American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 184: The investigation is halfway through and there are no more clues.
In his hazy drowsiness, Beta felt the mattress sink slightly as Katalia's warm body passed over him.

Her loose hair brushed against his chest, carrying the lingering scent of cedar and white musk, and her body felt cool as it slid against his skin.

He heard the phone being picked up, and the light from the screen shone on his eyelids.

"Who is it?" Katalia's voice was still sleepy.

Blue's voice came from the other end of the phone: "This is Blue, looking for Mr. Wick."

Katalia gave a soft "hmm".

She slid into Beta's arms, her cool arms encircling his neck, and held the phone to his ear: "It's Blue on the phone."

Her breath touched Beta's earlobe.

Beta tightened his arms, his palm stroking her supple waistline.

"What's wrong, Blue?" Beta asked with her eyes closed.

"We've found the Frank family's little brat," Blue said on the other end of the phone. "10 O'Clock Club, a nightclub in Uptown New York."

Beta opened his eyes.

He took the phone, put his arm around Katalia's waist, and sat up, the blanket slipping off them.

"Alive or dead?" Beta was unusually clear-headed.

The crisp sound of keyboard typing came from the background: "It's not confirmed yet. The surveillance footage shows that the kid was playing alone in the diamond VIP room, and at 3:17 a.m. he got into an argument with a man wearing a camel hair coat."

Amidst the static of the electrical circuits, the ticking sound of video playback could be heard: "He first drew his gun and escaped through the fire escape."

Beta held the phone between her chin and pulled the peacock blue silk down comforter over them, asking, "And then?"

"The surveillance cameras in the fire escape were under maintenance," Bru said. "After that, he just vanished into thin air. Even the cameras in the underground parking garage didn't capture him. The strangest thing is that the man also disappeared five minutes later."

Beta rubbed his temples hard with his fingertips. "Damn it," he uttered through gritted teeth, his voice filled with suppressed rage.

This is clearly a scheme aimed at him.

Even now, Beta still cannot determine the true identity of the mastermind behind the scenes. Was it the Frank family who orchestrated this whole thing, or was it some sworn enemy of the Antonio family who was secretly manipulating everything?

Beta's fingertips lingered on his brow, then slowly slid down to his temples.

He took a deep breath: "I have a lead. A Cadillac Escalade, all black privacy tint, confirmed to be a vehicle registered to the Frank family."

His gaze drifted out the window: "But the driver's identity is questionable. Focus on tracing the last known location of this vehicle."

Blue's response came through the receiver, accompanied by the rapid tapping of a keyboard in the background: "Okay."

Beta ended the call and threw his phone onto the bedside table, making a thud.

Katalia's arms wrapped around his neck again, and she nestled in his embrace.

The sky outside the window was already turning a pale white, and the morning light filtered through the gauze curtains, casting hazy patches of light on the carpet.

Beta was no longer sleepy, and he helped Katalia up by supporting her hips and legs.

Katalia clung to him like a koala, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her cheek pressed against his.

He carried her toward the bathroom, the frosted glass door creating a slight breeze as it opened and closed.

Turn on the shower, and warm water cascades down like a waterfall, splashing sparkling water droplets between the two of them.

Katalia still refused to let go, letting the water soak through her hair.

"Are you cheating?" He gently patted Katalia's hand. "Get down. After your shower, you still have to deal with the Fabio family's mess." Katalia reluctantly let go, landing face-to-face with Beta under the showerhead. Water droplets condensed on her eyelashes, falling softly with each blink.

Beta rubbed the warm shampoo in his palm, and the milky white foam expanded like clouds between his fingers.

His gaze swept over her glistening skin: "Turn around."

Katalia obediently turned around, tilting her head slightly like a plant receiving the baptism of sunlight.

Beta's fingers ran through her damp hair, her fingertips massaging her scalp, and foam gradually covered her thick, seaweed-like hair. Warm water continued to wash over them, forming swirling eddies at their feet.

Feeling Beta's gentle scrubbing motions, Katalia murmured softly, "I suddenly realized that you've never washed my hair like this before." Her voice was filled with languid satisfaction.

Beto carefully washed the strands of hair that were stuck together with the liquid: "Nonsense. I clearly remember it happening once."

His fingertips gently combed through the knotted ends of his hair: "It must have been when we were kids."

Katalia tilted her head, water droplets splashing from her hair: "Really?"

Beta hesitated for a moment, then continued to gently rub her fingers: "Definitely. I remember it very clearly."

Catalia's voice was tinged with laughter: "Childhood memories don't count."

Beta paused slightly, the foam sliding down his wrist: "Why?"

"Because at that time, I never imagined that we would end up together," Katalia said.

"Really?" Beta's fingers continued to gently comb through her long hair.
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Beta pushed open the office door, the room filled with the smell of cigarettes mixed with leather.

Ashley wasn't there; today was her day for a full medical checkup.

Fulton leaned back on the leather sofa, his eyes glazed over with a madness, yet his intellect remained sharp. Instead of munching on a fruit platter as he had in the conference room, he picked at the Economist magazine Ashley had left on the sofa, his fingernails scraping against the glossy paper with a soft hissing sound.

McCree nestled in the armchair, exhaling smoke rings and carefully flicking ash into the Baccarat crystal ashtray. With each flick, he brushed away the ash that had settled on his suit trousers.

Foldy stood in front of Beta's desk, looking down at the gilded folders but not daring to touch them, his eyes filled with curiosity and awe, as if wondering what kind of business this big shot had to deal with every day.

Sterling curled up in the corner of the sofa, his thumb flying across the screen, the tapping sound as dense as raindrops, a mysterious smile occasionally appearing on his lips.

The mute is the most carefree.

She walked straight to the cigar wood liquor cabinet with brass inlays, her fingers brushing over the bottles of aged whiskey.

Under the watchful eyes of several Antonio family security guards, she pulled out a bottle of 1964 Macallan and examined it against the light; the wine shimmered with an amber glow in the glass.

Beta pushed open the door and walked in.

Fulton casually tossed the Economist magazine he was holding onto the coffee table.

McCree stubbed out his cigarette at the bottom of the crystal ashtray.

Sterling tapped his thumb on the phone screen to turn it off.

The mute woman held the bottle of 1964 Macallan whisky and gently placed it on the desk, the bottom of the bottle clinking against the solid wood surface.

"Shall we open a bottle and try it?" the mute man said.

The other three all looked at the mute woman with surprise in their eyes, clearly not expecting her to make such a suggestion.

Beta unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down: "Let's open a bottle."

This statement caused the other three to show expressions of surprise again, and they all turned their gazes to Beta, not expecting him to agree so readily.

(End of this chapter)