Amid the chaos, I catch sight of Alex’s light-gray Oxford button-down, which is currently being wrenched in the thick paws of the guy I picked a fight with. Shit, I hope he survives this. The bouncers can’t let it go on for long. The fight is distracting from the money inside the ring.

Come on. Come on…

I look to the bleachers. Money is being exchanged, men laughing and pointing as they take bets on Alex’s fight. Then finally, Ericson descends the bleachers. He’s recognized Alex.

Alex takes a hard hit to the stomach and crumples over. Damn, that probably hurt.

A foghorn blares. More brawny men break through the crowd to separate the fight. Nearly as quickly as it started, the altercation is broken up.

He’ll live. I jump down and head for the main entrance. As I near the door bouncer from earlier, he gives me a curious frown.

“Not my scene,” I say as I pass him. “Too violent.”

I cross the street and find a spot in clear view of the warehouse. Not sure how long I’ll have to wait, I pull up Lenora’s contact and use the time to place a call to my client.

“Lucy—?” Her tone is frantic as she answers. Lucy is the name I gave her. “What happened? I haven’t heard from you since last week…and I thought—”

“Everything is fine, Lenora,” I assure her. When clients don’t hear from me, they assume I’ve vanished, along with their money. It’s a risk they take. “I did run into a snag with our original plan, so I had to improvise.”

“Oh.” Her voice drops an octave with her relief. “So everything is still happening.”

“Of course.” I crane my neck as I keep watch of the warehouse. “You’ll hear from me again once it’s done.”

“Wait—”

“What is it?” I’m anxious to get off the line. I don’t like talking over the phone for long periods. Also, I might need to check on Alex; make sure he’s not strung up on a meat hook.

“I found something…”

The unsure waver of her voice captures my full attention, and I turn my back to the warehouse. “What did you find, Lenora?”

“I wasn’t snooping,” she says, trying to convince me. “I was actually using Ericson’s tablet because my phone died…and it was just there. He leaves it out, knowing I have no reason to spy. I always do what you say. Never let on that I suspect him of anything.”

I nod a few times, mentally hurrying her along. “You don’t have to apologize for looking through your husband’s things. They’re your things, too.” I’ve never understood the big privacy deal in relationships. The understood rule carved in stone. I feel like it was an invention of men during the turn of the century, when women were coming into the workforce. A way to keep them complacent, ignorant. Because before then, there wasn’t a woman on the planet who didn’t have her privacy invaded by every man in her life.