Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“What are you planning to offer him?” Garland asked me.
“Myself. If this is about me, there’s no other carrot to dangle.”
“I think you’re fucking crazy, sir,” Garland reiterated his opinion. “But you’re the boss.”
I turned to Dante. “For what feels like the millionth time, I’m counting on you not to lose sight of me. So when I land in the belly of the beast…”
“Which you will,” he husked.
“Which I will,” I echoed, “I’m counting on you to come and get me.”
Dante was looking out the window, and with his leg crossed over his knee, in his pale linen suit and Gucci loafers, he looked like an ad for some kind of high-priced vodka or cologne. On the computer screen, Darius was pacing.
“No matter what happens,” I said to Darius, “don’t come here. This could be some crazy, elaborate trap to draw you, the Vault, out. I won’t be the reason someone gets a free shot at you and destroys what you’re trying to build and change.”
I got a slight head tip of acknowledgment.
I reached over, put my hand on Dante’s knee, and squeezed gently.
“You know what you’re likely in for,” Dante said without turning to look at me. “They’re going to beat you because they can. Because they’ll have you. Who knows to what extent.”
“I can take a beating. You know I can. In fact, the two of us have found ourselves behind enemy lines before.”
“Yes, but you’ve never walked there yourself.”
He had me there.
ELEVEN
Soi Cowboy was in the heart of Bangkok. Forty high-class go-go bars and nightclubs lined the mile-long stretch of debauchery that was brightly drizzled in the garish glow of pink and sky-blue neon hues. And the man who owned it all was Tommy Yu.
Dante had explained before I left that Yu was the most powerful man among the Thai Chao Pho. He controlled eighty percent of the heroin entering Bangkok, and all the methamphetamine trade in Thailand. His gang, the Naga Boyz, were a vicious pack of enforcers who worked out of his nightclubs, and the biggest, most glamorous of them all was the Peppermint Snake, the public face of Yu’s legitimacy and the front for his heroin trafficking.
Yu was feared among the Thai underworld for his methods of extreme violence against his enemies. He had a reputation for killing the sons of his enemies to prevent them from taking revenge for their dead fathers. I hoped the man’s bloodlust was eclipsed by his greed.
I took a taxi to Sukhumvit, and once I was let out in front of the place, I approached the club, pushing past the thick crowd waiting outside the establishment to be let in. Two well-muscled bouncers worked the door, but as expected, they took one look at me and let me in. I was definitely in the right place.
Inside, I went through the motions, paying the cover charge and entering the club’s main floor. The large lounge area followed a metal-and-neon aesthetic, featuring a raised dance floor and couch/table combination seating. The place was packed and loud. This had never been my scene, not even when I was young enough not to find the pulsing, bass-heavy beat of trance music ear-splitting or irritating. A dozen scantily dressed young women waited on tables.
I walked to the far side of the room, where thankfully, it was a bit quieter, and sat down at a table, able to see the entire club from my vantage point. Within moments, a charming Thai hostess approached my table, wearing stilettos and a big smile. She was so young, and I hoped it was her decision to work there.
“Hello,” she greeted me, leaning in close so I could hear her. “What’s your name?”
“Jared,” I answered, returning her smile.
“That’s a nice name. Are you looking for company this evening, Jared?”
“Another time,” I said, passing her a fifty-dollar bill. “At the moment I’m looking for someone. Perhaps you can help me.”
“Maybe,” she said kindly. “It’s a big place. Who are you looking for?”
“Your boss, Mr. Yu.”
Her jaw dropped. “What did you say?” she asked, trying not to look quite so flustered.
“I want to see Mr. Yu.”
Her eyes filled with fear, and she shook her head forcefully. “No, you don’t want to—it’s better if you leave, Jared.”
The concern was kind. She was trying to save my life.
“I have to,” I assured her. “Please.”
“No. I’m sorry, no one meets Mr. Yu,” she rushed out, glancing around, I was guessing, to see if anyone was near enough to hear our conversation. “Let me get you a drink.”
I nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll have a Scotch, neat.”
Her relief was visible, and her smile was back before she left me, walking to the bar. Even if I hadn’t been watching her, I would have noticed her because of the way she was walking—deliberately slow, and I’d seen her move faster in the heels. And then her head turned, her dark gaze floating toward a man sitting in a roped-off private section near the bar, then back my way. She closed her eyes and then opened them.