"I'll shut it when you calm your panties. I'm not here to see you. I'm here to do my job."
"What job?" Billy said.
She turned to Billy and waved her little notebook in the air. "I'm here to write a story for the Dispatch," she said. Then she whirled around and entered the crowd of people waiting for someone—anyone—to show up with scissors to let everyone inside already.
He knew that look on her face. She was up to something, and it wasn't just about writing a story about a fucking grand opening of a cheesy escape room for The Dispatch.
"Wow, our little activist got a job at the paper. That's cool," Levi said with genuine pride.
"It was only a matter of time. They quote her in their city council stories at least once a week. Now she'll have a lot more resources at her disposal to go after all those crooks," Ricky said.
Everyone looked at Ricky. He stared back, incredulous. "You guys read the paper, right?"
The chorus of "no" seemed to take him by surprise. "Not even online?"
More blank stares.
Dash knew Ricky was on to something. Harper's real goal—her giant white whale—was to dig up dirt on the missing Dockside women, among others. If she didn't watch her ass, she was going to end up dead. Did she not realize that?
Dash watched her walk away in her overly tight stretch jeans and her short little parka. No way she was warm enough without a coat covering her ass.
When she disappeared into the crowd, he felt a hot poker in his stomach. Everyone was here. The mayor, the police chief, the new neighborhood councilman, county supervisors, and Fiona's mom—local business mogul and heiress to Newcastle Tuna. Dash even spotted a couple of guys who had all the marks of being mobbed up with jailed mafia boss Ralph Girardi; those guys had recently started hanging around Crow Bar, and Dash did not like that.
Dash nudged Levi and pointed with his chin. "See that?"
Levi muttered, "Yeah. Shit. What are they doin' here?"
"Who knows," Dash answered.
"Want me to take one of 'em aside for a friendly chat?" Sometimes Levi was just itching for a fight.
"Nah. Save it. Just keep an eye on Harper. Well, I'll keep an eye on her; you keep an eye on Fiona and everybody else."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Levi staring at him like he was babbling incoherently. Dash ignored it and stayed vigilant. The gold pinky ring of one of the supposed-wise guys glinted in the sun as he texted somebody. The other one adjusted his necktie to prove to this crowd of city leaders that he belonged there.
Then, Dash saw something odd. A tall woman wearing a fur coat and a platinum blonde ponytail was winding her way through the crowd, shaking hands and laughing loudly like she was attempting to impress. She possessed the bold energy of a Dockside girl trying to dress like a posh northsider. Her coat, makeup, and earrings were too much for the River Drive set. But no broads in this neighborhood wore fur coats. As the woman tried to breeze past the two wise guys, Dash saw one of them low-key grasp her by the crook of her elbow, forcing her to stop short. With a rush of raw protective instinct, Dash nearly launched himself at the man. But he stopped himself when he saw the woman pry the man's sausage fingers away from her arm. She was speaking venom at the man, her teeth gritted. Dash lipread a string of cuss words that could make the Brute Squad blush. She wasn't even attempting to plaster a smile for anyone else's benefit while she spoke. Yeah…that was a Dockside girl under that fur coat.
Fuck those guys, Dash thought. They could arrest all the city council members on corruption charges; the FBI could freeze all the local boxing league assets for fixing matches. But the city had much more significant, much darker problems than corruption. What were they doing here? And why were they mingling with this crowd of political glad-handers?
Dash's feelings weren't any more generous toward all the important-looking people at that event. He found himself wishing he'd paid more attention to all of Harper's hyper-political lectures because he couldn't name a single person apart from the mayor.
They should be fixing the organized crime problem, Dash thought, so people like Harper wouldn't feel it necessary to stick their noses where they didn't belong.
Dash had the physical advantage of towering over everyone in the crowd. Shifting around, he could somewhat keep an eye on that mop of red hair.
That's when he spotted her talking to the mayor, and it did not look like a breezy conversation.
"What is that woman doing?" he muttered.
Finally, someone showed up to get the show on the road. To his surprise, the platinum blonde lady in the fur coat was introduced as Opal Ambrose, the place's owner, and the two wise guys stood behind her as she spoke. He committed the name to memory, confident she had some shady connection with the two men who watched her like a couple of jailers. The whole thing felt off, but as Dash scanned the crowd, it didn't appear anybody else sensed anything was wrong. Her introduction was followed by certain muckity-mucks giving meaningless speeches about the neighborhood's revitalization. Finally, the fur-coated lady stopped talking and invited the first five teams to a complimentary escape room session.
As the team shuffled inside to get their room assignments, Dash commented to Declan, "Complimentary, huh? You'll spring for artisan ice that nobody wants, but we have to stand in the cold so this mandatory team-building session can be free?"
Declan shook his head and adjusted his newsboy cap, keeping his attention focused on the instructions. Opal, squinting at a pamphlet, didn't seem all that clear on the escape room instructions herself.
Dash craned his neck to look for Harper and spotted her scribbling
