“Who are you gonna get fired?” Cole slowly drawled.

“Uh… Sloane.”

“Yeah, that’s who I was afraid you were talking about.”

“It’s the perfect—”

“Way to get your ass kicked,” Wilson finished my sentence.

“Lorenzo is—”

I was again cut off by Wilson. “Going to be taken down.”

“You don’t—”

“Understand?”

My annoyance sparked and I snapped.

“Stop fucking cutting me off.”

“Then stop thinking crazy, calm the fuck down, and go get ready to go to work.”

The cool ocean breeze coming in from the open French doors did nothing to calm me. Nothing to settle the riot of nerves bundled in my chest. Nothing to soothe the worry.

After months of working at the club, we finally had a lead. But it was just a start and there was no telling how deep it went. Was Lorenzo acting on his own, selling girls on the side, or was his father involved? Were there other members who went to Lorenzo to sate their perversions? And there was Elise and the girl who reportedly ran the grounds naked. The woman none of the staff had seen.

I pushed back from the table and stood looking at Wilson. “We need to dig deeper into the staff members who were questioned by the police?”

“We did. They came up clean,” Wilson reminded me.

“Then we missed something. After the club closes a cleaning crew comes in,” I told him something he knew. Not only was the club’s schedule in my reports but Wilson and Cole had both watched the mansion overnight. “Every morning one of the groundskeepers works outside, there’s a day maid, and the chef comes in early afternoon. If a woman was held at the mansion after the club closed there’s no way someone didn’t see her there, especially if she was running around outside naked. Even if the gardener missed her, that house has three-hundred-sixty-five views of the property—the day maid would have. And where did she go? Who went out to get her? Where was she kept? Someone working that day saw her. Someone had to have heard her. And she didn’t just vanish, someone took her off that property. I don’t believe Lorenzo is working this by himself. He’s got someone inside that club.”

“Could be a member,” Cole tossed out.

“Could be. But my gut’s telling me it’s staff. That’s not to say there aren’t members who are buying what he’s selling on the side.”

My stomach clenched at the thought of Sloane being in the mix of men who were possibly at the club for more than a good time. Men with dark souls who would sink to the shadiest pits of depravity. Getting her fired was sounding better and better. Wilson was right—she’d be pissed as all fuck, taking away her control. Her ability to act out her steadfast loyalty to her friend would lead Sloane to never speak to me again.

But she’d be safe.

And in a few weeks, I’d be gone and she’d go back to her life and we’d forever be separated by distance. So what did I care if that separation came early? She’d be out of Lorenzo’s sight. She’d be clear of the danger.