Concierge Of Crime Novels & Stories

I reply. “Look my drugs aren’t selling and I need tough hounds on the street that are willing to get down and bloody to keep the drugs going,” “McCredie, I don’t deal drugs, I’m not involved in drugs and I do not want to get involved in drugs,” He leans forward and looks at me, “Are you sure about that?” I glare at him and lean forward. “Because one of my boys, saw your cats pushing a consignment a few days ago,” he says and pulls out him phone from his pocket.

“What can I say? I enjoy a few tricks.” “I can’t believe you were so careless,” Jane said. “You better be comin’ home, because I’m not the only one with a few things to say to you.” I hear you, girl. “I’m here now.” He blared the horn to get the media to move off the driveway and drove up it. His security guys pushed them back as they surged, and a couple trip in the scramble. Good. Assholes. Conor hang up and opened his door. “Don’t look at them. Keep your head down and run into the house.”

I slammed both palms down on the marble counter. The concierge looked up, startled. “That man who just went upstairs,” I said, voice like ice. “Tell me who he is. Room number. How long has he been staying here!” The woman stammered, “I—I’m sorry, sir, I can’t—” “Don’t test me,” I growled. “You think people like him get away with this because of silence? You want to be part of that lie?” Her mouth opened—then closed again.

The precinct carried a different weight when the night crept in. The traffic beyond the frosted windows, the chatter of officers moving between desks, and the hollow ring of telephones—all of it seemed more subdued, muted, as though the building itself knew a storm was about to break inside its walls. Rico wasn’t just another boy in custody. He was the missing link in a puzzle the police had been chasing for years, a living witness tangled in the web of three different men who each claimed dominance over the city’s underworld.

The room filled with the sterile, repetitive beep beep beep of an outgoing call. Grace blinked in confusion. Then turned toward him. Only to see his phone lying in plain sight on the bed, speaker on. No shame. No secrets. Her eyes flicked to the screen. Liam Goodman. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the dull, rhythmic ringing. CLICK. The call connected. Grace’s heart skipped a beat. Background noise filtered through the speaker—music, a few laughs, and then a bright male voice said, "Yo, Raphael! What’s up? Done smoothing things over with the missus already? You comin’ back out or what? We’re still here!"

“You got that, ha? But I swear that bitch was squeaky clean. I had her background checked, and I stood in front of her a couple of times. She can’t be bought or bribed, so what the fuck has happened in the last two weeks since I met her?” She said while she tapped the floor with her Louis Vuitton high heels and this man called Bob frowned at the both of us. “I don’t know what you are talking about it was a miracle she stayed here for this long anyway, the only thing I know is that she must be cleared out of here before noon and admitted to her next home where she might spend her sentence there.” The disgusting man said, making my lawyer huff and giving him a disgusted look before she turned

“A criminal?! Hang on! I’ll call the police right now! Hang in there!” When Camala heard that, she immediately stopped and headed over to the phone. “He’s not a criminal. He’s just a delivery driver who’s here to deliver Wendy’s painkillers. She’s lying to you! “I’m Wendy’s aunt. Wendy feels neglected because her brothers went to watch her sister’s performance, and she kicked up quite a fuss. I was just lecturing her. You don’t have to call the police. This is nothing, really! It’s late, and we caused you trouble. We’re truly sorry.”

Her eyes were fixed on the tea like it held the answers she needed. “She okay?” he asked under his breath. “She’s breathing,” I replied. He gave a tight nod, then handed me a folded folder. “I’ve got the details.” I opened it without sitting down. “The concierge wasn’t the same one from always,” Rafe started. “We checked. The usual guy was ‘sick,’ but we found him tied up in a motel room, alive, shaken. They sent a replacement in his place. A hired man. Took money to allow access to the service elevator. No background, false ID. We’re still tracing his real name.”

Conan was like a dog with a bone whenever he wanted to know about something. He eyed me with concern and confusion on his face. I pasted a blank look with a small smile on my face, hoping he wouldn't notice my fidgeting fingers and bouncing leg. He nodded and went back to his calls. I subtly breathed out a sigh of relief, my heart pounding ferociously. A few minutes later, Conan wrapped up his calls, his expression grave. “Jade, I've arranged for a contact to start probing the Department of Welfare's systems. It might take some time, but we should have more information soon.”

“When we came down from the penthouse, there was no way for our observers to have anticipated that. Now we’ve given ample time for whatever concierge or doorman is on the Oriri payroll to have notified them of our movements. Which makes the return journey the really dangerous part.” Raven breathed out, slowly and heavily. “Listen, I know you’re all in favor of paranoia and all that, but the concierge? Really?” “Why not?” Kade refolded his napkin. “I know they keep Frederick on the take. And besides, I control most of the concierges in each of the Lu siblings’ buildings.” She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. She knew the world she was in now, this cut throat race to be alone at the top. It wa