“What the fuck...?” I breathe, as a photo of the man swims up on my screen.
There, plain as day, is a face I know. A face I’ve only seen a couple of times, but that I’d recognize anywhere. It’s Tot. The Nine’s newest prospect. The picture is a few years old, to be sure, but I know that it’s him. A quick image search shows me that he hasn’t been going by “Michael Lorenzo” in recent history, but “Matthew DeVito”. All of the more recent pictures from his social media pages and the like bear this new name. What could possibly be the meaning of this? I haven’t the slightest idea, but maybe Kassie will.
I stand under the hot water for a moment or two and emerge once more, stashing my phone in my discarded clothes. Leo is already dressed and ready to go when I step out of the bathroom again.
“Just got a call from Mac. Says he needs me at the Nest as soon as possible,” Leo says.
“Sure,” I say softly, hurrying past him, “Gimme a second.”
“You sure you’re feeling OK?” he presses, as I throw on some clothes in a hurry, “You still look kind of spooked, babe.”
“Just ready to start the day,” I chirp, in a voice that soars above my usual octave.
“Whatever you say,” Leo shrugs, “Let’s do it, then.”
I follow him out of the house and hop on the back of his Harley. Off we go again to the Wraith’s Nest. Maybe Kassie will be able to help me sort through this baffling mess. I can’t make sense of this Tot thing, and there’s no way I’m saying a word about it until I’m sure of what’s up. What if someone’s setting this poor kid up, or blackmailing him or something? I don’t want any innocent people to get hurt because of my hasty assumptions. Even a little rat bastard like him.
Still, time is of the essence. I don’t know how long Declan is going to hold off before storming the Wraith’s Nest to get Kassie back. It’s already been hours since we spoke on the phone. For all I know, he could have already led the charge straight into Wraith territory. Clinging to Leo’s powerful body, I say a silent prayer to any god that might be listening.
Just give me a little more time, I plead with the powers that be, All I need is time.
Storm clouds roll along the horizon, creeping toward us across the dusty desert. It’s scarcely rained since I’ve been in Vegas, but now the air is charged with the energy of an impending storm. Oh, great. That’s just what I need right now: a terrible, ominous omen of things to come.
“Looks like trouble,” Leo shouts, nodding toward the roiling clouds.
You have no idea, I think to myself, pressing my cheek against his back and closing my eyes tight.
We roll past the battered wooden sign bearing the sigil of the Wraiths. In the gathering duskiness of the sky, the club’s namesake looks more like a reaper, beckoning us to follow her. My usual intrigue with the wraith gives way to mounting terror. I don’t want to think about any reapers lurking around this place.
Leo guides his Harley up to the Nest, pulling up next to Kassie’s four-wheeled cell. The compound is relatively quiet at this hour of high noon. All of the Playpen patrons have scattered for the day, and the girls are nowhere to be seen. It’s only as I climb off Leo’s bike that I notice the fleet of Harley’s parked outside the Wraith’s clubhouse. Looks like chapel is in session.
“You gonna be OK on your own with her?” Leo asks, nodding at the RV.
“Sure,” I reply with a forced smile, “We’ll bake cookies and paint our nails, or something. You, uh, gonna be a while in there?”
“I dunno,” Leo says, “Mac didn’t say what the meeting was about.”
“Did it sound important?” I ask, “It’s weird for you guys to be meeting in the middle of the day, isn’t it?”
“It sounds urgent,” Leo allows, “But don’t you worry about a thing. Your only job is to keep our visitor calm. Let us the handle the club business.”
“Right,” I say quietly, as Leo unlocks the RV’s dead-bolted door.
“Don’t be nervous,” he smiles, tucking a stray curl behind my ear, “Everything’s going to be just fine.”
A fat raindrop dashes itself against my cheek as Leo leans in to kiss me. His firm lips catch mine, taking the edges off my mounting panic. The sky cracks open as he breaks away, leaving me alone with Kassie.
“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you,” he says, “That’s a promise.”
“I believe you,” I whisper, holding his face in my hands. And it’s the truth. But it’s not me I’m worried about in all of this. It’s him.
I watch as Leo turns and walks away from me, striding across the Wraith’s Nest as a heavy rain starts to fall down around us. He seems to walk between the heavy drops, the wraith emblazoned on his retreating back. It isn’t until he steps inside the chapel that I finally wrench open the door of the RV and step inside.
“Kelly, you’re soaked!” Kassie exclaims, emerging from the motor home’s tiny bedroom.
“It’s fine,” I say, waving away her concern, “Listen—”
“You should get into some dry things,” she goes on, “Here, take my—”
“No time,” I tell her, pacing around the tiny space, “I hacked into Leo’s email this morning, Kassie.”
“Really? What did you find?” she asks, snapping into action mode at once.
“About a dozen of those emails you were talking about, all of them full of shit,” I say, sitting down at the kitchen table, “They were all sent from different email addresses.”
“Anonymous?” she asks, sitting opposite me. She pours us each a nip of whiskey and pushes one across the table to me.
“Seemingly anonymous,” I say, “But I traced all of them back to a single IP address. They were all sent from the same computer, Kassie.”
“Do you know whose computer it is?” she asks, taking a long swig of her drink.
“That’s the thing,” I tell her, “I’ve got a name, but it doesn’t make any sense.”
“Tell me,” she insists.
“Alright,” I say, “The name attached to the IP address is Michael Lorenzo.”
“Who?” she asks.
“Exactly,” I say, “Didn’t ring any bells for me, either. I searched for him, and had to dig for a whole hour to find a single photo. But...I did find something eventually. I ran an image search with this old picture I managed to find.”