Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“How on earth—” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God. Do bones have DNA?”
“They do.” I grin. “Rouge might have been trying to freak you out, but she might have implicated herself in the process.”
“We’d have to get some other sample of Pierce’s DNA to prove it’s a match.” She paces the room. “Maybe he was a blood donor or something.”
“We’ll figure it out, babe. But grab those drumsticks and lock them away somewhere in your dressing room. Somewhere Rouge would never think to look for them.”
“I got it.” She flies out the door.
I’m glad Bianca is feeling better. I’m good at soothing her, turns out.
I just wish I was as good at soothing myself.
Because I’m fucking haunted right now.
Bones. A man’s bones were removed from his body and carved into a set of drumsticks.
At this point, I shouldn’t be shocked. At least with the organ harvesting, another life is being saved. It might be the life of one of Rouge’s degenerate friends, but still, the organ serves a greater purpose. With these bones, though… A man’s corpse was defiled just to send a fucking message.
But with a little luck, it may be Rouge’s undoing.
I hope that’s the case.
Or else Bianca’s and my bones will end up on that stage right next to Pierce’s.
Things are wrapping up at Aces. The bulk of the patrons left around midnight, and now just a few stragglers sit at the bar in Spades, with a couple more sitting in Clubs, high off their minds, I’m sure. Bianca’s finished up her final set and her band is packing away their instruments.
Rouge didn’t show up the whole night.
I can’t believe our luck.
She almost always makes an appearance at Aces every night it’s open, at least as far as I can remember. Even if she had an engagement at another club, she always pops in, usually at the least opportune moment.
Maybe she was here, and I didn’t notice.
But I would have felt her presence. Her aura of menace. It clings to her like stink to a wet dog.
Of course, the night ending at Aces is just the beginning for us.
My spending the night serving patrons as the Ace of Clubs is just a pretext to get me back on the bus to the Caterpillar Hotel. Keep an eye on Jack from now until the end of the night.
Then my heart sinks.
There’s a very good reason Rouge wouldn’t be here tonight.
Rose’s injury.
Her main confidante—the man who carries out some of her dirty work in secret—currently has a pen sticking out of his eye. By now, it’s probably been removed by a doctor. He might make a full recovery, but he’ll likely lose sight in his eye.
One fewer eye to look at me lecherously, I guess.
Rouge would certainly fly to his side, and it won’t take a deductive mastermind to figure out that Bianca and I were the last ones in the room before the paramedics were called. She’ll be able to connect the dots. She already knows I’ve been poking around about Maddox, but now her sister will be implicated as well.
Fuck!
The whole time this was going on, the one thing that kept me calm was that if I went down trying to make Rouge face justice, at least Bianca would be okay.
That’s no longer the case.
I should have just killed him. Left his body in his office and locked the door on the way out. That would have at least bought us a few extra hours.
I take a deep breath, try to ease my pounding heartbeat.
Right now I have to focus exclusively on the task at hand. If we can save Jack, we can find a way to pin this all on Rouge. Then everything else will fade into the background.
But one thing is clear.
We’ve got one shot to make this work. No mistakes, no fuckups.
So I’m locking in.
Not concerning myself with what Rouge may or may not be figuring out on her own.
I spend a few minutes helping the other cards with cleanup. Some of them have already changed into T-shirts and athletic shorts, but I have no idea where they got them. I’ll stick out on the bus if I’m still in these booty shorts.
“Ace,” a soft voice whistles into my ear.
Mr. Night. I turn to him, bow my head.
“I assume you’ll be taking the bus back tonight?”
I nod slowly.
“Excellent. You’ll want to grab a spare T-shirt and shorts from the supply closet then.” He points a bony finger toward a gray door between Clubs and Diamonds.
I mouth the words, “thank you,” and then move to the closet. I grab a white T-shirt. It’s a little tight, but it’ll do. I find a boxy pair of shorts and slip them on, pulling the drawstring to keep them on my slim waistline.
While I’m in there, I grab a vacuum cleaner. I’ll plug it in and look busy until the rest of the cards begin piling onto the bus.