Devin spun his chair again. “I think what you’ll need is a tux rather than a gun. I’ve done my magic on this one and got Sam Ferguson from Noctem Consulting an invite. With a plus one. That way, you can keep an eye on things from the inside, but still have backup on the outside.”
Sam whistled. “Glad you’re on our side, mate. I think with your skills you could bring a country down.”
“Nah, too easy. I crave a real challenge and will only be satisfied when we bring Phantom’s distributors for good.”
Chapter Nine
This was ludicrous.There was no way in hell she was stepping out of her apartment dressed like that. Orla doubted about Evans’ word until a delivery man arrived at her apartment, and she was called to the lobby by the concierge. The delivery man had not one, but three enormous boxes for her. The name on them indicated they were from one of Chicago’s upscale dress shops. Did Evans think she wasn’t capable of finding something suitable for the evening?
After hauling them to her apartment, with the help of the concierge and the delivery guy, she opened the boxes and realized Evans might have been right. She had a couple of nice outfits, but nothing as chic as what she’d received.
Orla discovered the biggest box held a couple of dresses, the second one had shoes, and the last one, surprisingly, an assortment of high-quality wigs. It took only a second to understand Evans had thought about details that eluded her. She was recognizable within the Chicago scene with her platinum hair and face in print and online on a regular basis. She wasn’t against dying her hair for a story, but what he’d offered was a much simpler solution.
Her first frustration had been selecting one of the dresses. They’d been chosen from designer collections, but all of them showed way more skin than she was comfortable with. On the other hand, she knew Evans would show her off as eye candy, and while eye candy got attention, nobody really remembered them or noticed when they were in a crowd.
The dress she eventually selected was a sheer, long-sleeved, floor-length dress, with a built-in bra and high-waisted panties that protected her modesty. With a deep V at the front and back, it would have been anything but elegant if not for the flowy quality and the shimmery tonal embroidery. When the light caught on the yards of transparent fabric, it made for a stunning ensemble, even if most of her body was visible underneath. She paired it with ornate gold high heels and a pair of simple studded golden earrings. If she wore any more bling, she would need to distribute sunglasses to those around her. From all the wigs, she found a blond number with darker highlights and quickly arranged it in a low, romantic bun. The look was stunning, and with heavy enough makeup, nobody would ever recognize her, not even Kelli.
Standing in front of her largest mirror, Orla examined herself from head to toe, making sure everything was perfect, but something kept bugging her. What had she missed? Her eyes kept coming back to the plunging décolletage, but she didn’t have a piece of jewelry that would work. It wasn’t as if she could wear her mother’s silver necklace. And that was what was missing. Her moon necklace! Panic invaded her as she frantically looked around but caught herself, knowing she’d run out of time. Evans had said he’d be waiting for her downstairs at ten sharp, and it was time to go.
Taking a deep breath, she repeated to herself that it was in her apartment, probably among the discarded clothes on her bedroom floor. No need to get herself into a twist and she couldn’t crawl around on the floor in her dress.
One last look in the mirror told her it was now or never before she lost her courage or found her common sense. As she made her way down to the lobby, the cold caused her to shiver. This time of year, Orla would have preferred to bundle up in her old blanket but knew she’d only be outside for a second.
She stepped out of the elevator, and immediately spotted Damon standing on the other side of the expanse of glass with the limo behind him. In a full black tuxedo, blond hair slicked back and impeccably groomed, it was easier to forget he ran one of the most dangerous MCs in town and imagine he was a successful tycoon instead.
He turned and saw her, his entire body freezing for a second, quickly followed by a wide, appreciative grin. When she opened the door, the cold was difficult to ignore, and Evans quickly bundled her in the limo, and she was glad the heater was on high.
“You look like a vision.”
Orla appreciated the compliment but scrunched her nose. “I would’ve preferred a selection appropriate for the season. I look ready for the beach.”
Gallantly, Evans took her hand and kissed it. “Anything other than that dress covering you would be an insult to your beauty.”
“Are all bikers that poetic in their compliments?”
“We normally like to add in a few fucks and damns, but as this is a high-end date, I wanted to buff it up.”
Her immediate answer was a laugh. “Appreciated, Mr. Evans, but this is not a date. This is a mission to learn more about the drug distribution and people involved in it.”
With a nod, he relaxed in his seat, glancing at the division from the driver, probably making sure it was up. “The buyers are under the umbrella of the Maximon Entertainment Group. As a matter of fact, we’re heading to a soiree organized by the Maximon Group. I don’t know the names of the rest of the men involved in the consortium, but it’s more than probable they’ll be there. Also, you better start calling me Damon, no date of mine would address me by my last name.”
Frustration made her clench her jaw. If he’d told her that bit of information this morning, she would’ve had the time to do some research, to dig deeper. It was hard to remember that in this particular instance, she wasn’t in control. If she wanted in, Damon had to lead the way. For now, at least. “We’ll have to see how we go. I need to see their faces and get their names. More if possible. They probably aren’t their real names either, but with their faces, I’ll have more to work with.”
All signs of flirting left Damon’s face. “I’m only getting you through the door, but if anything puts my people in danger, I won’t have any qualms in leaving you high and dry if you’re the cause of it.”
As far as threats went, it couldn’t be clearer. Orla nodded, knowing he wasn’t playing and that his generosity had hard limits.
The ride took no more than fifteen minutes through light traffic. As she looked at the buildings and the people walking around, she wondered if the vigilante was following her. She knew better than to get distracted by wayward images, but somehow, picturing that dark guardian angel watching over her calmed her. And she’d take all the support she could, even if it was only imagined.
When the limo stopped in front of the Theater on the Lake’s grand entrance, a valet opened her door, and she knew it was showtime. Ignoring her discomfort and the cold, Orla smiled as she exited the car, and turned to wait for Damon to step beside her. The man hooked his arm around her waist and brought her firmly to his side, giving her a kiss on the neck before leading her inside.
Orla had been inside the glass and steel building before, but it was the first time she’d been there at night. The entire space had been decorated in gold and black, and from the large posters hanging from the steel beams, the party was to promote some sort of video game. However, the crowd was obviously not the type to play games. All glammed up, she recognized a few prominent businessmen. Were they involved in this scam, or were they only being used as decoys?
“Mr. Evans! Such a great pleasure to have you here with us tonight. I’m Mr. Black. I’m the one you spoke with earlier.”
Before letting her go to shake the offered hand of the jovial man, Damon squeezed her hip twice. Immediately, her heart skipped a beat, and her brain kicked in, detailing the man before her. Mr. Black was the name of one of the men Damon had mentioned at breakfast. Their host was an iron junkie without a doubt, his tailored suit tuxedo barely containing his muscles. If not for the pricey watch and shoes, he could’ve almost passed for a bodyguard.
“Thank you for the invitation and sorry for the late response. I wasn’t sure about attending, but someone was bored and wanted to have fun tonight, and I couldn’t resist.”
