He checked his phone. There was a page of requests—clients looking for girls, and one urgent request from his best client, probably the only person in the world he would call a friend. Cyrus. That was the one he called back.

“What’s up?”

His client cursed. “You heard about the bust?”

Ice shook his head, though he was on the phone. “I’ve been traveling.”

“Ice, we have a problem. They took down a whole cell. Mesa is gone.”

Ice sat. This was big. A lot of his girls went straight to Mesa; it was like an airport hub for his clients. This was going to hurt business, that was for sure.

“Wow, how’d that happen?”

“Feds got lucky. Look, that’s not important. I’ve got a job for you.”

“I’ll be collecting girls as—”

“No, put that on hold. I want you to find a piece of merchandise the Feds took from the compound in Mesa. Chevy took something that belongs to me and I want it back.”

Ice knew that name. Chevy, aka Roberta. He’d procured her for Cyrus . . . he had to think about how long ago. Two, maybe three years—it all ran together. She was trouble from the beginning, too smart for her own good, and Cyrus had let her get too close, the silly old fool. Chevy had almost been allowed into the inner circle. Ice had noticed that as Cyrus aged, he was taking more and more chances, getting more and more sloppy. Now his little pet had taken something from Cyrus and presumably given it to the Feds. Ice digested this information. The Feds took everything when they served a warrant and pounced on anything incriminating.

“How do you know she didn’t already give it to the cops?” he asked.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I? Besides, it compromises you as well.”

Ice felt anger surge as it often did when his safety was threatened by other people’s stupidity. Even though this man was a friend, Ice really only trusted himself. That was why he liked to work alone. He counted to ten as he realized that he couldn’t be compromised that much. His clients didn’t really know him—they only thought they did. Even his friend only knew a fraction about him and what he did with his time.

“What is it?”

“My iPad with all my business information on it. Get it back. This is worth a couple of rocks to me. An extra one if you terminate the thief. I’m not even concerned about collateral damage. Do what you need to do. Scorched-earth time.”