REDEMPTION | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER NINE

"Are you going to eat all that?" Chloe asked, palming popcorn kernels into her mouth.

"Uh, it's chocolate ice cream?" I scooped a spoonful, swallowing its heavenly deliciousness. "What do you think?"

"I feel sorry for your arse in the morning," she muttered while using the remote to change the television channel.

"That is disgusting." I thrust the bowl in her hand. "Here. I can hardly finish eating after that statement."

"How is the agent shit going?" Leaving a comedy on the box, she switched between scarfing sugary snacks and chugging cheap beer. "Have you befriended anybody yet?"

"It's going nowhere. I haven't found anything on Kathy, and I don't think I will." My head rested on her shoulder. "What if I am wasting my time, Chloe?"

"You can't give up, Hon." Chloe cracked open another beer, the airtight seal fizzling gas. "Have you thought about asking Liam?"

Yes, I have pondered whether or not it's safe to speak to Liam about Kathy. He's gotten to know me, so I am no longer questionable or deemed untrustworthy. However, the fact remains that he is a renowned criminal. Paint it how you want, but the man is an unconvinced murderer sprinkled in glorification. I will not gamble my life, not for love nor money, nor elucidation. "All the time. I'm scared to poke the bear, though. Liam and his men are terrifying. I haven't seen anything too shady—that's not to say everything is above board either—but the dancers are one hundred percent sleeping with clients for money. Then there are the drugs."

"Drugs," she deadpanned.

"Yes. Drugs." I sat crossed-legged, twisting at the waist to face her head-on. "Twice a week, a juggernaut truck reverses down the club's alleyway for the Suits to convey large, sealed cranes to the cellar, leaving a faint trail of white substance on the floor. I am no drug expert, but I'm convinced it is cocaine—oh! And they own guns," I whisper-shout as if someone could hear us gossiping within the vicinity of our squalid flat. "Real guns."

Chloe placed the ice cream bowl on the coffee table. "Guns?" she asked wryly. "Firearms are illegal, Alexa."

Does she think I'm not aware of our gun laws?

"Yes, Chloe. Guns." Irked by her facetiousness, I huffed bangs from my face. "I have seen them. Nate came behind the bar to empty the cash register, right? When he bent down, the handle poked out from the inside of his suit jacket." True story. "I was so bloody shocked. I'm sure he noticed, too. He procrastinated, like, he wanted to get into a conversation, but I continued to serve customers, pretending to be blind. And dumb."

Chewing sour strawberry laces, she sucked sugar from her fingers. "Who is Nate?"

My chest deflated. "Why do you always ask the least relevant questions?" I climbed to my feet and headed to the kitchen for a drink.

"Okay." Her feet scuffed along the floorboards as she shadowed behind me. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me." She took the bottled water from my hands and swigged. "Please, finish your story."

"Two nights ago, the Suits' dragged an unwilling man behind the bar and into the cellar. Twenty minutes later, Liam joined them." At the disturbing memory, I felt a cold chill dance along my spine. "That man never resurfaced. I reckon Liam murders people down there, and then the Suits dismantle the body parts."

She gave me a scathing laugh. "And what do you suppose Liam is doing with all these dismantled bodies?"

"How the hell should I know? It's not the first time I have witnessed them haul someone underground. Those victims never come back. Once dragged away—that's the end of the road for them. Gone."