Devil Woman

Chapter 8

Ivan

I told myself that I started following all social media platforms revolving around Nyra Carter because of work. I had to know where she went, what she ate, who she hung out with, and what she did in her free time.

It wasn't because the strip club she last danced at had recently dropped a hint that Fairy might be coming back for another set. I didn't follow for that reason. I swear. The star herself didn't have a personal or private account, so I couldn't track her news from that.

I had to go deep into my investigation, follow every strip club, hotel, and restaurant she owned and go through millions of followers. I didn't know how many horny men existed until I found out that each club followed a separate account that revolved around the dancers.

They weren't informational. Just pictures and stage names. Some were candid, while others were posed around the stage and poles. I had to scan through hundreds of lists to try and find a connection, try and maybe catch her under a different name but came up empty.

Paparazzi didn't constantly follow her, but the latest photos of her were from a few days ago, exiting from some Art Gallery Exhibition. It must be because the artist was known in New York. She went by the name of Sharon Inez and was explicitly known for her nude portraits of women, men, and couples.

I knew this since I had to look her up online. A consulting session with Sharon started off at ten thousand dollars and her paintings sold for millions. Even I had to admit when I browsed through her site that they were magnificent and breathtaking, but who had that much money?

The photos that were taken that night of Nyra were even more breathtaking. She was in a blood-red dress with heels pointy enough to kill a man, and such beauty was so candid and effortless that I remember staring at them for far too long.

This woman vexed me. I could feel her prickling underneath my skin. She was so calm and elegant, and she moved with sophistication. Then I remember how she danced on that stage.

How her hips swayed and dipped with such delicacy, such sensuality that it felt intimate to stand there and stare. I hated that it wasn't a private show and that I had to share her with everyone else.

She's not yours.

I ran my fingers through my hair and exhaled loudly. I wasn't focused. I don't know if it was because I couldn't stop thinking about the little Devil herself or because I couldn't remember why I was on this mission.

I pulled out the files from the night Henry died and laid them out on my desk. Henry and I worked alongside together for years. He was my best friend, my partner, and I trusted that man with my own life.

He's always protected me and watched out for me, and even with how close we were, I couldn't have known about his secret. Nyra Carter was blackmailing him for information and exploiting him for her own reasons and greed.

When Henry and I got called out that night for a disturbance, I still remember how nervous and anxious he was. He was fidgeting in his spot, chewing on his nails, and he kept checking his phone. He was jumpy as well; at any sound of the radio or static, he'd jump in his seat.

I didn't think much of it. We rarely worked the night shift, so I assumed it was because of a lack of sleep. When we arrived at the disturbance there were a bunch of rowdy kids in an abandoned warehouse fighting and yelling. I remember telling him we needed backup, but he refused.

He said they were just kids, and kids couldn't possibly be dangerous enough to need backup. His phone dinged right before we walked in, and as soon as he saw the message, a shot rifled and whooshed through the air and straight into his neck.