STEAM & SMOKE | 18+

CHAPTER | 6 |

"NOTHING," Ghost said, shrugging. I got up and stepped away from him, putting distance between us.

"I'm serious. What did you do?"

"Do you really want me to tell you?" He folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. I exhaled. How did I get involved with a criminal?

"Leave, Ghost. Go back to Sinners or whoever sent you," I said.

"I need you to come with me to Vegas."

"No."

He also stood up, towering over me and moved closer. "I'm not asking you. You will come."

I shook my head, p*ssed. "I don't know who the f*ck you think you are but I'm not the girls you have in your club. You're not going to tell me what to do."

For a second, he said nothing and just stared at me like was trying to read my thoughts. "The girls in my club have more common sense than you will ever have when they see me," his voice low and dangerous. "If I didn't need you, I would have killed you already. Don't act like you're above those girls."

"You don't need me, Ghost. Let's be real. You're expecting to emotionally exploit me, hoping that I'll crumble and risk everything for you. Sadly, I won't ever."

His response was to laugh. "You believe that?" He leaned towards me and whispered. "When the time comes, you will. You'll risk your job, your little boyfriend and your life for me. But I won't care, Malia. At all."

"Because you don't like me?"

"No, because you're just a girl a f*cked once upon a time."

Hatred burned through my veins as I faced him, his own eyes sparking with fury. It took everything in me not to try to kill him even though I knew it would be in vain. "I want you to go," I growled.

Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he nodded in agreement. "I have things to do so I'll see you later."

"I don't want to see you."

Disapproval was painted on his face. "Don't be like that."

I had enough. Striding out of the room, I left him and went to my bedroom. I fell onto my bed, trying to push Ghost's word to the back of my mind.

*****

The next day, the office was buzzing as usual with people. I tapped my pen on my desk, thinking about Isiah's death. Would they find out who did it? Do they care? The sound of a thick file hitting my desk pulled me out of my thoughts. I glanced at Harry then the document. "What is this?"

He pointed at the label. "The case about Sinners and the kidnapping of Quince De Vil."

"De Vil? I thought this case was closed five years ago," I replied cautiously.

"Because he was dead. Or we thought he was," Harry explained, placing grainy photos in front of me. "There have been sightings of him and a bank account has been opened under his name."

Flicking through the file, I realized that this was in Las Vegas. "Why is the New York branch sorting this out? We have too many cases."

Harry sat down in the chair across from me. "We dealt with the Ghost case before and thanks to your friend Isiah, we know he's linked to them so we're the best for the job."

"I get that but Ghost already knows who we work for. If he's involved with Sinners, he's not going to help," I emphasized. I had no desire to go undercover again or go back to Vegas. "He could expose us."

"He came in earlier. He gave us the photos actually and told us to open the case."

"And you just went with it?"

"He signed a NDA."

I looked at him. "Are you stupid? You made someone with no ID, no identification sign a non-disclosure agreement? Does his signature say Ghost?" I mocked.

"It doesn't matter," Harry dismissed. "It's clear he wants something so he's most likely not going to do anything."

"So now we just do as he says?"

"He's not helping with the case, if that's what you're getting at." Harry glanced at the piles of other files beside my computer. "The director said you should transfer those to Susan because this case is a priority."

Happiness flooded through my body. Finally, I would be able to see the color of my desk. "Why is De Vil such a big deal?"

"He deals in weapons and became filthy rich off it but he started making trades with gangs and associations such Sinners. The FBI caught a whiff then he was kidnapped."

I picked up the final report. "Due to insufficient evidence and information, the claim that the organization known as Sinners had kidnapped and held captive the weaponry tycoon, Quince De Vil, was concluded as invalid," I read. "And the FBI never found him?"

"He disappeared completely so was written off as dead."

"Where was Quince last seen?"

"In Las Vegas."

"Of course," I grumbled under my breath and pulled out Ghost's file, placing it on the top. "When will you be going then?"

"Both of us will be going in nine days so get ready. Your ID will be delivered to you in a week and I don't know how long we'll be out there for."

"I guess Ghost was right," I admitted, annoyed.

"He mentioned that he was staying in New York for a while."

I opened my eyes in fake shock. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm going so look over it before we leave." Harry left and I rested my head on the file that started all my problems, already feeling exhausted.

"Why me? I groaned. "Why is it always me?"

"Not sure but I have coffee," my sister, Helena, replied. A year older than me, she was the complete opposite of me - tall with straight blonde hair unlike my dark and wavy mess. She worked as a cop and was my role model.

I grinned and took the coffee from her. "Thanks. Why are you here?"

"Is it a crime to see my younger sister?"

"Nope but you're usually busy."

"I was in the area and I'm on a break." She looked at my desk. "What's Ghost?"

"You mean who," I answered, rolling my eyes.

Helena spotted the picture attached to the folder and picked it up. "He's very good looking. Like seriously hot."

I snatched the photo from her and slid it back. "He's trouble. Big trouble."

She laughed. "I'm guessing he's the cause of your stress recently."

"Correct," I sighed. "Now, I'm getting dragged to Vegas because of him."

"When do you leave?" Helena asked, sipping on her drink.

"Nine days. Duke will be p*ssed."

She patted my shoulder. "He'll understand. If not, I'll taser him."

I giggled imagining it. "You wouldn't dare."

"I might. You said Vegas. Didn't you go there last year?"

"Yeah," I responded shortly, not wanting to go into detail.

"You came home with hickeys all over your neck and mom was not impressed," she recalled. I lowered my head, trying to hide my blush from her.

"Okay, I get it. I had fun in Las Vegas but I don't want to go there."

"Malia, there's no chance you'll see the guy ever again."

Wrong.

"That's not why I don't want to go."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "Then why?"

"It's dangerous."

"That's never stopped you before. In fact, you love danger."

"This time I don't."

"Either way, you're going," she reminded me. "Make sure you enjoy yourself while you're there and come home safely."