Dark Vengeance by Kristi Belcamino

Author:Kristi Belcamino [Belcamino, Kristi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

13

My motorcycle was still out in front of the flop house.

Part of me had worried someone would just wheel it away or pick it up and put it in the back of a truck and take off.

I headed back toward the tourist part of town.

The Palace Hotel was easy to find.

A large red awning hung over the entrance, and a doorman in a suit and chauffeur’s hat stood at attention on the sidewalk. I’d expected a dump, but it actually looked really nice.

I hopped the curb and stopped my motorcycle on the sidewalk. The doorman was not amused.

I gave him my most winning smile.

Nothing.

Straight-faced.

Then he lifted one eyebrow.

“Hi,” I said and reached out my hand to his. “I’m Gia.”

He looked down his nose at my outstretched hand, but he must have spotted the bills I’d palmed there because he stretched out one white-gloved hand to mine. In an instant, he’d tucked his hand, with the money, into a jacket pocket.

“I’m looking for a man who goes by the name X. I was told he often stays here.”

The doorman’s face remained blank.

I tried a different tactic. “What I really need to know is if he had a dark-haired girl with him?”

Nothing.

“She’s his prisoner. Did you see him with a girl?”

The doorman stared past me out at the street, but I saw him give a barely perceptible shake of his head.

Rose wasn’t with X.

“Next question.”

He lifted an eyebrow.

Fuck. I have to pay for every answer?

I held out my hand again. He palmed more money.

“Is X here now? Does he have a room for the night?”

Nothing.

“If he is staying the night here can you blink twice?”

It was absurd, but I didn’t know what else to do.

No expression. No blinking.

“Okay. Just to make sure, if he’s not staying here, can you blink once.”

Slowly he lowered his ridiculously long eyelashes and then opened them again.

“Thanks,” I said and hopped back on my bike.

I was about to start the engine when the doorman spoke in a low voice with his back turned to me.

“He checked out. The maître d made reservations for dinner at Le Coquette. He may still be there.”

“Where is this place?” I asked.

The doorman jutted his chin to the right.

I started the bike’s engine and hopped off the curb, nearly losing my balance as the bike caught on something slick. I steadied myself and the bike and gunned the engine, heading down the street while reading all the neon signs.

Soon, I saw it and slowed to a stop, letting the bike idle across the street.

Nearly a dozen tables were set up on the sidewalk outside. I scanned the diners.

I had no idea what X looked like besides that photo that had been on his nightstand.

But even so, nobody at the restaurant looked even slightly like that man in the photo. I parked my bike and headed inside. I strode past the maître d and headed toward the kitchen in the back, examining the face of every male diner as I passed. Nope.

The maître d was racing behind me, trying to get me to stop, babbling something.

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