Infernal: Bite The Bullet Read Online Free

even. He gave me the impression
he and Daniel had been close, perhaps even intimate. And he was the one who
mentioned about Daniel working at the studio, and the upcoming auditions. I’d
been hoping he could tell me more, but then my crazy mother intervened.
    Christ, what a mess that had been.
    Wherever she went, the woman never failed to make herself
the focus of attention. Even her own son’s funeral proved no exception.
    I stared out the windows of the train, watching
the tunnels zip by, picturing that strange man standing there, smiling at me.
    “Who are you?” I murmured aloud, drawing the
curious glances of my fellow passengers.
    Perhaps I’d bump into him again. Chances were he
either lived or worked local to the studio. Then maybe I’d have a chance to ask
the questions my mother had so rudely interrupted. I let the clickety-clack of
the rails and the repetitive voice of the ‘Mind the gap’ announcer lull me into
a semi-trance, getting so lost in my own thoughts I almost missed my stop.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Outside Angel station, I wrapped my cardigan
tighter against the night’s chill and braced myself for the short walk to my
empty one-bedroom flat. Delicious smells escaped through the vents as I ran the
gauntlet of Upper Street’s many ethnic restaurants, and my stomach growled at me,
loud on the quiet street. I caved passing the Asian place on the corner, and a
quarter or an hour later, with take-out noodles bundled against my chest, I
pushed into the small apartment, plucked a fork from the kitchen drawer, and
flopped onto the couch. My food rapidly lost its appeal though, when I pulled
out what was jabbing me in the ass. Daniel’s photo and the small, secretive
business card Gracie had given me. I set aside my dinner with a sigh, and with my
brother’s face staring up at me, dragged my laptop over to Google the name and address.
I chewed the corner of my nail as the browser spewed out endless results, obscurely
referencing what I needed. But there was one.
    The page loaded to a sleek site with a minimalist
gallery, showing only a leather and pearl reception area and a sombre black door
adorned with high-polished brass. To access anything else, the page popped up a
log-in screen. Private indeed.
    Glancing at the time and the empty loneliness of
my apartment, it wasn’t a difficult decision to gather myself up and see if I
had anything to wear that would help me blag my way inside. If the site would
give me nothing, I’d have to go to the club and see what that yielded.
    Staring at the contents of my small closet, I was
pro-con-ing a simple black dress when a thought occurred to me. I shuffled my
phone from my pocket and scrolled through my recent calls, looking for Detective
Dalton, my liaison officer on Daniel’s case.
    After months without a single lead, all the
manpower had been pulled off the hunt. Not that I believed the police had ever
given my brother’s murder the priority it deserved. With the drugs they found
in his system and our mother’s history, everybody just assumed he’d fallen foul
of some pimp or dealer. Dalton had sworn to me that he’d never stop seeking
answers, but his cold grey eyes had told a different story. The eyes could tell
you all you needed to know about a person, provided you looked beyond what you
wanted to see. Unbidden, an image of Konstantyn Lazarenko’s brutal,
green-flecked stare came to mind, and heat crawled up my throat at the memory
of his choke-hold.
    Dismissing the undeniable frisson of fear-soaked
arousal that thought evoked, I pressed dial. While the phone rang, I checked
the time and pulled the dress off its hanger, grabbing up a pair of studded
flats and a black jersey jacket. It was late to be calling, but Dalton was used
to my pestering.
    “Neva,” he answered in that clipped British tone
that branded him the product of an expensive, public school education.
    Guess he had me on caller ID.
    “What can I do for you?”
    He hid his exasperation