Chapter 13

chapter

thirteen

Gage wasn’t sure he should be bringing Nia with him to question this Darius guy.

On the other hand, he needed to figure out her motive. Needed to find evidence to seal the deal that she was the killer.

But he was curious also about this Darius guy . . . as well as about Brittany.

Why hadn’t Rob mentioned Brittany to Gage? It still seemed strange and suspicious within itself.

However, his friend had seemed both anxious and happy lately. A strange combination, but Gage supposed it just depended on which moment he was talking to Rob.

One day, Rob would be talking about the amazing opportunities before him. The next day, he’d sound downcast as he fretted over new ideas and what he wanted to do with them.

He’d had amazing success with Water Splat. He’d been developing another app for the past several months. The last time Gage had spoken with him, Rob had a third idea he wanted to pursue, one he was really excited about.

He hadn’t shared any details with Gage, though.

All he’d said was, “Big decisions. I have big decisions to make.”

Gage hadn’t asked what exactly that meant. He figured he’d find out when he came here to visit. Now it was too late. Whatever those big ideas were that Rob was working on, Gage might never know.

The cab pulled to a stop in front of Avenue 12, and he and Nia stepped out.

They paused on the sidewalk, and Gage stared at the club’s simple black sign with the cursive letters above a set of tinted glass doors. A brute of a man slipped inside, which led Gage to again question whether or not he should have let Nia come with him.

But why should he feel protective of her if she was a killer?

His thoughts collided inside him. He knew they didn’t make sense. But they were there, nonetheless.

He and Nia were here, so he’d need to make the most of this situation.

“You ready for this?” he asked Nia quietly.

She stared at the building, trepidation in her gaze. Finally, she nodded. “I am.”

They walked to the door, and the brute stepped out. He crossed his arms as he blocked them. As he did, his jacket moved, revealing a gun tucked into a holster near his shoulder.

“We’re closed,” the man announced.

“I’m hoping to talk to Darius,” Gage said. “It’s important.”

“About what?” the man growled.

“A personal matter.”

The bouncer only grunted. “You’re going to need to do better than that. Either you have an appointment or you leave.”

Nia stepped closer, an easy smile plastered on her face. “I’m wondering if you all are looking for any investors here at Avenue 12. I’m interested. Very interested.”

“Who are you?”

“Nia Anderson with The Anderson Group.”

The bouncer stared at her a moment before touching something on a headset at his ear and mumbling into it.

Gage tried not to be impressed with Nia. But he was.

Nia had been calm and cool under pressure.

Just like any good killer might be, he supposed. And, for that matter, she was a far better actress than he would have guessed.

The bouncer turned back to them. “He’ll see you.”

Gage let out his breath.

Nia’s excuse had worked. Now they would need to go inside and sell it.

He hoped Nia could do that.

Because he was already getting bad vibes from this place .

Dangerous vibes.

And he hoped he wasn’t walking into a trap.

Nia tried to ignore the rumble of nerves sweeping through her as she and Gage stepped inside the club.

The place was dark with red accents and black leather furniture. It smelled like whiskey and expensive cologne—maybe even a touch of Cuban cigars.

This wasn’t a club for teens or the poor.

This was a club for the elite.

It wasn’t the type of establishment she frequented. Even back when she’d been bent on experiencing all the world had to offer, she’d still had her limits.

And this place—though exquisite and rich—had sleazy undertones.

“You don’t have to do this,” Gage murmured in her ear as they walked.

“But I do.”

“Why in the world do you need to do this?”

She didn’t answer, and thankfully Gage didn’t have time to press.

Good . . . because Nia didn’t know what to tell him. If she shared too much, his suspicions might rise. He might not want to work with her to find answers.

The bouncer led them through the dining area and dance floor and around back to where the offices were located.

He opened a door, and they were escorted into a large office. “Mr. Miller . . .”

“Thank you, Cal. Close the door behind you, please.”

Darius Miller sat behind a massive desk. The man was large with broad shoulders and a barrel belly. His head had been shaved, but his thick eyebrows more than made up for his baldness. His pinstripe black suit reminded Nia of a mafia kingpin.

“You wanted to see me?” Darius observed Nia with calculating eyes.

A tremble of fear raked through her.

What if she was staring at Rob’s killer right now? What if he knew who she was? If he was the one who’d set her up and sent her that text?

Maybe she shouldn’t have come here. But it was too late now.

Nia lifted her chin and shifted back into professional mode. She’d stared down competitors. Brokered deals with cold-hearted tycoons. Fought to get ahead in a cut-throat business world.

She introduced herself and her background before going through her spiel about her desire to potentially invest in this place.

She tried to read Darius’s gaze as she spoke, tried to see if there was any recognition there.

Nia wasn’t sure.

He eyed her with a skeptical gaze, smoke from a cigar hanging in the air. “Who sent you here? Or are you telling me you’re just a fan of my club and you decided to stop by uninvited?”

She hesitated a second before saying, “Brittany told me about this place, and it piqued my interest.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Brittany? She hates me. Why would she sing the praises of my club like she only wants the best for me or something?”

The look in the man’s eyes was cold and menacing, and Nia wasn’t sure how to respond.

For a moment, she felt like the proverbial deer stuck in the headlights.

She was all too aware of the bouncer behind her. Of the gun at his waist.

All too aware of how she and Gage were essentially trapped.

Aware of how they’d told no one where they’d be.

And she was all too aware of how she could end up on the floor with a fatal knife wound . . . just like Rob.