“That’s old news,” I mock at her offering. We’d already got that information while torturing the hired men we’d found at the Death Valley’s warehouse that had held enough guns and ammunition to supply a small army.
“But did you know he has an apartment for hispersonal use here in Reno? One that only a few people are aware of,” she divulges.
“I suspected.” I lie, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of gaining new information. “That’s what you can find out when you see him tomorrow. Exactly where it is he lives.”
“I’ll try,” she sighs, “but like I said, I can’t be too obvious. Baby steps, and all that.”
“Never mind fucking baby steps, you get me the information I need,” I growl, slamming the empty beer bottle onto the counter. I turn my back and walk away from her.
“Smoke, please,” she pleads as I get to the apartment door. “You need to have faith in me. Give me time to gain his trust so he’ll open up to me.”
“The only people I have faith in are my brothers. You, you’re testing my patience, so you better start proving your worth.” Pulling open the door, I step out into the hallway, but not before I spin on my heels and heed her a final warning. “Because I’m known for changing my mind at the drop of a hat, and I’ve still got a bullet in the chamber of my gun with your name on it.”
I slam the door behind me, my heavy boots thud on the tiled floor until I reach the elevator. It comes in a matter of seconds and once safely inside, despite the tug of guilt at slinging the threat of death at Tenley, of which I doubt I’d ever act upon, I allow the corners of my mouth to tug upwards into a smile that I rarely allow anyone to see.
We have progress.
Paddy Dunne has an apartment where the chances are when he’s there, he’s alone. No backup, no foot soldiers and fucking vulnerable. This gives us the perfect chance to make our move. The only thing we need is the address, and Tenley will be the one to supply it.
Chapter
Eighteen
Tenley
The emerald green satin dress hanging on the back of my door isn’t my usual choice of color. I’m unlikely to wear it again, but under the circumstances, for tonight’s date with a handsome Irish man, it’s perfect.
When Smoke had left my apartment, his parting threat had unravelled me somewhat, and immediately, I’d grabbed the bottle of vodka that was stashed in the back of my freezer box for emergencies. With a shot glass in one hand and ice-cold bottle under my arm, I had snatched up my laptop and got settled back on the sofa.
Three hours later, half the vodka gone and a shit ton of scrolling through pages and pages of research on the Death Valley Irish and the Dunne family, I could barely see straight. With no further earth-shattering insight into any of them, I surrendered and took myself off tobed, hoping I didn’t have a raging hangover in the morning.
I hadn’t, thankfully, but as I’d trailed around the boutiques in the midtown area of Reno, I’d returned home with the headache from hell and an outfit for my date.
I’d taken a nap, only dragging myself up and into the shower around half an hour ago giving me a little over ninety minutes to get ready.
My makeup is flawless but not over the top. I wasn’t sure what to do with my hair. In the end, I decided to leave it down in soft curls that framed my face. I pull the dress from the hanger and unfasten the zip that runs down the side of the fabric. As I step into it and bring the soft, silky fabric up my body, I watch my reflection in the tall mirror in front of me. Securing the zipper is a little awkward, but once in place, the fabric clings to my curves perfectly. The neckline drapes low enough to give a hint of cleavage without showing too much of what hides beneath. The length falls just above my knee and has a small slit at the side which shows a little more thigh. I make a mental note to check that I’m not flashing too much skin when I sit.
I slip on my nude, heeled pumps and put the final touch of red glossy lipstick to my lips.
“Holy fuck,” I grind out when I take in my full view in the mirror. Even I’m shocked at how incredibly hot I look. It’s too much. This is way too much for a dinner date with a man I barely know, and a dangerous one at that.
I rummage in my wardrobe intending to pull outsome plain black pants and a top more suitable for the date, but then Smoke’s warning comes back to mind. I stop, hands still holding on to the garments, and let out an enormous sigh.
To get this man’s attention, I need to pull out all the stops and if dressing like I’m about to be whisked off to Paris for dinner at the Guy Savoy restaurant, then that’s what I’ll do. I just hope we don’t end up at In-N-Out Burger and looking a right pretentious schmuck.
To keep up the pretence of where I live, when Paddy messaged me about picking me up, I’d planned to book a cab to get me to my decoy apartment block a whole thirty minutes before he was due. I was sure that once I was there, if I stepped inside the building that I’d be able to keep the doorman talking until Paddy arrived without raising any suspicion. But when a second message popped up on my phone from him confirming, it blew my strategic plan out of the water when it showed my actual address. A shiver of apprehension had rolled down my spine. So much for keeping that under wraps. Thank fuck building security will be back in a few days.
My cell pings and skips along the top of the dresser from the vibration. When I check it, it’s a message from Paddy to let me know that he’s arrived and parked in front of the building.
I grab my purse that’s lying on top of the bed and pop my personal phone into it. The burner that Smoke gave me was already in there. Lo and behold, just as I’m about to zip up the top, the burner buzzes.
“Hey,” I say as soon as I hit the answer button.
“Ready for your date?” Smoke’s gruff yet sexy voice filters down the phone and tickles my ear.
“You just caught me walking out the door,” I reply while navigating through the apartment to leave.
“You all dressed up and ready to impress?” His tone is a little patronizing and a lot harsh.
