“Abernathy used to own it. Back when it was the Relick. King Diamond is owned by–”
“Dylan Decker,” I mutter. “God fucking damn it. What else is he doing besides coaxing patrons out using cheap sheets and a continental breakfast?”
“That’s not all that snake is up to,” he goes on.
“Of course it’s not.”
“Apparently they’re mimicking our branding, our benefits for Gold Members, and tossing in extra perks,” he says.
“They’re swiping our Gold Members out from under us?” I snap.
“We’ve lost five. Another two haven’t renewed.”
“Anything else?” I huff.
“Word is he’s got someone working on the inside,” he says.
“Inside? Inside where?” I ask.
“Here.”
“Why would he need an insider at the Opal Room?”
“Because we have the best girls in Sin City. And where our girls sin, people follow.”
“Fucking perfect,” I say, downing the rest of my drink.
“What do you think the best plan of action is?” he asks.
“We have to figure out who the fuck he’s got hiding in the shadows. We have enough cameras. Let’s get men reviewing them. Maybe have a couple security guards do rounds instead of staying posted throughout the club. Incognito maybe. Set themup with girls so they look like patrons. If they’re stupid enough to approach the girls, we’ll catch them on the spot.”
“Good plan,” Diego says before taking another sip of his beer as he goes back to watching the stage. I only wish I could be that casual about all of this. Unfortunately, I don’t think there is going to be a quick fix to this. It’s not just about solving the problem. I’m not just looking to put an end to it. I’m going to put an end to them.
Chapter 14
Ellie
“Remind me again why we go running?” I pant as my sister and I jog around the indoor track at the gym. As much as I love being on the second level of a building that smells like rubber flooring, spray tans, and sweat is a nice break from the blistering Nevada heat outside — it isn’t as rejuvenating as running outside. But with blonde hair and fair skin, the sun has never actually been my friend.
“Because it’s good for us. Because it lowers cortisol levels and reduces stress,” Rachel answers as we round a corner.
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I hate running enough that my stress levels are probably going up right now.”
Rachel just giggles. “I’m also trying to lose another ten pounds before the wedding. I’m determined to fit into that Vera Wang trumpet dress, and nobody wants to be a frumpy trumpet.”
I slow to a walk, taking a sip from my water bottle. “Okay, first of all, sis, you’re not frumpy. Trumpet-shaped or otherwise. And second, I thought you were going for the classic cut. The one with the halter top.”
“I was, but I realized that one doesn’t show off my butt enough. I have done way too many weighted squats to waste mymoney on a dress that hides my toned glutes,” Rachel smiles, and I can only laugh at that.
“I feel bad,” I tell her. “I don’t even remember the trumpet dress.”
“Oh, I tried it on the day you were working,” she says. “But it’s okay. Courtney and Jen went with me.”
I frown a little at that and take a sip of my water to hide the pout that I’m sure she’s already detected.
“They’re my best friends, Ellie, and they’re going to be in the wedding too,” she says, pausing to stretch her hamstrings.
“I know. But I’m your sister. Your maid of honor. I feel like I’ve been too checked out or busy to help with any of it,” I tell her.
