “I ain’t afraid of no ghost.”

She groaned inwardly. “Just for the record, I
hate that name.”

“Then why do you call yourself that?”

“I don’t. Other people do.”

“So pick one you do like.
After
you
get your ass out of my club.” He swept out one massive arm, fist
aimed at her head. She ducked and rolled away from the desk. One
well-placed kick brought him down. Housecat was big, easily twice
her size, but he was no match for her enhanced strength and
speed.

“I just want to help these girls,” she said.
“Make sure they’re safe.”

“Then don’t be flashing pictures of them all
over the South Side! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He stayed on
the floor but pulled himself into a sitting position, forearms
resting on his raised knees.

Dani took a step back, stunned. The last
thing she’d wanted to do was put those girls in even more danger.
Had she done that just by searching for them?

“You go running around Cabrini, beating up
muggers and shit. You think that means anything? You think it helps
people?” Housecat stood, and this time the height difference made
her feel small. Or maybe it was his words. “There’s always some
other bad guy. You take out one of those Russian bastards, there’s
ten more to take his place before the body is cold.
Ghost
is
a good name for you, girl. You might make some noise and get a few
people talking, but you ain’t nothing but smoke and you can’t touch
anything. You can’t change anything. So get the hell up out of my
club and out of my neighborhood.”

Words of protest clogged in her throat. She
wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she could help people. But
hell, hadn’t she been trying to avoid that very thing since
practically her first night in Cabrini? How many times had she
thought to herself, I’m never doing this again? Every night,
sometimes several times a night. But she kept doing it anyway. A
scream, a cry for help, and she’d take off running toward it.

But nothing changed. Those cries for help
kept coming, night after night after night. The futility of her
meager actions kicked her in the teeth, made her choke on her own
delusions. Because the truth was, she wasn’t running toward those
cries so she could help people. She was running away from the
screams that filled her nightmares. She ran to help herself, and
that was no way to help anybody.

Dani ran now, away from this stranger who’d
seen her ugly truth. She left the club behind and hit the streets,
running flat out, not caring who saw her, or where she wound up.
Even if someone saw her, she couldn’t touch them and they couldn’t
touch her. She was a ghost, an empty echo. She ran, and she ran,
but she couldn’t outrun the screaming in her head, and she couldn’t
outrun her own self-hatred. She ran until her lungs ached and her
muscles burned.

She ran until she reached the Lee Street
shelter and Kevin’s car parked in the alley. She slumped against
the wall, bent over with her hands on her knees and gulping air. At
some point she’d removed the ski mask and shoved it into a pocket.
Her hair fell around her in a cloud of tangles, dimming the
security light at the mouth of the alley. The minutes ticked by and
her body recovered quickly from the exertion. The tattered shreds
of what used to be her heart or maybe her soul or whatever should
have been the best part of her – that wasn’t so lucky.