Page 13 of Judgment Day

I turned around at the exact moment Winston flew up from his chair, then banged his fist against the tabletop. “Are we really going to sit here and let him talk to us like we’re children?” He spun around with his arms spread wide as he addressed the room, as if saying,come on. “Are you just going to hand him your balls without a fight?”

The room went quiet. The air stilled. All eyes were on Winston as he threw his tantrum—some in disbelief, some amused, some flashing from him to me as they waited for my response.

My plan was to have him committed, either to prison or a mental facility. I needed him confined and alone. I wanted him to suffer the things my nightmares were made of. I wanted him to live inmyhell for a little while before I sent him to his own. I could almost hear the whispers.The king lost his mind after losing his only son.

I walked over and clapped a hand on his shoulder as I leaned in close. Then I smiled. “Come on, Winston. You’re making this entirely too easy.”

EIGHT

Chandler Carmichael’sname was infamous in the gambling circles from Las Vegas to Monte Carlo and London. He’d made powerful connections with the Bratva, the Mafia, and private military forces like Blackwater. Making important people a lot of money was a guaranteed ticket to the top. Having them owe you a lot of money was a brilliant way to stay there. He used those connections to get into weapon trading. That was how he pulled off my favor. That was why he was an important player in the Brotherhood.

He also owned one of his country’s most exclusive gentleman’s clubs. People traveled from Brazil to New York to sit at one of his tables, they talked about Stiletto at dinner parties in Dubai. His dancers were exquisite, and only the select few were allowed entrance. This was where he chose to meet me tonight. Not his loft. Not the quiet corner of a secluded restaurant. Here. At a strip club.

I’d never been to a place like this. Not that we didn’t have them. I simply never had the urge to go.

Several small bars were scattered around the room, each with a shiny, silver pole in the center. The overhead lights bled from red to purple across the white marble bar tops. Deep bass with a sensual rhythm vibrated through the sound system. VIP booths were lined up in a row along the back wall, each closed off with red velvet curtains for privacy.

Chandler met me at the door, then lead me to one of those booths. He pulled back the curtain, revealing a round table with a half-circle leather seat surrounding it. A dancer wrapped her long legs around the pole in the middle of the table and started to spin. Every inch of her skin was exposed except for a tiny triangle of fabric covering her pussy. Her dark brown hair hung low, brushing the tabletop as she bent over backwards. Seated in the center of the leather bench was Leo.

I arched a brow at the girl curling around the pole. “So, this is what you call entertainment?”

Leo Costello, Chandler’s right-hand-man and computer genius, reached to his lap, lifting a head of blonde hair. He grinned. “Nah.Thisis what I call entertainment.” He lowered her head back down, then splayed his arm across the back of the booth.

“Ignore him,” Chandler said as he slid into the booth on one side of Leo. “I do.”

That would be easy if he wasn’t the guy I came to see.

I took the other side of the bench.

Leo grabbed a beer bottle from the table and took a long pull. “So, the mighty Grey Van Doren needsme.” He set the bottle down and licked his lips. “Let me guess; you heard the rumors.” He smirked, then winked. “Spoiler alert: they’re true.”

Chandler groaned. “Jesus Christ. Can you pretend to be normal for once? He needs your help, not your dick.”

Leo shrugged. “His loss.”

Where in the fuck did Chandler find this guy? And how did his brain ever work when all his blood seemed to go straight to his dick?

The music thumped. I kept my eyes on the girl in the middle of the table, letting my silence create distance between my thoughts and her ears. “Maybe now isn’t a good time.”

“You can speak freely,” Chandler said as he leaned back in the booth. “They’re all fully vetted and know how to keep their mouths shut.”

He may have been right, but I still kept my comments vague.

I dragged my gaze to Leo. “There’s a second house. We need to find it.”

His hand snapped to his lap. “Easy, Rapunzel. Teeth are only fun when you do it right.” He did something with her face I couldn’t see. “There you go. Fuck yeah.” Then he tipped his head back and let out a groan.

I cleared my throat. “There’s also a third person involved. We need to find out who.”

Leo lowered his head to look at me. “You think it’s that prince’s dad? The Norway guy?”

The prince who almost raped Anniston. The prince involved in making sadistic sex tapes and broadcasting them online. The prince Chandler killed, then Liam turned into a pile of ash when he burned down the cottage. Yeah, I could see his father being involved.

“Maybe. But we need to know for sure. There was a white van at the airport. I need the security footage so I can get the logo.”

“Done,” Leo said.

The girl raised her head.

---