Chapter 692
Chapter 692:
“What rumors p>
“There’s a new game in town,” Alistair said. “High-tech gambling machines. Unregulated. Kids are losing their tuition money in hours. And worse… people are disappearing p>
My phone buzzed on the desk.
It was Mason Clarke, the head of our talent acquisition for the new entertainment division.
“Skye,” Mason’s voice was tight with panic. “I have a problem. Three of our top trainees didn’t show up for rehearsal today. I called their parents. They haven’t been home in two days p>
“Did you track their phones?” I asked, my eyes locking with Alistair’s.
“Last ping was in Haven City,” Mason said. “Near the Neon Abyss p>
I hung up the phone. A cold knot formed in my stomach. Money laundering I could handle. Missing kids? That was a different beast.
“I’m going,” I told Alistair. “Those are my people p>
Alistair sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect style. “I knew you’d say that. Liam is tied up at the Manor overseeing the installation of the new perimeter sensors. He can’t break away p>
“I don’t need a babysitter, Alistair p>
“No,” he agreed. “You need a partner.” He pushed off the desk. “Go change. You can’t walk into the Neon Abyss wearing a Chanel blazer. You’ll get mugged in the parking lot p>
I went into the adjoining lounge where I kept my emergency wardrobe. I bypassed the evening gowns and business suits. I pulled out a pair of distressed leather pants, a sheer mesh top, and a heavy motorcycle jacket. I added a pair of combat boots that gave me two inches of height and a lot of weight behind my kick.
I applied heavy eyeliner, smudging it for that “I haven’t slept in two days” look, and pulled on a short, jagged black wig.
When I stepped back into the office, Alistair paused. His eyes swept over me, lingering for a second too long on the mesh top.
𝖶еe𝗄𝗅𝘺 𝘳е𝘭e𝘢𝘀e𝘴 𝘰𝗇 𝗯𝗲.с𝗈m
“Well,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “that brings back memories. You look like Black Rose p>
“Don’t call me that,” I warned, tossing him a denim jacket I’d dug out of the bottom of the closet. “Put this on. You look too much like a billionaire p>
Alistair put on the jacket. It was tight across his shoulders, straining the fabric. He tugged at the collar, roughing it up slightly to make it look worn.
“Let’s go,” he said.
We took my secondary car, an old muscle car I kept for occasions when I didn’t want to be tracked. The engine growled as we peeled out of the garage.
The drive to Haven City was a descent into chaos. The manicured streets of the financial district gave way to cracked pavement and flickering streetlights.
As we neared the designated rendezvous point a few blocks from the Neon Abyss, I saw a familiar figure pacing nervously under a broken streetlight.
“Is that Parker?” Alistair asked, squinting through the windshield.
It was. And he wasn’t alone.
Sitting in the driver’s seat of a flashy red convertible parked nearby, top down and doors locked, was Victoria Hayes.