I follow the car as it pulls away from the curb. Part of me wants to go back home. I don’t need to see this shit. But part of me wants to go, wants to see her. It’s like a freak show. After kissing her, after seeing her with her brother, after watching her carry an unknowable weight around when she thinks no one is watching, I’m determined to figure out the reason she stays. Because I know she can’t possibly want to. But I need proof. I need to know that his touch makes her cringe. I need to know that she’s wishing she was anywhere else, anywhere but with him. I just hope to God I see some. Surely I can’t be wrong about her. Surely the way she cares for that woman…surely the way she cares for Travis…surely the way she responds to me, I can’t be wrong about her. Surely.

Tonin takes her to a swanky restaurant, one with a wait list that’s months long. Turns out money talks, no matter how dirty it is. The only way I can stay even remotely close is to sit at the bar. The pain in the ass part, though, is that I can’t even drink since I’m driving.

What I wouldn’t give to be able to slam back a couple of shots to take the edge off.

I don’t dwell on why I’m suddenly so angry. I just watch for Tommi.

When they finally make their exit at a few minutes after nine, I hurry out to my truck, parked in a restricted spot down the street. I fight the urge to crumple up the parking ticket that’s waiting for me on my windshield. Instead, I just stick it in my console to turn in to the department when all is said and done. They can pay it, dammit.

Next, I follow the couple to an exclusive club that’s pretty well known for it’s…loose reins on its patrons. I know there’s no way in hell I’m even getting through the front door without a badge or a member to back me up, so I wait for Barber to get out of the black SUV that follows Tonin everywhere he goes before I approach.

“Can’t keep my eyes on her from out here, now can I?” I say with a crooked smile. Casual. Dedicated. Taking my job more seriously after his call today. That’s what I want him to think.

He stares at me with his bizarrely blank eyes–killer’s eyes, if I had to guess–before he nods once and turns to walk off. I follow him in, the two doormen, AKA high-end bouncers, nodding us in as we pass. I’m not surprised that Tonin and his goons are well known here.

The inside of the club is done up in black as far as the eye can see. The walls, the ceiling, the marble floor, the granite bar–everything, jet black. Even the stage, the focal point of the room, is black, and just as shiny as the shiny black pole in the center of it. There’s a dancer on it right now. She has red hair that reaches her ass and tits that look too big for her body. I’d much prefer the natural handful of Tommi’s to this woman’s. She’s pretty hot, just not what’s on my mind at the moment.

I watch her wrap one leg around the pole and grind against it as she rubs her nipples. I don’t know how, but she’s doing a great job of making stripping look classy. That’s probably a talent in and of itself. I doubt any of the girls one might find in here are common or trashy, though. Just expensive.

The stage is surrounded by deep-seated velvet chairs in black, each with a small, round table to the side, and there are several doors on two of the walls, as well as a balcony area up top. The glass is smoked, but not so much that I can’t see a pole coming from the ceiling up there, too. A private viewing room, I guess.

That’s when I see Tommi preceding Tonin through a door that opens onto steps that go up. I guess I know where she and Lance are going now.

I’m feeling pissy again when Barber lightly slaps my arm to get my attention. He motions toward the bar that wraps around the left side of the room. I nod and follow, sitting with him and two guys I’ve only seen once before, but haven’t been introduced to. Must be Tonin’s most trusted men. Like Barber, just lower.

I slide onto a stool and turn to watch the cocktail waitresses shake their ass across the room as they dart between tables. They’re wearing short, black, satin skirts and sequined tops that look like low-cut, sleeveless tuxedos. All of them are good-looking. Built like brick shithouses. Smell like expensive perfume instead of stale cigarette smoke. Nothing less than grade A pussy in this place, I’m sure.

Nothing but the best for Tonin.

Even I can hear the bitterness in the tone of my inner voice. That’s why, when Barber signals me for a drink, I order a shot of whiskey with my Coke.

My eyes continually stray to the balcony. It’s eating me up wondering what the hell is going on up there. I almost come out of my seat when I see a nice, naked ass get pressed up against the tinted glass in the balcony. It’s attached to a blonde head. I think my heart stops for a second when I see Tonin flatten his hands on either side of her head and kiss her. I can’t watch this shit! I just can’t do it.

But then I realize it’s not Tommi. Thank God! She’s not tall enough to be Tommi and her legs aren’t long enough. That only makes me feel a little better, though. I still don’t know what he’s putting her through up there. I just know that I feel like she needs me, like she needs saving. And not just tonight. Every night.

Four shots later, nothing seems to be able to take the edge off. I have to know what’s going on up there.

I tell Barber I’m going to the bathroom. After seeing several people going in one direction, I finally saw the muted male and female symbols above a short hallway right beside the stairs that lead up to the balcony. The stairs I need to sneak onto. I head that way, squelching the voice in the back of my mind that warns me that this is a bad idea. Yes, I’m supposed to get close to her, but it probably shouldn’t be eating me up like this because I can’t. The rational side of me says that I’m dangerously close to mixing business with pleasure. Every other side of me tells that side to go to hell.

I glance behind me to see if Barber’s watching. He’s not. He and the other two are eyeing a waitress that has stopped to talk to them. She’s all but sitting in Barber’s lap, which he doesn’t seem to be minding much. I turn back toward my objective.

After another quick glance behind me, rather than continuing on to the bathrooms, I open the door that leads upstairs and then jerk it shut behind me. In the darkness of the stairwell, as I look up to whatever might be waiting for me at the top, I realize I’m almost to the point of no return. I also realize that I don’t care. If I get caught, I’ll think of something, some excuse. I’m quick on my feet. You have to be to go under. I was born with the skill to do this and I’m not afraid to use it.