If my muscles were tight and tense before Skye’s discovery of the camera, that’s nothing compared to how taut they are now. I jump off the bed, fully naked, fists bunched with anger.

“Who, the fuck, did this?”

I growl, grab a stool – whose intended purpose I can’t fathom – and throw it in the general direction of the offending air conditioning vent. The stool topples over, and I bound toward it, muscles filled with an energy created from pure rage.

Behind me, I hear the sheets rustle as Skye dives to cover herself up.

“What’s happening? Harlan?” Skye asks. “Who…?”

Her voice is quiet … broken, even. That sound hurts me more than I can possibly describe. Just a moment ago, Skye finally became the woman she has always projected she could be. I felt her change … felt her grow in confidence.

Now there’s this.

I swear, the second I find the person who has threatened my gorgeous girl, I’m going to end him.

I put the stool back upright.

“I don’t know, Skye,” I mutter darkly as I climb onto it and hoist myself up to the height of the grate covering the vent. “But I promise you, the second I find out who’s responsible for this, I’ll find them and end this. There’s no way these photos are getting out. Don’t you worry about that happening.”

“How can I not?” Skye says, her voice brave, yet nevertheless plaintive with worry. “It’s not my embarrassment I’m worried about, Harlan. I’m a big girl. It won’t be easy, but I can handle it. It’s what happens if they get out … in public.”

I grip the grate, and test its thin metal bars. Satisfied, I apply my full weight, and tear the flimsy construction fully off the wall.

I reach inside, anger still smoldering like a burning wildfire, threatening to break out into flames at any moment. I grab the camera and pull.

“Did you hear me, Harlan?” Skye asks.

“Yes,” I growl. “I heard you.”

I hop off the stool, holding the spy camera in my hand. It’s a miracle Skye was able to pick the tiny black device out from its hiding place – there’s no way I would have seen it. It’s attached to a black wire and – my heart sinks – a transceiver. The photos are long gone.

“Shit.”

“Shit?” Skye repeats. “What do you mean, shit? That doesn’t sound good…”

“It’s not,” I mutter, tearing the wire and the camera apart. A shard of plastic flies off in my hands, and I toss the broken device onto the floor. I stare at it. Now in pieces, it’s hard to believe that such a tiny thing can hold so much power, the power to change both of our lives forever.

But it does.

I know from experience that there’s no use digging into where the device came from. It’s high-tech, sure, but it’s military-grade. There’s no way I’ll find something as useful as a serial number to trace who sold it, let alone be able to track down the transceiver signal.

No, whoever took these photos will be miles away by now. They probably stomped the gas the second Skye and I came together.

“You know what this means, right?” Skye says. “The second someone uploads those photos onto the Internet, my career’s over. If the Board finds out I slept with the patient…” She squeezes her eyes shut, grimacing in pain.

“How could I have been so stupid?” she moans.

I clench my fists, and stare at Skye’s pain with impotent rage. I know exactly how she’s feeling. If those photos get out, I’ll be a laughingstock on Wall Street. More importantly – my stomach does a backflip – Child Protective Services probably won’t look too kindly on it, either.

I grind my teeth together. For once in my life, I have no idea how to fix this. I haven’t got an enemy to fight, no demon to slay, no battle to win.

Unless…

“Wait here,” I growl.

I storm out of the bedroom door, still stark naked. Skye cries out in dismay behind me. I don’t catch her exact words, but I’m sure she saying some variation on – where the hell are you going?

I pass by another five identical bedroom doors. The soundproofing is perfect, but I imagine every single one is occupied. God only knows what kind of sordid deeds are happening in this place tonight.

Fuck, I curse, silently. You should have known that this was too high of a risk. Yet you did it anyway. You couldn’t resist following your cock like a horny teenage boy.

I head straight for the auction room, not bothering to hide my nakedness. If my gut is right – and that’s all it is, a hunch – then the perpetrator is hiding in plain sight.

I storm through the door. It clatters violently against the wall behind me. Two sets of eyes turn to face me – the masked auctioneer, his face no longer hidden, and his assistant.

“What–”

“You know exactly what,” I yell, striding towards him. I grab him by the collar and lift him a couple of inches off the ground. “Tell me what you’re planning on doing with those photos. You’ve got exactly three seconds before I –”

“What photos?” The auctioneer chokes out, struggling for breath as I squeeze his collar tight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

His protest dies in a squeal. I stare at his face, blood pounding in my ears, lungs heaving. I’m spoiling for a fight. I want to release the demon that has been locked inside me for so long – the violent monster trained by the US government to deal death to any enemy standing in my way.

But I can’t.

Because the man I’m threatening to within an inch of pissing his pants is, unfortunately for me, completely innocent. I can tell by his face. He truly has no idea what I’m talking about.

So who the hell is responsible?

“Then,” I mutter, straining to regain control over my breathing. “You’d better come with me. I’ve got something I need you to see…”