Tate hung up the phone just as she walked into Lancy’s bar. Valeria was off that night, and Dalton and Lizzy were pouring beers behind the old wooden bar to the left. The rest of the bar Lizzy’s father had started was filled with a couple pool tables in the back and some small tables with wood chairs up front. It wasn’t fancy, but then again the people who drank at Lancy’s weren’t the fancy type. They were military men and women from the surrounding Quantico Military Base. They were FBI, DEA, and even foreign soldiers and government agents who were training on the grounds.

Tate scanned the crowd for her brother, Tucker. He was sitting at a table with a bunch of his colleagues from the FBI crime lab. From the hard set of their faces, they had had a tough day as well.

“What’s up, dude?”

Tate turned a managed a soft smile for Alex Santos. At twenty-two, he was the youngest person on their team. They were certainly an odd mix of people. Lizzy owned the bar and had hired Alex as a busboy. Dalton and Valeria were part-time bartenders. Tate’s excuse to come to the bar was to see her brother. Sometimes it really was, and other times it was to talk about their mission in the clean room Alex had set up in the storage closet.

“Hi, Alex. Have you enjoyed the past couple of days off?”

Alex’s eyebrows shot up into his shaggy hair. “Days off? Dude, some shit’s about to go down. I’m just trying to figure out what it is.”

Tate looked at the young kid and felt like rolling her eyes. She didn’t know if she should take him seriously or not. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s quiet. It’s never good when it’s quiet. I mean, the dark boards that we hackers hang out in have been jumpy. No one wants to say anything all of a sudden. I think there’s someone in there who shouldn’t be.”

“A hacker hacked the hackers?” Tate asked, shaking her head. Going off a quiet illegal hacker message board on the dark net didn’t seem to be a reliable source.

“Exactly,” Alex drew out, wide-eyed.

“Well, keep us updated.” Tate patted Alex on the shoulder and headed for the bar. Buzz and Snip, the two old former military barbers sat in their usual places, plotting to hogtie Alex and shave his mop of a head. Tate smiled at them as she took a seat by herself and let her thoughts turn back to Joel. What would drive a man to do that?

“Hey, Tate. How are things in DC?” Lizzy asked from across the bar.

“Quiet. How are things here?” Tate asked.

“Same ol’, same ol’. You want your regular?” Lizzy asked as Tucker caught sight of his sister and made his way to the bar.

“Yes, please. Large and strong.”

“You know,” Alex said with a wink as he wiped down the bar, “the type of drink a lady likes is the type of man she’s looking for.”

“Sound advice,” Tate chuckled. “Guess we know you’re not in the running then.”

Alex pretended to be wounded as he moved along to a young FBI agent from the academy. Tucker took the seat next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze before getting Dalton’s attention and tapping his empty beer mug.

“Long day?” Tate asked, worried. Her brother looked upset as Dalton refilled his beer.

“A friend of mine died,” Tucker said, running a hand over his short hair in frustration.

“I’m so sorry. What happened?” Tate asked as she took her younger brother’s hand in hers.

“Car accident. The thing is, I even called him when he was late for work and didn’t think about it again until the sheriff stopped by the lab so one of us could make identification. He crashed on Route 619 close to Independence Hill.”

Tate paused as Lizzy set down a gigantic margarita on the rocks. Lizzy looked between the two of them with concern. “Is everything okay, Tucker?”

Tucker nodded and then gave a weak smile to Dalton, who handed him his beer. “I was just telling Tate that a friend and colleague of mine, Caleb Brown, died in a car accident two nights ago. I had to identify his body today.”

Tate sat quietly while Lizzy and Dalton offered their condolences. “Wait, two nights ago?”

“Yeah.”

Tate shook her head slowly. No, it couldn’t be . . . “My friend died two nights ago. A journalist by the name of Joel Davidson.”

Lizzy and Dalton showed no outward signs of recognition, but she knew they were thinking the same thing she was.

“What a horrible coincidence,” Lizzy muttered as she looked at Tate. They were learning quickly that nothing was ever a coincidence.

“Did your friend Caleb know this reporter friend of Tate’s?” Dalton asked casually.

Tucker shrugged as he took a deep drink of his beer. “I don’t think so. Although Caleb was quite the conspiracy theorist.”

“Really? What was his theory?” Tate asked, trying to hide the interest from her voice.

“Some things have been disappearing from the lab. I think they’re in the warehouse and were just misfiled, but Caleb was sure they were stolen,” Tucker told them before going back to his beer.

Tate tried to laugh it off. “Who would want blood and hair samples? Gross.”

Tucker shook his head and then leaned forward and dropped his voice. “It was biometric samples proving the rebel leader killed with Phylicia Claymore had set off a chemical bomb in that small village six months ago. It’s proof of mass genocide. And,” he said, dropping his voice even lower, “a diffused chemical weapon.”

Tate’s eyes shot to Lizzy’s. Concern was clearly written there. “Well, if it was diffused, it couldn’t hurt anyone, right?” Tate asked.

Tucker shook his head. “It could become active with the right part in under a minute. Caleb thought someone stole it, but a cart of things that were supposed to go in storage was near the cart the bomb and lab samples were on. The warehouse cart was left behind and this cart was taken by accident. Simple mistake. It’s just somewhere in the warehouse. People are looking for them now.”

“Probably. That place is huge if I remember correctly,” Lizzy smiled as she poured a round of beers. “Here, for your table. It’s on me.”

“Go ahead,” Tate told her brother. “I want to tell Lizzy about this man I think is perfect for her.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Tucker asked.

“Not at all. Go be with your friends.”

“Thanks, Sis.” Tucker gave her a quick peck on the cheek before grasping the beer mugs and heading to his table.

“No way they’re connected, right?” Tate whispered to Lizzy and Dalton the second her brother was out of earshot.

“Alex, take over for a sec,” Lizzy called out.

Without saying a word, Lizzy, Dalton, and Tate headed for the clean room. They pushed through the hanging 1970s beaded door, which was really a jammer for listening devices, and headed into the storage closet filled with beer, liquor, cleaning supplies, and countless hidden devices that made the room impenetrable.

“I wouldn’t think so, but stranger things have happened recently. If Caleb believed there was a cover-up at the FBI, he could have got Joel to write a story on it,” Lizzy said, thinking out loud.

Dalton shook his head. “But why would Joel kill his wife and then himself? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I agree,” Tate said, “but I think I’ll ask around at the funeral tomorrow just to be sure.”

“I can ask Alex to look into it at the same time,” Lizzy told her. “We’ll meet back here tomorrow night to discuss.”

Tate nodded and Lizzy watched her head out of the clean room. Lizzy closed her eyes and let out a breath as she leaned against the shelves. This was just one more thing to factor into the web she was filling in of Mollia Domini’s network of terror.

Lizzy opened her eyes and found Dalton studying her. They had had days together to explore who they were to each other. Lovers, yes. More than that, maybe. How much more? She didn’t know, and now she didn’t have time to find out.

“What are you thinking about?” Dalton asked as he came over to rub his hands down her arms.

“I’ve decided to do what Sebastian asked and question Trip Kameron.” Lizzy thought about her last meeting with billionaire Sebastian Abel. He had arrogantly kept her waiting. When he finally graced her with his presence, he demanded she either sleep with, spank, or drug Trip into giving information about one of the many women he was having an affair with, Vivian Geofferies. Why Vivian? Because Sebastian wanted to know about her husband, Rupert, who insisted on being called Bertie because it made him more relatable to the common man. Although the nickname was speculated that it was chosen because he wanted to be likened to the king of England who had made that nickname famous.

Bertie Geofferies was Sebastian’s main rival. He’s old British money, old British ways, and has a young American wife. Surprise, surprise, Vivian was screwing playboy Trip, who similarly was old money, old family, but he wasn’t seventy some years old like Bertie. In fact, Trip, or John Kameron III, was only in his thirties and quite handsome, which was why he was able to get gorgeous women like Vivian, heiress Blythe Stanworth, reality star Kerra Ruby, and news anchor Claudia Hughes into his bed.

“Corporate espionage seems kinda low, doesn’t it?” Dalton asked. It was clear from the set of his lips he was not happy with this decision. She couldn’t blame him. Trip was a womanizer who believed himself above the law because of his family name.

“I don’t care about whatever Bertie Geofferies is up to. That idiot Trip has some information on Mollia Domini somewhere in his drugged mind that I need to learn.”

“Or maybe he was really talking about BDSM, in which case . . .” Dalton’s hands tightened on her arms at the idea of Trip pushing Lizzy for sex before he yanked them away from her body. They were on uneven ground as they balanced their desire for each other with the knowledge they could be killed at any moment.

“I can handle myself,” Lizzy reminded him.

Dalton clenched his square jaw and then released it. “I don’t like the idea of another man touching you,” he finally admitted.

Lizzy smiled. “Don’t worry, he won’t lay a finger on me.”

It had taken two minutes on Brent Eller’s popular gossip site, TinselGossip.com, to find out that Trip was in the Hamptons at a party. The hostess, Blythe Stanworth, was of the old-money Stanworth family, whose mom and grandfather ran a media empire called Fourth Estate Media Trust, among a multitude of other investments. According to TinselGossip.com, Blythe was best friends with Kerra Ruby and was trying to break into acting. So far Mommy was buying her way into films produced by Stanworth Motion Pictures to horrendously bad reviews.

Sebastian Abel was happy to loan Lizzy one of his private planes for the night. Dalton hadn’t spoken to her except for briefly muttering for her to “be safe” as she left the bar at one in the morning with a bag of goodies slung over her shoulder.

That’s how she found herself dressed in a trench coat walking up to private security in front of a mansion in the Hamptons at three in the morning. The mountain of a man, who Lizzy was sure she could disarm in second, looked down his nose at her as she stopped in front of him.

“Sorry, this is a private party.” Lizzy wanted to shake her head. Why did celebrities or celebrity wannabes think the bigger the bodyguard, the better? They were slow to react and easy to outmaneuver.

“I know,” Lizzy smiled. “I’m a gift for Trip.” Lizzy opened the trench coat and the bodyguard smiled.

He lifted his phone to his ear and waited. “Tell Mr. Kameron he has a gift out front, and I need to know whether he wants it returned or not.”

Lizzy cocked her head and acted bored as she let her coat close. She waited with her heavy purse slung over her shoulder for some nameless guard inside to drag Trip out of whatever trouble he was involved in.

Finally the door opened and Trip Kameron stumbled out. His shirt was unbuttoned and his shorts were slung low over his hips so he could show off his impressive muscles. “I love gifts. What is it?” Trip called out as he swaggered closer.

“Me,” Lizzy purred as she opened her coat. “Courtesy of Mr. Abel.”

“Sebastian always has good taste,” Trip grinned as he took in the blood-red leather corset that made the top of her breasts swell over, and then his eyes traveled down to the tight black leather miniskirt and thigh-high spiked stiletto boots.

Lizzy leaned closer so her leather-encased breasts pushed against Trip’s bare chest and whispered, “Mr. Abel said you’ve been naughty and need to be spanked. Now you’re going to accept this gift and lead me to a private room.” Trip put his hand on her waist and Lizzy slapped it away as she clucked her tongue. “No touching without me telling you where and how to touch me. You’ll have to be punished for that.”

When Lizzy stepped back, the answer to her invitation into the party was clearly seen in Trip’s shorts. Too easy.

“Right this way,” Trip said as if he were an excited puppy about to pee on the floor. He was practically wiggling with excitement.

Lizzy shot a wink to the guard and followed Trip into a smaller pool house where he locked the door behind him. Small was an understatement. It was easily five thousand square feet. But compared to the mansion out front, it appeared small. The party outside the pool house was raging. People were swimming, dancing, drinking, and the drugs flowed freely. It was quieter inside the pool house. Apparently this was Trip’s “room” when he stayed with Blythe.

“Will Blythe be joining us?” Lizzy asked as she followed Trip upstairs and into the master bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Maybe later,” Trip grinned as he rubbed his hands together. “Now, take off your coat.”

Lizzy reached into her bag and with a quick move slapped a leather crop against Trip’s chest. “You don’t get a say, Trip. I tell you what to do, and you do it or you’ll be punished. Understand?”

“Yes,” Trip said breathlessly.

“Good boy,” Lizzy said as she shrugged out of her coat. “Now strip.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Trip eagerly and somewhat clumsily shed his clothes.

“Now, bend over the bed,” Lizzy said, reaching into her bag for a small leather spanking paddle. “Am I going to have to punish you further?”

Trip moaned when he saw the paddle and quickly turned, placed his hands on the bed, and stuck his ass up in the air. Lizzy grimaced at the sight, and, with a roll of her eyes, began spanking him until she was pretty sure his ass was numb. She reached between her cleavage and pulled out the needle full of sodium pentothal. Lizzy jabbed it quickly into Trip’s red ass cheek. Trip jumped at the pinch.

“What was that?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I just had to pinch that sexy ass of yours. Now, let’s have some fun.” Lizzy smiled as she pulled out some silk ropes, and Trip’s eyes went in and out of focus.

“I want to fuck,” Trip said and then giggled.

“Good. Then let me tie you up so we can get started. It enhances your pleasure,” Lizzy purred as she quickly tied his arms and legs to the head and footboard. “Now, Trip, why don’t you tell me how you are feeling?”

“Like I want to fuck.”

“Are you feeling anything else?” Lizzy asked with the kind of patience she reserved for young children.

“I’m afraid you’ll think my dick is too small.”

“No worries, Trip,” Lizzy comforted even as she lied to him. “Have you heard the term Mollia Domini before?”

“Uh-huh. Can we fuck now?” Trip asked as if asking for dessert after cleaning his dinner plate.

“Not yet, Trip. Where did you hear Mollia Domini before?”

“When I was fucking.”

Dear lord, this man was trying her patience. “Who were you fucking when you heard it?”

“A blonde, Kerra, Claudia, Viv . . .” Trip laughed. “They’re all blonde. You’re blonde. Let’s fu—,”

Lizzy slapped his face hard, and it only caused Trip’s erection to jump with anticipation. “What did the blonde say about it?”

“That it was a secret group I should join. But I’m too busy to join some group that tells you what to do and say. They told the blonde what to say. Who was it? I don’t think it was Vivian. She only complains about her husband. Do you know he’s like seventy something years old?” Trip shivered and so did Lizzy.

Okay, so it was either Kerra or Claudia who talked to Trip. At least she’d narrowed it down. “What else did the blonde say about the group?”

Trip shrugged his shoulder and his penis wiggled. “Just that if I joined I would be rich and powerful, but I already am. Shit, my younger brother killed his maid during rough sex and dumped her in a river and no one said a thing. I don’t need a group to make me untouchable. Even if they said they were about to . . . about to . . . what was it? I think it was blow something up. I don’t remember.”

“Is that all you can remember about this group or the person who told you?” Lizzy asked one more time.

Trip closed his eyes and a second later nodded. “Yup.”

“One last thing before I bring you pleasure unlike any other,” Lizzy said, reaching into her bag. “What has Vivian told you about her husband, his family, and his company?”

Trip giggled. “Vivian is pregnant, but don’t tell anyone. I’m the daddy.”

Lizzy raised her eyebrows as she uncapped the second needle, keeping it hidden in her hand.

“Bertie has slow swimmers so every night they have sex, we have sex. Do you know that Vivian is twenty-six years of prime yoga sex on a stick? She’s prostituting herself with that old man just so she doesn’t have to work again, and she’s going to pop out as many of my babies as possible so when Bertie bites the dust, she’ll get a large part of the estate since he only has one child, Geofferies the VII. And for helping her, I’ll get a nice reward from the estate, too. Plus that woman is a freak in bed.”

“What about Bertie’s business? Any big business deals coming up soon?”

“I don’t know what, but he’s excited about the launch of something new. Viv said he’s hardly home, and he’s sure he’ll put Sebastian out of business. I hope not. I like Sebastian. He sends me things like you and drugs.”

This got Lizzy’s attention. “Sebastian has sent you gifts before?”

“Oh, yeah. You should have seen the twins he sent me when I stayed at his Pacific Hotel. And no one can get better drugs than Sebastian. He rewards me with it when I tell him the things I hear from my part of society, because no matter how hard Sebastian tries, he’s not part of our group.”

“Who is?” Lizzy asked.

“You know, old money. The Kamerons, the Stanworths, and the Geofferies—together our wealth makes up most of the wealth of the entire world. Has for generations, and that’s what Sebastian wants. But there’s one thing he’ll never have—breeding. He’s just some poor boy who grew up moving from town to town.”

“Do you know what Geofferies has planned to put Sebastian out of business?”

Trip shook his head. “Nope. Can we fuck now?”

“Yes, now just close your eyes,” Lizzy ordered as she tied a blindfold on before she jabbed the second needle into his hip. The mixture of dopamine and a host of drugs that Valeria had mixed up shot into Trip’s body, causing him to moan and gyrate on the bed.

“I’ll be damned,” Lizzy muttered as she gathered her things. Valeria had sworn this mix would make Trip think he was having the best night of his life. And by the way he was reacting, it appeared to be true. Lizzy headed out the back door, cautiously avoiding any interaction with security.