“Honey”—the woman whom Blake Neeson had hired for the evening threw a hand to her hip—“that’s not a lady. That’s a mannequin. You want me to kiss a mannequin?”

Blake sipped at his whiskey and gave her a nod.

The mannequin was unclothed, perfect and smooth. She came from the most recent Russian shipment, and she contained the compound. This silent lady was one of the prototypes. The final products were already in Connecticut at the greenhouse. After they were treated, the distribution would begin early next week.

The escort glanced toward Blake’s associate, Mannie, a giant of a man who hailed from the Gambia and now edged closer to the door, blocking her exit. He was tall enough and wide enough to cover nearly the entire doorway.

“And he’s gonna watch?” the woman asked him.

“Call it a threesome—well, a foursome.”

“Whatever turns you on,” she muttered as she faced the mannequin. She caressed its cheek, closed her eyes, and leaned in close to give it a kiss.

Blake watched her for a few minutes. Even the moisture on her lips wasn’t enough to affect the mannequin. Even—

Mannie’s phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

After answering it, Mannie said, “Looks like there’s someone here to see you.”

“Who knows we’re here?”

“Just the men downstairs.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s a woman. I don’t recognize her.”

Mannie showed his phone’s screen to Blake, who studied the live footage.

Attractive. Late twenties. He was intrigued. “Have the boys show her up.”

The woman from the escort agency was still making out with the mannequin.

“Keep kissing her,” he told her quietly.

“It’s your dime, sweetie.”

The two guards led the visitor in. She wore a blouse that revealed a left arm that hadn’t developed properly, leaving her with just one usable arm.

After Blake dismissed the men, he asked her, “Who are you?”

“My name is Julianne Springman. I worked with your brother.”

“My brother? When?”

“In Detroit.”

“And he told you about me? Is that how you found me?”

“He told me where to look.”

“Detroit was last summer. You just found me now?”

“I just showed up now. That doesn’t mean I just found you. You need to do a better job covering your tracks.”

“My brother is dead.”

“And I’m here to honor his life, to carry on his work.”

“Justice.”

“Yes.”

He evaluated that as he took a sip of his drink.

Mannie gestured toward the escort. “Should I arrange a car for her?”

Blake understood it as Mannie’s way of asking if he should get rid of her, which could have meant permanently or simply for the evening.

“Let her stay.” Blake turned his attention back to the woman calling herself Julianne Springman. “And what brings you here tonight, Miss Springman?”

“I want to find someone like your brother. Someone with his interests.”