Bianca will be safe.
She’s beloved by the Aces patrons. There would be an uproar if Rouge did something to her.
At least, I hope to God that’s the case.
I shoot her a quick text.
You make it out of the foyer?
A few endless seconds pass before she replies.
Yes.
Good. One less thing to worry about.
I scroll up to the picture she sent me of the guest manifest the evening of the fifteenth. Most of the names are foreign to me, some I recognize as higher-ups in the local government.
Damn it. I was hoping there would be someone I know from the hospital on the list. Someone I could call right now and ask a few questions.
I look up and down the list of names until I spy one that I recognize.
Pia Linnet.
She’s not a member of the club in her own right. Looks like she came as some guy’s date that night.
Pia is a nice girl. She and I met on a dating app a couple years ago, went on a few dates. There wasn’t much of a spark, but she was a fun fling in between relationships. We parted on decent terms.
And by decent terms, I mean we mutually ghosted one another.
Pia was the adventurous type, the kind of woman who can’t be tied down to one man. I’m guessing she goes to the club a lot, every time on the arm of a different gentleman.
I have her number. She’s a lot of fun, and a few times when we were mid-fling she even invited a friend of hers—usually a stone-cold fox by the name of Seraphina, but one time she brought another man—to join.
The three-way with another dude was an interesting experience. I didn’t hate it, but I much preferred the rendezvous we shared with Seraphina.
Of course, neither she nor Pia holds a candle to Bianca. Not in beauty, not in brains, not in general humanity. But a fuck is a fuck. Sometimes that’s all a man needs to get him through a rough day.
I dial her number, bring the receiver to my ear.
“Why, Dr. O’Rourke,” she purrs. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
Fuck. It’s late at night. She thinks this is a booty call.
“Hey, Pia,” I say, hoping the evenness of my tone will make it clear that I’m not calling for that reason, “do you have a second to talk?”
“For you, always, Doctor.”
I rub at the back of my neck. “First off, I’m not calling to invite you over.”
She makes an audible pout from the other end. “Too bad. We had a lot of fun.”
“We did, but I’m serious. Do you have a second to talk?”
“Of course.” Her tone finally straightens out. “What’s up?”
“Okay, cool.” I take a deep breath in. “This might sound a little stalker-y, but were you at Aces Underground a month or so ago? The night of February fifteenth?”
A pause. “Yes, I was. Why?”
