Chapter 268

Chapter 268

The relationship between William and Evelyn didn't attract attention as celebrities do, so when people discovered they were both wearing wedding rings, it was already a week later.

But that's a story for another time. Right now, America is full of undercurrents.

Daryl had been in America for three days but hadn't gotten any useful information or leads at all. After hanging up on Francis's wife's tearful phone call, he let out a long sigh.

He got up, planning to go downstairs to the living room to grab a soda.

The person who lent them the house was an American businessman. He didn't have any other requirements except that they couldn't drink alcohol in the house.

Fortunately, none of them had drinking problems, so they simply ignored that rule—after all, they wouldn't buy alcohol anyway.

When Daryl came down to the living room, he happened to see Daniel standing by the sofa. Daniel was holding a can of soda.

"Daryl."

Daniel nodded at him, his eyes following him as he went to the fridge to get a soda, then smiled. "Can't sleep?"

Daryl nodded and downed half the bottle in one go. The carbonation rushing to his head made him burp without any regard for his image.

"Any new developments?"

He sat down on the sofa and casually turned on the TV.

Since most of the people they were dealing with were gang members, Daniel and his crew had been forced to adjust their working hours to nighttime.

But only Daryl was following American hours, while Daniel and the others were still on Thalassia time.

"Nothing yet, but I'm going to meet someone in a bit. Supposedly, he saw Francis at a bar once." Daniel also sat down on the sofa and casually opened a bag of chips to eat.

Daryl glanced at him and reached for the chips without hesitation, his mouth not stopping even while eating. "Is the information reliable?"

"Not sure." Daniel looked at him. "Want to come along? We're bringing guns, so we can keep you safe."

He said it very naturally. Daryl hesitated a bit, but was actually tempted.

After all, since arriving in America, he'd basically never left this house. Daniel and his people were the ones gathering information, negotiating, and doing everything else.

This made him seem somewhat useless, as if it didn't matter whether he was there or not.

Daryl certainly didn't want to come across as that worthless.

So after a brief hesitation, Daryl nodded. "What time are we leaving?"

"Ten-thirty." Daniel raised his hand to check his watch and put the chips in his hands into Daryl's lap. "Half an hour left. You can get ready."

As he finished speaking, people started coming down from upstairs one after another.

They were all Daniel's subordinates. When Francis was around, they took orders from Francis, but if Francis wasn't there, Daniel was their direct supervisor.

As for Daryl, in their eyes, he was at most just a Johnson family member.

"Daniel."

"Daniel."

Greetings rang out one after another in the living room.

Daryl didn't mind that they acted like he didn't exist. After all, these people weren't his subordinates and didn't even get paid by him.

Some of them had never even met him before.

"This is Mr. Daryl Johnson." But Daniel still introduced him, even though he was currently wearing casual home clothes, holding a soda in one hand and chips in the other. "He'll be coming with us, too."

The people who had just greeted Daniel all turned to look at once.

"Hello, Mr. Johnson." They greeted him in unison, and that was it.

Daryl waved his hand and got up to go upstairs.

He quickly changed clothes and came back down.

As a son of the Johnson family, his closet was mostly filled with suits for going out and meeting people.

When he came down, he was elegant and refined, with grace in every movement—the very picture of a wealthy family's style.

"Let's go."

Daryl smiled lightly at Daniel, waiting for him to lead the way.

Daniel nodded and headed out first.

After him came Daryl and his subordinates.

Daryl walked in the middle of the group. His height wasn't particularly outstanding among these people, but his manner was unique—a special mix of nobility and casualness.

He was still holding that half-eaten bag of chips, his mouth and hands never stopping.

But even so, at a glance, he was the one who seemed most distinguished in the group.

This wasn't just a visual effect from his clothes, but more of a first impression that came from him as a person.

Daniel walked ahead, listening to the constant crunching sounds behind him, and couldn't help but look back. "Mr. Johnson, you'd better finish that thing before we get to the negotiating table."

As he said this, Daryl was holding a chip between two fingers, half of it already in his mouth. As Daniel finished speaking, rapid chewing sounds followed.

Daniel didn't stop walking. After saying that, he turned his head back around, with no intention of waiting for Daryl's response.

Fortunately, Daryl only had half a bag of chips left. His mouth was big, and he deliberately sped up, finishing the rest in just a few bites.

The meeting place was at a bar.

Daryl was completely out of place with the atmosphere here.

Even Daniel and the others with him seemed a bit green in this kind of place.

But Daniel had people from Seraphim under him. They were bigger and more muscular. Although their exposed skin had no tattoos, their eyes had a bloodthirsty look—clearly not people to mess with.

What's more, except for Daryl, they were all carrying guns.

The guns hung openly at their waists, quite intimidating, keeping many curious looks at bay.

"Who are you looking for, sir?"

Someone came up to Daryl, clearly being provocative.

"Emory." Daniel stepped in front of him, holding his handgun in one hand to push back the approaching guy. "Emory Buckner."

"Watch your attitude." The guy was still grinning even with a gun pointed at him, but when he mentioned Emory, the smirk disappeared, replaced by a serious look full of suspicion and scrutiny. "Looking for Emory? Where are you from?"

"Rocco Hightower sent us." Daniel, who'd been around the underworld, obviously understood the hidden meaning in his words. He lowered his voice a bit and spoke slowly. "He said, number 32."

After saying this, Daniel glanced up at the bar's second floor.

They were at the edge of the bar's pool area. Looking up from here, he could see some of the private room doors on the second floor, with Arabic numerals on the door plates.

But Daniel didn't see where number 32 was.

He looked back down and put all his attention back on the guy in front of him.

"I'm Elisha. Follow me."

Daniel followed, and right behind him came Daryl and the subordinates.