Page 62 of East

“The waitstaff and bartenders will still get their wages for the evening, and I’ll throw in another twenty percent to account for lost tips.”

“Again, are you sure you can⁠—”

“For God’s sake, Leo. Shut the fuck up. Everything will be fine.”

“But we’ve never closed Jade before. Not even when all that news about Rouge Montrose came out⁠—”

“Then we’re all due for a fucking break. Tell the other staff they get a free night off. Enjoy it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. If you’re sure…”

I glance at Thea. “I’ve never been more sure of something in my damned life. Talk later.” I end the call and cross toward Thea, who is fixing her makeup with a small compact.

She frowns. “You don’t have to close the club on my account. Please, if you need the business, you can leave me alone. I’ll be okay.”

“The Jade Sanctum is in perfectly good shape. We can afford a dark night.”

“Are you sure?”

“Some things are more important than money.” I sit back down next to her and caress her cheek. “And like I said, one night of lost profits won’t tank the business.”

“It won’t help it survive either.”

“It’s already done. I can’t reverse it.” I help her to her feet. “This has been a busy night for both of us. A busy day and night. Not to mention the night before. We both need some rest, and more important than that, I need to make sure you get home safe.”

She looks at me, her eyes narrowed. But then she smiles. “Thank you, Aus. You’re quite a guy.”

She doesn’t know the half of it.

I’ve done a lot of bullshit in the past, and this is a good chance for me to make up for it.

Because I know in the deepest recesses of my heart that Thea did not kill Kin.

How do I know that?

Because Thea isn’t a killer.

She’s nothing like them.

I know, because I’ve met real killers.

Tonight’s the night.

The night I’m supposed to make someone disappear.

I’ve had a rock in my gut all day. This doesn’t feel right.

But Rouge Montrose is a powerful woman. I looked her up after our meeting two weeks ago, and she’s a big deal in Chicago. Rubs elbows with all the higher-ups, including powerful politicians and bigwigs. She’s by far the most influential person to ever see my show, and she can mold me into the next Copperfield.

I get to the theater. Everything is how I left it. My stage manager has placed all my important set pieces on the stage.

But everything looks a little cleaner. There are no crumbs on the floor of the house, no dust on the stage. I look up. All the flickering lightbulbs have been replaced.

Who did this? Certainly not the people who own the theater. They couldn’t give a shit about how they present themselves. In Vegas, space is a premium once you’re this close to the Strip. As long as the money is coming in, appearance is the last thing they care about.

“Enjoying my improvements, Mr. Waverly?” a cool voice glides into my ear.

I turn around. It’s Rouge, dressed as lavishly as before, this time in a gold evening gown complete with a white fox stole—its head and paws still attached—around her neck.