Nick sat at the table, eying the screen on the wall with the other Saints. With Bayley taking a rare morning off from the shop to get some writing completed before the rescheduled critique group that night, all the Saints were at the table.

“What I’ve worked on,” Charlie said, “was digging into Gavrill Volkov’s businesses that might be in this area. I’m basing this on Bayley’s identification of Johan, who was last working for Garvrill’s organization in Norfolk.”

“What have you got?” Jack asked.

Nick leaned forward, his body tense as he awaited Charlie’s results, having witnessed her ability to follow a money trail way beyond what he had witnessed in the FBI.

“Back when we, especially Bart, were investigating Ivan Krustas’ family in Norfolk, we came across his cousin, Sergio—a particularly nasty individual who has no moral compass at all.”

Bart snorted at the description, remembering his dealings with the black-hearted mobster when he interviewed him in prison.

“And, Bart has also interviewed Gavrill Volkov, another nasty leader of the Russian mafia, who seems to be of like character to Sergio. Because these two leaders have no compunction dealing in human lives, I’ve been digging into their finances to see if there are any ties to this area.”

“Gavrill’s managed to make inroads with some of the docks and Sergio, while still in prison, manages to lead his own family business. Together, they’ve been suspected of not only smuggling girls in their cargo ships to Russia, where they’ll be sexual slaves, but also having them serve the ships and docks on the way there.”

“Why the fuck haven’t they been stopped?” Bart growled.

Nick heaved a sigh and replied, “The FBI, police, Coast Guard, Homeland Security…hell, even the CIA all try to take these guys down, but they’ve got a long reach. They manage to launder their resources so many times before ending up in off-shore accounts, it’s almost impossible to trace. There is also the loyalty issue. No one comes clean. And I mean no one. If a member of the Russian mafia is caught, they keep quiet or they know their life will end and it won’t be pleasant.” Sighing again, he said, “I never worked in that district but I knew it was a helluva place to try to investigate.” Turning back to Charlie, he asked, “So, have you been able to get us closer?”

Grinning, Charlie said, “I have been able to follow the money trail slightly. Gavrill owns a couple of hotels in the Virginia Beach area, all legit on the surface, but it seems he has a small monetary interest in a hotel closer to us. Again, appears legit, but I don’t trust anything that even hints at him having his name attached to at all.”

She projected a hotel on the screen. “This is the Belvue in Richland. As you can see, it looks nice…expensive. In fact, there are senators and congressmen who frequent it. Even the governor has hosted a ball here. Everything appears legal and proper.”

“I used to work undercover in Richland and know the area. This hotel is in a ritzy block and I’ve never heard of a problem there. So, what’s the catch?” Cam asked.

“It’s owned by a company with the money coming from the Cayman Islands, so that is suspicious. But it’s run by a Gruzinsky family. Milos Gruzinsky and his oldest son, Grigory. None of them caught my eye until I ran across an article about the opening of the hotel about ten years ago. Milos Gruzinsky was pictured with his wife, Chessa. And her maiden name was included. Chessa Volkov Gruzinsky. In doing some checking, I discovered Chessa is a cousin of Gavrill.”

“Hot damn,” Jude exclaimed. “So, we’ve got a connection.”

“Yes, but without any proof of anything else, it’s not illegal to be a cousin of a crook,” Nick replied. “Otherwise, we’d have an easy time arresting suspects.”

“So, what about the hotel makes you suspicious?” Chad asked. “Other than just the familial connection.”

Charlie sighed. “Sorry, guys, that’s all I’ve got right now. But, I’m still working on following the money.”

Luke jumped in, “I’ve been working on the social media aspect. We know Amy Willis had been posting about going out with friends to Neon before actually going. When I checked her Facebook account, emails, and phone texts, I didn’t find anything specific, and I’m just checking out her dating site profile.”

“How the hell did I not find this?” Nick growled, his mouth twisted in anger. Looking at Jack, he shook his head. “I know, I know…that’s why you get results. You’ve got the equipment and the manpower.” Rubbing his brow, he added, “I had to take days away from this to check on my uncle and thought the case was still being worked the way it should have been. It was only when I got back that I realized it had stalled.”

Jack leaned forward, his forearms on the table, and pierced Nick with his glaze. “I get that…I know it sucks. But you gotta put that out of your mind and focus on what we can find out now.”

Nodding, Nick sucked in a deep breath, clearing his mind. “Got it,” he acknowledged. Turning back to Luke and Charlie, he asked, “What else have we got?”

Luke continued, “Right now, we’ve got nothing to tie any of the Russian mafia or their families to Amy Willis or any of the missing girls. All we’ve got is conjecture and possibilities. I’m working on getting visuals of the hotel, their security, and blueprints. It’ll take a bit, but this is our number one priority.”

“I need a better way to murder someone.”

“Yes, but is there a way to do it so that the police can’t catch you?”

Bayley pondered the question before answering, “ ‘Every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend.’ ” She looked up at her group before laughing as she added, “Yes, dear old Agatha!”

“So, I should make the murderer the victim’s friend?” Bruce asked. “But that still doesn’t give me a good way to do it.”

Agnes looked askance at the people sitting around the table, their laptops open in front of them, all discussing murder. Bayley observed the newcomer’s surprise and said, “Don’t worry, Agnes—you’ll get used to us.”

“I suppose it’s because I’m not writing a mystery,” she replied.

Sitting down next to the dark-haired beauty, Bayley said, “I write romantic suspense, which isn’t pure mystery, but I love to have a good murder or kidnapping to cause the tension for the hero and heroine.”

“Well, I’m not writing romance, either,” Agnes confessed. “I suppose I don’t really know what genre I’m writing in.”

“Would you like me to read over your story to see where you are?” Bayley asked.

Before Agnes could answer, Bruce jumped in. “Oh, she won’t let you see it. I’ve been asking her to let me read what she’s written, but she won’t.”

“It’s my first work,” Agnes protested. “I’m not ready.”

“That’s fine,” Bayley said, jumping to her defense, making a face at Bruce. Turning her gaze to Sally, she added, “You and Bruce need to put your heads together to come up with the perfect murder.”

The group soon settled into their writing and the next two hours passed quickly. A knock on the front door startled Bayley, but her surprise morphed into a huge smile as she saw Nick in the doorway. “Okay, guys, it’s time to pack it in.”

As the others gathered their laptops and books, Bayley unlocked the shop’s door and greeted Nick enthusiastically. Becoming more accustomed to public displays of affection, he returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm.

As the writers filed out the door with goodbyes ringing in the air, he noted a few new faces in Bayley’s group. Several stared at him unabashedly, but a few kept their faces turned away. Bayley locked the door after they left before turning back to Nick.

“You got new people?”

“Yeah. I think since Bruce works at the college, a few students have heard about us. I want to make sure we don’t grow too large, but having about ten people is really nice.” Squinting her eyes in thought, she commented, “But you always ask questions with purposeful intent, so why are you asking?”

Laughing, Nick repeated, “Purposeful intent?” Watching as she walked over to the counter to grab her purse and laptop case, he admitted, “I guess that’s the investigator in me.”

As they stepped through the door and Bayley locked it again, she pressed, “So…why’d you ask?”

“I just noticed that a couple of them seem to be avoiding looking at me.”

“Oh, and the handsome agent is so used to women looking at him that he wonders when it doesn’t happen?” she laughed, pretending to pout.

Slapping her ass playfully as she hopped up into his vehicle, he said, “No, missy. But I just always get suspicious when someone doesn’t look me in the eye.”

As he climbed into the driver’s seat, she looked over at him with a grin on her face. “Well, I happen to love looking into your eyes. In fact, I think I noticed your eyes right away.” Tapping her chin with her forefinger, she shook her head. “No that’s not right...it was too dark. I first noticed your profile. You’ve got such a classic profile…kind of like Al Pacino in the Godfather movies—”

“What is it with you and the Godfather movies?”

Shrugging, Bayley’s forehead wrinkled as she thought. “I don’t know. I’ve watched them a million-jillion times, so I guess I’ve got them imprinted on my brain. Such a brilliant portrayal of gangsters.”

“And your Agatha Christie?”

“Oh yes! I’ve watched all her mysteries too. But you know the difference? I prefer reading her books and confess that the Miss Marples in my mind don’t look like the ones in the movies. But with the Godfather, when I read that book, Al Pacino is in my mind.”

Pulling out onto the street, Nick shook his head in wonderment of the way Bayley’s conversations managed to move all over the place.

Stepping from the corner, Agnes pulled her phone out of her pocket, sending a quick text.

Chessa walked out of the basement room with the doctor, locking the door securely before lowering her mask and turning to him. “How soon?”

“It shouldn’t be long now.”

“We are losing money every hour, you know. My husband leaves the girls’ care to me and I’m failing the family at the moment.”

The grey-haired doctor patted her shoulder. “We cannot rush these things, Mrs. Gruzinsky. If these girls pass on illness to your customers, especially the ones that pay well for the privilege, your business won’t be worth anything.”

She pinched her lips together in frustration, glancing over her shoulder as Agnes walked down the hall toward them.

“News?” Agnes asked.

“The same,” her mother bit out. “Dr. Kovenov says they need a few more days.”

“And the upstairs girls?”

“He just checked them and says the same thing. Whatever virus they have, it takes days to work through their system. Your father will not be pleased.”

Shrugging, Agnes said, “It’s only a few more days. Then we can ship the upstairs girls to your cousin and these girls can move into their place. You will see, Mama…it will be all right.”

With narrow eyes, Chessa glared at both her daughter and the doctor. “Bah! Tell that to your father and Grigory when they look at the books and see how much money we are losing. And my cousin gets impatient with waiting. The ship cannot be held in port indefinitely.” Stomping down the hall, she left the two in her wake.

“Your mother has little patience when things do not go her way,” Dr. Kovenov said, his voice weary.

Agnes watched her mother as she moved through the door leading to the back stairs of the hotel. “New ways are coming, my good Doctor. And with it, a new way of doing things.” With an enigmatic smile, she slipped her arm through his as they followed Chessa.

Several minutes later, Agnes stood outside the closed door of her father’s office, recognizing the raised voices from inside. Hearing a noise behind her, she watched as Lazlo moved to her side.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“The girls are still sick. Mama was checking with the doctor and he says another few days before they can be shipped or put back to work.”

With anger in his eyes, he opened the door, walking inside. Milos glowered as his youngest children came into the room. “What is this? A family meeting that I did not call?”

Agnes, keeping quiet, stood near the wall, her eyes cast down. Lazlo, unheeding of his father’s ire, said, “I hear the girls are ill. Who cares if they are sick? They can lay on their backs, can’t they? Who gives a fuck if they don’t feel well?”

Chessa opened her mouth, but Milos’ hand in the air silenced her. Standing, he placed his fists on the desk, his voice low and dangerous. “Have I raised an idiot?”

Lazlo flinched, but his father continued, “We do not run a whore house, you fool. We provide our clientele with what they want. They want a virgin, we give them that. They want a child, we give them that too. What we do not do, is give them an illness! You are a fool!”

Grigory, silent as usual, spoke, “We need to get them well as soon as possible, Papa, before news gets out about them being ill. We’re losing money each day and Gavrill is growing impatient.”

Whirling around, Milos growled, “You think you are telling me something I do not know? Are both of my sons idiots? And just how do you expect us to do that?”

The room was silent for a moment, before Agnes lifted her gaze to her family. “We could get rid of these girls and then we will be ready for a new crop.”

No one spoke…the silence deafening. Agnes wiped her sweating palms on her skirt as she waited for their reaction. Lazlo scoffed but, like Grigory, did not speak, looking to Milos instead. Chessa stared at her daughter as though seeing her for the first time. Finally, Milos’ lips curved into a slow smile.

“Ah, so the one with the solution is my daughter. Perhaps I have underestimated you.” He stared at her speculatively. “And just how do you propose this happens? Twelve women in all. Twelve bodies?”

Swallowing deeply, Agnes replied, “I’m sure Dr. Kovenov would be able to inject something…uh…effective. No mess, no problems. Once…dead, we could load them at night using the laundry trucks and get them to Gavrill. He’d have ways to dispose of them with one of his tankers in the middle of the ocean.”

Once more, the silence in the room snaked across the occupants. Milos walked around his desk, stopping in front of Agnes. She stood her ground as he lifted his hand, his knuckles caressing her cheek. “My little one, you might have just solved our problems.”

Lifting her eyes to him, she smiled. “Would you allow me to take charge? Prove to you that I can be part of what needs to happen with this family?”

Grinning a white-toothed smile, he nodded. “Yes, but you will work with Lazlo.”

Emboldened, she added, “But he needs to focus on replacing the sick girls. Twelve girls are a lot to replace.”

Nodding, Milos agreed. Turning to the others, he said, “We have work to do. I suggest we all get busy.”

Letting out a breath she had not realized she had been holding, she turned and walked out of the room, feeling change in the air. Her brothers thought they had the family business locked up when her father died. Grinning, she knew they had met their match.