The front door opened and banged shut. Providence nudged him away and pushed off the stool as Warren Hott entered the club. “Hello, hello,” he called.
Dakota shot Providence an easy smile before he walked toward Warren. The two men shook hands and Dakota introduced Providence.
“Hello, Ms. Reynolds.” Warren was playing this like a pro. “I’m Warren Hott.”
“Please, call me Providence.”
He glanced at her cheek. “What happened?”
“A guy came in here and we got into it,” Providence replied.
Warren’s eyebrows jutted up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Royally pissed, but fine.”
“Did you call the police?”
“No. They’ve already been here once to speak with us.” She pressed the bag of ice to her cheek. “Nothing a shot of whiskey won’t cure.” Her cheek throbbed, but the pain would fade away soon enough. Physical pain was nothing when compared with the emotional turmoil she carried with her day in and day out. “Who wants a cuppa joe and who’s joining me in a shot of whiskey?”
“Coffee would be great,” Warren said.
“Whiskey,” Dakota replied.
With mug in hand, Warren made himself comfortable in a nearby booth and opened the case of his tablet. Dakota gestured for Providence to slide in, and he sat beside her. She loved being inches away from him, but she needed to maintain a respectable distance, so she scooted to the corner.
And damn, if he didn’t reposition, so his thigh pressed against hers. Energy skittered up her leg. The man brought the heat and she would be more than happy to play in his fire.
No, no playing with fire.
“I’ve got a source at the police station,” Warren said before logging in on his tablet. “She told me that Matt was bound with some type of black rope. They’re analyzing it to determine the source. Also, the detective assigned to the case is combing through surveillance video from the convention center the night of the banquet to see who he might have come in contact with.”
Oh, God, no.“The club uses black hemp rope,” Providence said.
“Dakota, tell me as much as you can about what happened,” Warren said.
As Dakota recounted the events, Providence wanted to add that she’d sat with Matt and heard his rants firsthand. But now wasn’t the time to come clean, so she stayed silent. Her guts roiled from the guilt.
Warren stopped typing. “And when you got here, what happened?”
“I spent time with a member in a private room, then I had a drink with the club owner, Stryker Truman,” Dakota said.
“The security cameras were on,” Providence added. “I can forward you a copy of the public areas, but there’s no surveillance in the private suites.”
Warren nodded. “And then what happened?”
“I spent more personal time with the woman from earlier,” Dakota explained.
“I’ll need to speak with her so she can corroborate your story.”
Here we go.
“It was me,” Providence said. “The first time, we were together for about forty minutes. I left the suite sometime around twelve thirty.”
Warren slid his gaze from one to the other. “Okay, and then what?”
“I waited in the second-floor lounge for her,” Dakota continued. “Thirty minutes before the club closed, we returned to a private suite.”
“How long were you two together?”
