Page 9 of Justice for Francesca

Francesca spoke up. “Tilly was the fifth woman taken at The Library.” She turned to Tripoli. “I didn’t realize she was here in San Antonio.”

“Lobo. Sorry to interrupt, but Fleur was just telling me that Tilly is missing. She thought Tilly was heading over to their table after talking to you, but she never arrived. Did she mention going anywhere when she left you at the bar?”

With a frown, Lobo looked to Fleur. “I definitely sent her back to your table. I saw her get bumped into by someone in the crowd, and he was helping her regain her footing when the crowd poured in from the dance floor. Are you sure she’s not at the bar?”

Fleur answered him. “No, Master Lobo. I looked. She doesn’t seem to be anywhere.”

“Is Cosmos here tonight? They’re on contract for another month yet. Maybe they’re in a scene upstairs?”

“No, Sir. Cosmos is in London until next week on business.”

“Where else did you look?”

“I went to the Dungeon, but she wasn’t there. I checked the locker room, and her locker was locked, all of her things in it. I know her combination and checked it.”

Tripoli returned from the remembered conversation. “Yes. She had an especially difficult time recovering from her abduction. Her parents love her and want only the best, but as you can imagine, she sees villains around every corner now. She feels safe with me and my guys, so when I decided to open a club here in San Antonio, I offered her a chance to start over, as it were. She helps with a variety of tasks and was gifted with a five percent interest.”

“My bar manager is Michael Murphy. He started as a barback under the previous management at The Library and worked his way up the ladder. I made him the bar manager here when we opened Elysium. He has a three percent stake in the club, gifted to him with his promotion to bar manager.”

Livingston turned his attention back to Tripoli. “And you?”

“Everyone calls me Tripoli. My legal name is Ethan Evans, and I am the majority holder with twenty-five percent of the club. When I graduated high school, I joined the Navy, became a medic, and shipped out on numerous deployments from 2004 through 2020 when I retired.”

“What division?”

Tripoli sat quietly for a moment, leveling his gaze at Livingston. “I’m afraid that’s classified, and youwillneed a warrant for that.”

Livingston looked at his partner, who responded to the unasked question, “That means he was with the Raiders. Basically, Spec Ops for the Marines.”

“How old are you?” Livingston asked incredulously.

“Forty-four at the end of the year.”

Livingston snorted derisively. “You don’t even look close to your forties.”

Tripoli shrugged nonchalantly. “Good genes.”

Livingston looked for confirmation at Francesca, who read out of her notepad, “Ethan Ezekiel Evans, born December thirty-first, 1980. MBA earned in 2016. Discharged from the Navy in 2020.”

“Damn. I have to say I’m impressed.”

“I did my college courses one at a time online while in the service, so it took longer than normal. Currently, I have five clubs in the United States, which I own with Cosmos, Triumph, and the staff. In February, we open a sixth property in London. All cater to particular clientele’s tastes that can’t be met easily. We’re not your typical nightclub.”

“I gathered that by the trapeze,” Livingston commented.

Tripoli laughed out loud. “Ever been to a circus, Special Agent Livingston? Just add a top-shelf bar, a dance floor, mix that with a hint of the erotic—suggestive to some nudity—and adult humor, but no live sex.”

“But that’s not true of all your locations.”

“No,” Tripoli agreed. “I own three clubs that fall under the BDSM genre. The Library in Los Angeles, the Regency Era-themed club in London that opens in February, and The Lucky Rabbit just outside of Chicago, which caters to the cosplayniche within the kink community. I own a second club in Los Angeles called Identity, a traditional LGBTQ+ club—not a sex club—with a private membership. You don’t need to be part of that community to belong, but it’s what we designed it for. A safe space. And now there’s Elysium, a semi-private club here in San Antonio, where we took a chance on something a little playful and avant-garde. And before you ask, all of the clubs have different percentages for their individual ownership. The only constant is that Cosmos, Triumph, and I are the majority owners of all six.”

“That’s only five locations,” Francesca pointed out.

Tripoli smiled at her. “Clever girl. I tried.” He crossed his legs and brushed imaginary lint off of his dress pants. “The sixth location is in New Orleans, and it’s probably less accepted than the kink clubs. It’s called Fantasy.”

Livingston once more turned to Francesca.

How would she explain this one? “A… themed hotel.”

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