If she’s new, that means that she replaced someone.
Maybe that’s a clue. But I’m not going to harass a poor waitress in the middle of a busy shift.
Mr. Night mentioned that Alissa and Maddox recently spent some extra time in Diamonds. The dealers there are allowed to speak—thanks to my conversation with Rouge, I know this as a fact—but I won’t be able to get them away from their tables while people are playing. I could wait for a lull, but the club is hopping tonight.
Besides, even if I do get a chance to talk to them, all the employees here are in Rouge’s pocket. If they have information, they won’t give it to me. They’ll just talk in circles like Mr. Night and Chet do.
I’ll walk the perimeter of the club. Look around for any clues.
I have no idea what I’m even fucking looking for, but it’s better than sitting in the corner.
I walk around Spades, ease into Diamonds, pull through Clubs…
And just before I hit Hearts… I stop at the velvet curtain where Bianca and that lecherous old man disappeared.
I can’t help it. I know I won’t like what I’m going to hear, but I listen anyway. The curtains are billowy so I don’t attract any attention from the other patrons.
I’m expecting to hear moaning, guttural grunts.
But I hear…nothing.
Nothing?
They’re not even talking?
The curtains are the only things separating this area from the rest of the club. It’s not like it’s soundproofed.
What if something’s wrong?
What if—oh, God—what if the old man has silenced Bianca? Is performing some kind of horrifying, torturous ritual on her?
I’m no white knight. But I know when a woman needs to be saved.
I feel it in the rush of my blood through my veins. The electricity jolting through my nerves, all the way to the ends of my fingers.
Fuck it.
Worst case I interrupt two people in the throes of a very silent fuck.
I don’t want Bianca fucking another guy anyway. So it’s a win-win.
I walk inside.
And my jaw drops.
I was right. The old man is naked, his wrinkled body looking like a deflated ball on top of the bed.
But…he’s not moving.
Surely even this guy can get it up for a woman as beautiful as Bianca.
And if he can’t, a few Viagras will do the trick.
I take a few tentative steps closer, and that’s when I hear it.
A muffled moan—a female voice—underneath the old man.
But it’s not a moan of pleasure. It’s one of panic, of terror even.
