Page 2 of Justice for Francesca

He thought about it for a moment. “Say nothing just yet. We don’t open again until Thursday. Let’s see what happens today, then we’ll worry about next week. We’ll deal with the private party on Wednesday first, then worry about what we tell the general membership.”

Once again, the bar manager's voice sounded like he was going to be physically ill. “Tripoli, I swear to God. I checked every room last night. I checked every exit. We were clear and locked tight. I don’t know if I could have done something different, but she wasn’t there when I went through the club.”

“Michael, listen to me. You’re not responsible for the actions of someone else.” A sudden pothole in the road of his brain caused Tripoli to pause. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta ask. It wasn’t you, was it? Because I’d rather know and be able to help you somehow. I can get you a good attorney?—”

“No! I promise I didn’t do this. I understand why you’re asking, though, and I’m not offended. Police are going to ask the same thing eventually.” Michael sighed. “Fuck! This is going to get messy. I need to think.” The last comment was mumbled under his breath. “You gave me a chance when not a lot of others would. I would never disrespect that, and now I feel like?—”

“Michael! We’ve discussed your family several times over the last two years. You’ve got nothing to apologize for, ever. You answer only for yourself. Remember that,” Tripoli reminded him. He glanced at the clock. “All right. I’ll be with you as soonas possible. I have no idea when the next flight out will be. May have to call in a favor.”

“We’ll hold down the fort, Trip.” Michael cleared his throat. “As soon as I hang up, I’ll call Triumph and proceed as planned. When I get to the office, I’ll pull up the roster from last night as well as the guest list. The more I can have ready for the cops, the faster they’ll have what they need, and the faster this gets resolved.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

The bang of a flash grenade went off to his left. Blinding light, his arm raised to protect his eyes. His eardrums popped hard. He fell to the ground, covering his head when he hit the jungle floor. There was muffled yelling, gunfire, then screaming. He tried to rise, but everything was spinning. Looking up through the smoke, he searched for his team. Chaos. Mayhem. Oz. Tiguan. Honcho. Keys. He crawled and crawled, looking for them, calling out, but everything was hazy and muffled, like being underwater.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Tripoli lifted his head and found himself back in his darkened apartment. He allowed himself another minute, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands dangling between his knees. With a physical shake, he stood naked, crossed to the window, and opened the blackout curtains. His arms at full extension in the window frame, he gazed out at the city he had called home for the last three years. Below him, Los Angeles was barely waking up. The smoggy haze filtered the sunrise over the city.

Tripoli sighed and returned to his phone. Standing there wishing for things to be different wasn’t going to make it so, and that wasn’t really his style anyway. Shit goes wrong. Don’t bitch about it. Don’t make excuses. Don’t assign blame. Doesn’t matter who is responsible; just fix it. His brain was already listing, sorting, and organizing what he needed to do.

First things first. He needed to get to San Antonio promptly. A quick search of the airlines showed the first available flight out of LAX to San Antonio was at three in the afternoon. He needed to get out sooner. His thoughts flew to Lobo. Lobo’s boss had a jet. Maybe he could buy a ride and possibly even some help from Lobo’s team.

His fingers flew to his contacts. On the second ring, a deep voice answered. “Problem?”

“Lobo. Sorry. I know it’s early, especially with you being at the club last night, but I have a situation. I’m wondering if you can do me a huge favor. I can pay for it.”

“I haven’t even been to bed yet. No worries.” There was a soft murmur in the background. Lobo must have covered the speaker on the phone, but Tripoli still heard a soft, “Go back to sleep, princess.” Lobo’s voice returned to normal volume. “What do you need?”

“I need to get to Elysium. The first commercial flight isn’t until three p.m., and my employees found a body at the club. I need?—”

“How soon can you leave?”

“Thirty minutes. I need to get to my staff as fast as possible, especially since Tilly found the body.”

“Jesus, that poor kid. What else can go wrong for her?”

“That’s what I said,” Tripoli agreed. “Just tell me what I owe you, and I’ll transfer it immediately.”

“We’ll worry about that another time. I’ll be in touch.” Lobo clicked off the line.

As soon as the line cleared, Tripoli went to his contacts and made another call.

The phone was just about to be transferred to voicemail when a voice, raspy with sleep, picked up. “Yeah?”

“Hey, Cosmos. I’m sorry to bother you so early, but… we’ve got a situation at Elysium.”

“What’s going on?”

“Michael just called. They found a body in the club.”

“They found a what?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck,” Cosmos muttered.

“I need you to get to San Antonio yesterday. I’m on my way there myself.”

Two hours later,Tripoli was boarding a corporate jet along with Lobo, or TB as his co-workers called him, and a co-worker named Steel. The two men worked for Tribe Corporation, and they were going to hang out for a day or two to see if he needed their help. If not, they would head back. Tripoli didn’t know exactly what Tribe did. They went by nicknames, they lived in the building they worked in, and they didn’t advertise their services. All of that told him he probably didn’t want to know what they did. One thing he did know was that they exposed the sex trafficking ring that had abducted Tilly, which meant they were the reason Tilly and the other women were free.

A significant pain to the back of his head. Cold asphalt beneath his cheek. The blurry vision of a black high-heeled shoe on its side in the light from an open car door.

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