I slam my fist in the elevator buttons, closing the doors behind us and sending us back up to the private rooms. George’s eyes cloud over. Her nails dig into my arm, biting my skin.
“George?” She doesn’t register my voice. I shake her arm, try again. “George, listen to me. I know what he did to you. Iknow. I thought we dealt with Alec LeMarque, but he’s like a fucking whack-a-mole. We knock that fucker down and he keeps popping up again. Now he’s here, and I can’t allow that to stand. So let’s play this out. We could go to the police. That’s a possibility. We could tell our stories. You could submit yourself for whatever evidence they require, open your entire personal life up for scrutiny. His lawyers will paint you as the weird loner chick wanting to get some leverage from the up-and-coming actor, probably trying to promote your podcast. ‘Hasn’t Alec been through enough without these baseless allegations?’ they’ll say. Nod if I’m right.”
George nods. Her eyes dart to the doors, and a tremor shakes her whole body.
“So that’s not an option. You went to the authorities when you found out about your dad’s remains, but they didn’t want to know, so you got justice for yourself. But you’re not on your own anymore. We’re ride or die, remember? So, my friend, that fucker is out there laughing and eating profiteroles like everything is right with the world. He hasn’t learned a thing, and I won’t abide that. Not for another minute. So what I want to know is, do you want justice? The kind of justice only Claudia August can deal out?”
The doors open onto the private rooms. Daphne’s screams echo along the hall, mingling with the other moans and grunts. The boys are busy. We girls can handle this for now. I shove my foot into the elevator door, blocking it from moving. When George looks back at me, her eyes harden.
“Make sure he never hurts anyone again.”
“There’s my George.” I kiss her forehead. I let my foot slide out of the door, and I punch in the floor for the bar. The elevator jerks back down. “I’m going to ask you to do something, and it’s going to completely suck. It’s the worst thing I’ll ever ask you to do, and I’m so sorry. But I need you to go back into the party and get Alec LeMarque alone.”
George bites her lip as the doors open. “Why?”
“Because if I go over there, he’s going to make a scene. He won’t come with me willingly. But you…”
“He won’t believe me, either,” she says. “Not after Antony’s PE class.”
“He will if you tell him you were jealous of the attention he gave me.” I grab her shoulders. “I know it’s fucking disgusting. But can you dig down deep and find the words to convince him to follow you into the backstage bathroom? I’ll do the rest.”
She shakes her head. Tears pool at the corners of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Claws. I wish I could, but I can’t face him…”
“For fuck’s sake, I’ll do it,” another familiar voice says. “What am I doing?”
I whirl around to see Yara, standing in the hallway wearing a server’s uniform, a tray of profiteroles perched on her arm.
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to see you in action, and I thought you could do with an extra pair of eyes, so I got myself hired by the catering company,” Yara says, like it’s obvious. She holds the platter out of George, who’s nervously stuffing profiteroles into her mouth. “So tell me what I’m doing.”
“Seducing a bastard rapist scumbag so he follows you into the backstage bathroom.”
“To be honest, I’m a little offended you didn’t think to ask me in the first place.” Yara yanks George into the bathroom. “I’ll need to borrow your dress.”
They emerge five minutes later, wearing each other’s clothes. George picks up the tray, while Yara sashays her way over to Alec’s group. Within moments, she has them all laughing, and she steps close to Alec, touching his arm as she smooths down his tie.
“Holy, shit, she’s doing it,” I whisper to George, who nods. One of the Eldritch Club members snaps her fingers at George, and she hurries away, platter in hand. I cast one last look over at Yara, who’s touching Alec’s arm and smiling in all the right ways, and sneak back upstairs to see how the guys are getting on with Daphne.
I turn the key in the lock and poke my head in. Noah appears in the doorway, the front of his shirt splattered with blood. Daphne’s head is slumped against her shoulder, her body limp. “We got the location. He’s living in a vacation house they own in Nantucket, purchased under a fake name.”
“Good. I need you both downstairs.”
Noah peers down at his bloody shirt. “What’s going on?”
“Alec LeMarque is here, and we’re going to make him pay.”
18
Noah
We leave an unconscious Daphne tied to the cross for Nero to deal with, and follow Claws back down to the party. I’m barely off the elevator when I spy the bastard. Alec has peeled Yara away from his group, and he has her back up against a pillar, one elbow leaning close to her face, hemming her in. Yara tugs on his shirt collar, looking as though she’s exactly where she wants to be.
Damn, that woman has a natural gift for subterfuge.
Beside me, Claudia beams her cold smile. I think she sees a lot of herself in Yara. Her nails dig into my arm. “We should get in position.”
The two of us move toward the backstage door, sliding past George on the way. Claudia gives her wrist a squeeze, alerting her that shit is about to go down. We slip through the hidden door into the backstage area, pushing our way through racks of costumes, disassembled stripper poles, and piles of sky-high pumps. At the back of the room is the bathroom for Nero’s dancers – one row of stalls, another of sinks and lighted mirrors, with hair straighteners and makeup scattered across every surface.
