The Contract (Nightlong #1) (26 page)

“I could investigate the PO Box Roman was going to send the cash to. If it is a box at a local Post Office centre, the perpetrator will likely try to bribe another client but use the same box for the drop. Our thief won’t check the box during daylight hours, they’d arrive early or late, maybe even disguised. If instead he organised for the PO Box to re-route to a residential address, I’d have to hack the Royal Mail database for that and I could get caught. Worse, imprisoned.”

I pulled back. “Why do you keep treating this person like they’re you? Like they’d do all the same things as you?”

“I don’t know… it’s just, I imagine maybe they’ve watched me, and learned that way. While I was away from you, I tried everything to catch this person, but found the way barred each time. I tried to locate some of the IPs on our old machines and when I found signals, I went to the locations only to find empty offices or flats. He knew I was trying to track him and digitally re-routed the tracking to empty spaces where he knew I’d find nothing.”

“Maybe he wanted you to track him? Maybe, in a weird way, he wants you to chase him… until eventually, you find him. Otherwise why use the same computers? He should really download all the good stuff from them, transfer them to USB and then dump the PCs, surely?”

He peered at me through his long brown lashes. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“What?”

“Who I’ll find on the other end. I don’t know if I want to know.”

“You might need to know?”

“I might.”

LATER that night, we laid in bed together watching the stars. We’d had dinner in bed which Dante hated but I’d insisted and he let it go. Without the possibility of making love, it seemed all there was to do was talk.

“Did you frequent domme houses in London to pick up the best ones for this place?”

He sniffed. “Yes.”

“So you never really liked to be dominated?”

“That’s not quite accurate.”

“What?” I peered at him.

“I didn’t like it, before you,” he squirmed, “because me admitting I’m sexually submissive might have made people mistake me for a submissive in real life, too.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t want to scare you off… or face judgement.”

“Oh.” I rolled to my side and stared at his profile as he laid in just his boxers, watching the starry night above. He avoided my eyes and I could tell he was uncomfortable about this conversation.

“Ciara,” he sighed, thinking through his next words, “I’m a switch, okay? Do you know what one of those is?”

“Yes. You can swap between dominant or submissive.”

“Yes… and you’re not submissive, did you know that?”

“No!”

“Well.”

Hating to admit he was right – that I despised being tied down, tied up, blindfolded or gagged – I kept quiet.

“They have a much better life here,” he said. “Shay and I find them, rescue them. They go off sometimes to become doctors, teachers… whatever. Sometimes their earnings here pay for a year or two’s tuition elsewhere.”

“I agree. It’s much more upmarket than Miss Lindy’s… so I don’t know why you didn’t bring me here, too?”

He pursed his lips and took a deep breath. “I could have, but then Shay would have got her claws in you and tried to persuade you I’m beyond salvation.”

I chuckled lightly. “Maybe you are beyond salvation, but maybe I don’t care. Every moment I get to love you is a worthwhile moment.”

He turned and rolled on his side too, cupping my cheek. “See, that’s just another reason why I love you. You talk sense.”

I smiled like any woman in denial would smile, with too much enthusiasm considering everything that had taken place.

“The girls can leave whenever they want. I don’t have them under strict contract, either. Their lives here are better. Some wait until they’ve made enough money to go back to the city and they set up their own gig. Some say goodbye to this life forever. All I know is it’s safe here; the men know we have strict rules and anyway, they wouldn’t dare disobey. They don’t come here to cause trouble, it’s all very civilised compared to some establishments. You were lucky to get in with Miss Lindy in fact, because other places wouldn’t have treated you so well.”

“I know that.”

It was Trixy who took me there and she was sound, so I knew she would never work anywhere dodgy.

“But it’s like… it’s like you made yourself seem like a monster to me, and I feel like I wasted so many years waiting for you.”

“Ciara,” he said softly, “I was trying desperately to protect you. Look what’s happened, a dozen people are dead because of me. I honestly don’t see myself being able to go on without trying to catch the bastard. My conscience won’t let me live without finding out.”

“Maybe there’s someone who can help?”

“Yeah, who?”

“Don’t get mad with me.”

“I won’t,” he said, blinking slowly.

“Your dad.”

I was unconsciously rubbing my belly in circles and he took over rubbing it. “You could be right.”

“You said it yourself, you and he are very similar. Two minds are better than one. Maybe there’s something you have overlooked. Some detail that might shed light on how this could be connected to Daltrey’s death… hmm?”

He picked his mobile phone off the nightstand and dialled someone.

“Sexton, I need you to call Elstree and ask them to charter the jet… as soon as possible… Las Vegas… or any nearby airports. Yes… I think so… no, I don’t know… do that, thanks.”

He hung up and I asked, “Was he asking after me?”

“Yes.”

“Did he drive you to the shops today?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you never drive yourself?”

“I’m banned, Ciara.”

“Banned?” I laughed.

“Banned. For speeding my Maserati down the motorway.”

“Tut, tut, tut…” I giggled.

“Well… it’s built for speed.”

“You still have it?”

“No.”

“That’s a shame.”

“My ban’s lifted in a couple of years. We’ll get another then. There may even be flying cars soon, Ciara.”

“There might be.” I grabbed his face to mine and kissed him. He seemed like such a boy sometimes.

WE TOUCHED DOWN AT MCCARRAN International a couple of days later, just Dante and me. Seeing as though he couldn’t drive, we picked up a rental car under my name. Sexton had remained at home, refusing to go anywhere near Sinclair Senior. Maybe we were endangering ourselves, maybe we were safer there than anywhere – we didn’t know yet. It was a chance we were both willing to take.

I followed the satnav’s directions to a place Dante had punched in. He sat in the passenger seat chewing his nails and I tried to make chitchat.

“I mostly drove tractors at home but it sort of prepares you for anything. Even driving abroad. If you can drive one of those, you can drive anything. This automatic is a piece of piss compared to diffs and all that.”

“Yeah…?” He mumbled, not really listening.

“Are you nervous?”

“You won’t like my father, I’ll warn you beforehand.”

“Well, I didn’t think I would, but we’re not here for a family reunion or anything are we?”

“No.”

The SUV we’d hired kicked up a lot of dust from the country roads and I dreaded the heat outside the vehicle, the air conditioning blowing like crazy to keep me cool. Warm weather didn’t suit me… or my short hair.

“What’s the plan? Speak with him and leave? What?”

“We’ll have to stay in the city tonight. I doubt there are any hotels near his brothel.”

We were headed deep outside Clark County, sixty miles west of Vegas, to a place called Pahrump.

“What sort of place does he have?”

Waiting for his answer, I stared down at my engagement ring, glittering hot against the sunshine pouring through the windscreen as I held the steering wheel. Dante had recovered it for me from a place he was staying at outside of London while he was investigating the murders. I still didn’t know exactly what he’d found out during his absence that he obviously didn’t want to tell me about.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been. Mum gave me this address and he could likely turn us away.”

“Oh.”

“Stop saying oh, Ciara.”

“Aggravated, much?” I challenged him.

“Just say what you mean. Don’t say
oh
like you feel sorry for me or something.”

“Well, I can’t help it… he seems like a complete fuck who messed you up big style.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

Dante shook his shirt away from his skin, sweating even in the freezing air con. He looked handsome wearing a sky-blue polo shirt, navy board shorts, leather flip flops and aviator shades. I was cool enough in my floral summer dress with gladiator sandals and a pair of Ray Bans.

When we eventually arrived and pulled up at a place called
Day Care
, I thought we’d took a wrong turn but from the foul look on Dante’s face, we hadn’t.

I locked the vehicle and we left it in the parking lot, crossing a car park which even had marked bays. A few other cars were parked in the lot and on the main road running by us, the odd truck passed by. About two miles north was the nearest town, this was definitely out of town.

“Deep breaths,” I reminded him as we buzzed the door and waited.

“Good afternoon, how may we help you?” a voice asked.

“I’m here to see Mr Sinclair. Tell him Dante’s here, would you?”

“Certainly, sir,” an American voice told us before crackling out of focus.

“Remember, we’re here for information.”

“Yes,” he said, biting his lip.

A minute later, the voice returned and said, “Welcome. Room 14, if you please.”

The front door buzzed open and Dante shoved it inwards to let us inside.

We entered a corridor with cheap linoleum on the floor and cracked paint on the walls.

Walking past mostly shut doors, we didn’t hear much at all, except when I saw a couple of rooms labelled
Baby Change
and
Feeding Room
I sort of got the picture what this place was – a nursery for grown men.

“Gross,” I muttered.

“It’s actually not as bad as I thought. Back in the day, he was into much scarier shit.”

We came to the end of one corridor and followed an arrow which told us rooms 11-24 were to the left. Outside 14, Dante pounded on the door and we heard, “Come right in.”

We entered the room to be welcomed by a sight I was unprepared for. His father sat in a chair with his back to us and some blonde was busy bouncing up and down on his lap.

The blonde looked at me and he noticed she was put off, but demanded, “Kirsty, don’t displease me.”

I looked across at Dante whose whole demeanour stiffened. He stood rooted to the spot and couldn’t move. He seemed a hair’s breadth away from going crazy.

The blonde finished Mr Sinclair off with a grunt and she pulled herself off his lap, tugging her tight skirt back down her legs. Embarrassed, she left the room quickly as Sinclair Senior did up his zip and belt.

He stood up and turned to look at us, surprised to see me stood by Dante’s side. His eyes grew intrigued and I saw nothing of Dante in this man despite them sharing DNA.

Looking at me, he said, “Dick Sinclair, pleasure to meet you…?”

He strode towards me and tried to kiss my cheek but I leapt back. Dick was old and grey… stank like an ashtray and a liquor store combined. He wore a scruffy Hawaiian shirt and creased lounge pants. He was a mess.

“Come on, now,” he asked, pursuing that kiss. “Tell me your name at least.”

“Dante,” I said, a revealing displeasure in my tone.

Dante moved so fast even I didn’t see him coming. He grabbed his father by the collars of his shirt and lifted him right off the ground.

“You piece of shit,” he spat, saliva flying to the floor, “you touch her and I swear to god, I will end you.”

“Good to see you too, son,” Dick managed to say, gasping for air.

“Try to touch Cleo again and I swear I will fuck you up.”

Dick nodded briefly and Dante let him down. “Still practising Krav Maga, boy? Well, you did always have a bad temper.”

“Don’t call me boy, you bastard.”

I sensed we’d made a wasted trip and I hated that thought – so I knew I had to play mediator somewhat.

“We’re here because we need help, Dick,” I said, gasping, “will you just listen to what Dante has to say and pack it in trying to kiss me before I belt you one myself.”

“Irish?” he said with a chuckle. “Feisty too eh, son?”

“Shut your mouth and stop salivating over her like a disgusting, starved dog,” Dante bit back, coming to my defence. “Pot bellied and spoiled is what you are!”

Dante grunted like a beast and I realised when the red mist clouded his judgment, he was no doubt capable of violence. I saw he hated his father with a passion and wouldn’t even think twice about ending him.

Dick gestured at the seating area where he’d just been and from a drinks cabinet, produced a glass of bourbon for himself. Both Dante and myself declined his offer of a tipple and sat on a two-seat couch which, for all we knew, was contaminated by all sorts of bodily fluids. Right then though, Dante needed to sit down before he smashed something with his fury.

Dick returned to his armchair where we’d earlier found him and drank hearty mouthfuls of bourbon from a tall tumbler.

“So, come on then. How can I help?”

“We just thought two heads would be better than one,” I reasoned.

“Yeah?” Dick asked, mockingly surprised.

“Yeah.” Dante shrugged.

“I’m flattered but as you can tell, I’m retired from real life and don’t really give a shit about anything outside of this place.” He drank more bourbon and lit up a cigar, which smelt gross. I was glad the air con was mostly sucking the smoke away.

I caught a sideways look at Dante who was looking down at his lap, trying to control his fury. All I saw in Dick was a man grieving for his eldest child. He and Dante were the same there, unable to let go of their grief.

Dick spied the ring on my finger for the first time and didn’t say anything. Instead he looked thoughtful for a while.

“So, what’s happened?”

Dante cleared his throat. “After Daltrey, I was a mess but began to see a way of trying to find out more about a case the police deemed fit to close, no evidence to follow up. So I used the dungeon Barlow left me to start gathering secrets… using them not in excess, but sparingly. I gathered the country’s top hackers around me to lead a fixing team, to gain contacts, build networks.”

Drinking down more liquor, Dick muttered, “Yes, your mother told me as much… but for the life of me, I don’t see how this work could help you find out anything about the cunt who killed my boy. It was a random attack. Had to have been. Who the hell could
my son
have crossed to get himself killed? Everybody loved him.”

Dante folded his hands together and briefly glanced at me. “Before he died, Daltrey had made it clear he wanted me out. He was going to expose Pernox so that the business would go down. He thought, in his naïve, good way, he could save me from the same sort of lifestyle you inhabit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” his father bellowed, his knuckles white as he gripped his glass and cigar.

Dante touched his head, like he had a headache. “I was a mess when he died. I couldn’t think through anything logically, not until a while after. I remember a few days before he copped it, us arguing about the club and him threatening to become whistleblower. Things had been bad between us for months. I never thought about his threats again… until a few months after his death. I was a foolish young man unaware of the danger I faced, unaware how many people relied on Pernox for kicks, for their pay checks, for the sake of their sanity even. I couldn’t… I couldn’t see clearly. What seemed like a private conversation between two brothers might not have been, I just don’t know.”

Dick stood up and started pacing the room.

“You should have told me this, too,” I mumbled.

“I know but if we do have a murderer in our midst at Pernox, you wouldn’t have agreed to go there, would you?”

I stood and stared down at him, screaming, “How did you know I wouldn’t get killed?”

“Why? Because as far as anyone knows, you are just another domme and mean nothing to me. I mean come on, all any of them still see is what I used to be. None of them believe you really mean anything to me. Not one. They still don’t see that I’ve changed.”

Shaking my head, I spat, “I’ll take that drink now, Dick.”

“I’m not the only one driven to it, then?” the elder Sinclair said, pouring one for me too. While we drank our drinks, Dante continued…

“I built my agency for two reasons. The first, to combat injustices. My hackers had the power to gain evidence ordinary investigators can’t and so if a high court judge was presented with it in private, how could he or she possibly live with himself or herself knowing they were sending an innocent person to jail? We’ve dealt with at least a dozen high-profile cases like this in the past; set-ups, conspiracies. It’s what my agency is known for. I police the police and the lawless, too. Secondly, bugging Pernox has enabled me to watch the clients… overhear them, even. Some pour their hearts out to the girls who’ve all signed NDAs. Some of them are politicians, some doctors, lawyers, detectives… you name it. The true elite. Nobody but my team knew I’d bugged the damn place with the most sophisticated equipment known to man. Aside from me, who would have anything to lose in Pernox closing down, only the clients or an employee… someone we service must have overheard Daltrey’s threats… some zealot of Pernox… and this person set out to shoot him. Everything I’ve been doing for the past ten years is for Daltrey or because of him. I’m trying to be a good man, I really am.”

Dick turned to me, looking tired. “Does he always take this long to get to the point?”

I smiled a little even though I hated that he could never give his son a compliment, not even a morsel of congratulation.

“My team all recently got shot.”

Dick leaned forward. “What? Your mother never mentioned that.”

“Twelve souls.”

Dick chewed his nail, shaking his head. “When?”

“Couple of weeks ago.”

“What do you know so far?”

“You and Mum are both still alive so I knew immediately it wasn’t about revenge, it was about stealing my business from under me.”

“How the hell did this even happen?” Dick barked.

“We were in Paris like we often are. Only recently though, we started taking long weekends. I should’ve taken extra precautions, put better gates in… I don’t know, done something… but I never imagined someone would kill them all.”

“They killed everyone, I mean…?”

“I know,” Dante sulked, head in his hands.

“Twelve, you say?”

“Twelve, yes. Twelve unknowns, but still twelve souls.”

“What else?” Dick asked.

“One of my clients at the agency was a friend so we met up with him and he said there’d been demands for more money. The way he paid had also changed. He was told to send cash to a PO Box address. Teddy dropped a few hints about high-paying clients so I knew he knew something he couldn’t tell me. Like one of his detective friends slid him some info. So, I sent a–”