Page 22 of Stone

Then he muttered, “And I did find him.”

“He better be fucking dead.”

“He doesn’t know we’re onto him yet.”

“Why the fuck not?” I bellowed.

“Because we think with the right bread crumbs, he could get Portia to lead us back to the boss.”

“You have forty-eight hours to convince me this will work, or I’m comin’ down there and putting a bullet between his eyes.”

King was quiet for a moment, then spoke in a low tone laced with warning. “I get that she’s your woman, Stone, which is why I’ve put up with your attitude. And why I’m agreeing to your demand. But don’t push your fucking luck.”

Then he hung up.

I jumped to my feet and ran my hands through my hair before slamming my fists on the desktop.

I was running out of patience and if we didn’t figure something out soon, I was gonna lose my shit—which usually ended with someone dead.

Two days later, Britta and I were working in my office when the door slammed open, and Deviant stalked in, holding an open laptop. “I fucking got her,” he grunted before spinning around and going right back out.

What the fuck?

Britta jumped to her feet, but I put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from following him. “Sorry, baby. This could involve club business. Promise to fill you in on anything I can after we’re done.”

She sighed but nodded and slumped back down into her chair. I gave her a quick, hard kiss, then hurried after Deviant, ending up in Fox’s office.

Deviant repeated his statement and set his computer on the prez’s desk.

Fox stood and came around to stand by me so we could both see the screen.

“Seven years ago, Portia Lawrence married Gregory Truitt in Las Vegas. A week later, the marriage was annulled. But in that span of time, she created a new identity. P. Truitt. The only reason I finally stumbled across the marriage was because Grey and I have been combing through her life, everywhere she went, what she did while she was there, who she was with. Anything we could find.

“We followed her trail to Gregory Truitt once we realized that she’d had dinner with him multiple times, and they spent the night together. There was nothing else on her credit card, so on a hunch, I pulled his credit card charges. That’s when I found that he’d paid for a package at a little white wedding chapel.”

“How did you know he married Portia?” I asked. It was the obvious assumption, but I wasn’t going after this woman with nothing but Deviant’s hunch.

“Grey has another contact in Vegas. They hunted down the marriage certificate. It was only filed in a tiny courthouse that still hasn’t digitized their records. The only way to prove to the rest of the world that you got married is to have the original certificate on hand. But if your sole purpose is to create a fakeidentity, filing the paperwork in a records hall that no one would ever think to check…”

“Unless two geniuses were ripping apart your life,” Fox mused.

“Exactly.”

“How does this help us find Marylin?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient.

“This identity, P. Truitt. Obviously, it’s not the only one out there. But this one”—he pointed at a document on his screen—“has only ever been used once. It’s on the rental document for a house on the south side of Chicago.”

“How sure are you about all this?” I queried, not sure whether to let myself hope.

“One hundred percent. We saw a man talking to Portia outside her apartment building one day, but we didn’t think much about him since we were so intent on following her. I pulled up the feed from the nearest traffic cameras by the house and ran a search for vehicles that matched any others in all the other footage I’d compiled. I got a hit last night.”

He clicked a few keys, and a grid of photos appeared. It was six across and six down, every single one showing the same license plate.

“Apartment building,” Deviant said as he pointed at the first picture. “House. Apartment building. The high-rise where Portia works. The house. The apartment building. The house. The high-rise. I’m telling you, that’s where they’re keeping Marylin.”

“Be ready to ride in an hour,” Fox grunted, stomping around his desk and picking up his phone.

“Wait,” Deviant said, holding up his hand. “That’s not all.”

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