Page 64 of Direct Action

Fallon rejoined to field my question, “No, and we asked. Tomorrow I’m going to take Cat and Calista with me to talk to Pamela and see if we can get something from her.”

Smart move taking the women. Both were smart and capable. Cat would put Pamela at ease and get her talking. Calli would find threads and know which ones to pull.

Speaking of Calli. “Where’s Mase?”

Aiden was at the Plank, so I knew he wasn’t there.

“Him and Calli are on a stakeout at the Vault,” Gavin told me through a smile. “At least that’s what Calli’s calling it. Mase is calling it torture, you know how much he hates surveillance. Aiden will switch places with them later.”

“I’ll drop Chloe off tonight and take a shift.”

“That’ll work.” Pete dipped his chin. “I’ll let you work that out and go over the reports. I’m gonna call Shep.”

With that, Pete turned to walk away. Three steps later, he craned his neck over his shoulder. “Don’t listen to my bullshit. You’re right, you need to tell Chloe about Tyson.”

Before I could say anything, I once again had his back and he was striding away with purpose.

“Noel called,” Gavin informed me. “Not that he shared that. I saw her name on his phone before he snatched it off the table.”

Noel Astley.

This wasn’t good.

“Are you shitting me,” I spat. “Did he answer?”

“Nope. But her name coming up on his screen is enough.”

Fuck, but Gavin wasn’t wrong. As far as I knew, it had been years since the bitch had called Pete. The last call had necessitated a bottle of hooch and two hours of sitting around a fire until Pete was drunk enough to open up and let the poison out. Long-lasting poison that Noel had injected going on a decade ago.

There was no point following Pete. He kept his emotions locked up tight. Case in point, if Gavin hadn’t seen the call, none of us would’ve known. He would’ve kept that shit to himself without a flicker of reaction to the pain she still caused.

“We’ll get this done, then come up here with a bottle and sort him out,” Fallon put in. “You need a laptop or do you have yours?”

“Got mine.”

“Right. Let’s get to work.”

Work.

Right.

I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was dread or impatience. Or a mix of both. Eager to get this shit done and over with to get Chloe free and clear and shut down whatever operation Sterling had going. Or terror that in a few hours, Chloe would be in the lion’s den, possibly in the presence of a man who peddled flesh.

She’d called him an apex predator, and that was exactly what he was.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Something’s afoot.” Poppy leaned close to whisper in my ear.

I barely heard her over the hum of conversation and music.

And afoot?

Surely, I’d heard her wrong.

I looked up from the POS screen where I was punching in drink orders and gave her my attention. She looked like a super-hot eighties rocker chick in her red spandex leotard and black heels. The V was deep, showing off her impressive cleavage. And just in case someone missed how big her boobs were, she had on a plethora of silver necklaces—from chokers to chains that hit mid-stomach. Poppy had a killer figure and she worked it. But it was her long blonde hair with fresh highlights, teased and crimped, that pulled together the outfit. Not to mention she’d lined her blue eyes with electric-blue liner.

This was a far cry from how she came to work at the Plank.