Finn emerged on the first floor of the hotel, fighting a sneeze. It was dusty up here, and mold clung to every particle of air that made it into his nose and lungs. Santino waited outside a door a few yards down the hallway, facing Finn and Bailey as they came closer. Neo’s lieutenant gave Finn a nod before opening the door and standing aside so they could enter.

It was a husk of a room; bare and peeling walls, debris congregating in the corners, a rickety chair in the middle of the otherwise empty space.

A man sat on the chair, arms and legs cable-tied to the wood. He wasn’t wearing a gag, but from the tight set of his wide mouth, he didn’t plan on speaking any time soon.

“This him?” Neo asked, pointing a limp hand in the man’s direction.

“Bailey?” Finn glanced at Bailey over his shoulder.

Grey eyes narrowed, and then Bailey moved his gaze to Finn and gave him a curt nod. Finn lunged forward, drew back an arm, and caught the guy a solid punch to his jaw.

Beside the crack of knuckles against bone, there was no other sound in the room.

Fuck; he’d expected at least a grunt of pain.

Instead, the man straightened his head and grinned at Finn with a Hollywood smile that lit up his eyes.

“You search him?” Finn asked, hand already diving inside the man’s suit.

“Didn’t want to touch him until you got here,” Neo said immediately. “You hear anything about Cora yet?”

Finn shook his head. “You?”

“Nothing. I don’t know how they could have gotten her out. Front’s still locked.”

“And the back, by the kitchen?”

“That doesn’t go anywhere, does it? I mean, you’d have to climb a fence to—”

“You think a fucking fence is going to stop someone?” Bailey snapped from behind him.

“Listen—” Neo began.

“Enough!” Finn straightened, sharing a glare between the two of them. “You two, out.”

Both Bailey and Neo’s eyebrows shot up.

“But—” Bailey said.

“Now.” It came out as a low growl. Either that or the look on his face was enough to convince both men that they’d be safer outside than in here with him.

His beast purred appreciatively, eager to sink its claws into the man tied up in the chair without witnesses to interrupt.

Which was exactly why Finn wouldn’t allow himself a second punch.

A second would lead to a third, a third to a fourth…and what good would a corpse be to him?

As soon as the door closed behind Neo and Bailey, Finn went to work searching the man. This brought their faces close together. The man made no attempt to hide how he scanned Finn’s features, and Finn didn’t bother looking away. His beast grew more and more restless the longer they maintained eye contact, as if unhappy with the slowly building apprehension tainting the air.

“What’s your name?” Finn asked.

“Peter.”

“What’s your real name?”

A flash of what could have been surprise glittered over the man’s dark eyes. His lips slowly curved into a smile. “Peter,” he said again, slower this time.

“Fine, Peter.” His fingers touched something, and he pulled it out a second later. A bag of small white pills. “What are these?”

“Rohypnol,” Peter replied cheerily.

Finn’s heart gave a slow, hard thump against his breast bone. “You drugged her?”

Peter’s eyes were bright, intelligent, and wrong. Finn’s beast sniffed at the air, and recoiled.

Those weren’t the eyes of a sane man.

“She was drugged,” Peter said, “But not by me.”

Finn closed his hands over the package. “And Lars?”

“Who?”

“Tall, blond guy.” A sneer found its way onto Finn’s mouth. “You two could have done a fucking photo shoot together?”

“Oh, him?” Peter’s eyes gleamed. “Yeah, that was me.”

Calm. Focus. Fucking zen.

A corpse would be no good to him.

“Where is she?” he spoke carefully, but couldn’t help the way his words shook.

Peter studied him for a second. “Don’t know. Someone took her.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. We were all wearing masks.”

“You’re not alone?”

“Everyone at the party,” the man corrected. Then his gaze slid away from Finn, studying the room, the gaping windows, the moon hanging in the sky. It was the sole source of illumination in the room, but it was bright enough that it did a spectacular job of highlighting the man’s features. “But, also, I’m not alone.”

A blow torch of irritation flowered inside Finn’s chest. He grabbed Peter’s throat, giving it a warning squeeze while he tried to ignore the howl of his beast.

“How many?”

“An entire SWAT team.”

Finn studied him for a second. “You’re lying.”

Those eyes gave away nothing. “There’s a pocket hidden in the lining of my jacket. Right along the inner seam. Has all the proof you need.”

Finn didn’t break eye contact as his hand darted inside the man’s jacket. He felt along the lining until his fingers touched a reinforced seam. He slid his hand inside and touched metal.

The DEA badge felt too heavy in his palm when he drew it out.

Finn looked up at Peter again.

Long dark hair, dark eyes.

“You put the tracker on Gabriella’s truck,”

Finn said.

It wasn’t a question, but Peter cocked his head and drew his brows together. “Was that her name?”

Fuck.

The DEA, just as Bailey had suspected. It wasn’t a surprise, of course. If the DEA had caught wind of Javier’s announcement, they’d have been eager to try and locate ECV’s new capos. Especially those that didn’t have as much experience in laying low as their veteran forerunner, Javier.

But how the fuck had they found out about this place?

Finn slowly turned to the door. Then he glanced back at Peter. “How’d you find out about this party?”

“One of the guests,” Peter said innocently, his smile never shifting.

“Who?”

Peter studied him for a moment before giving a small shrug. “Zachary West.”

Finn’s face prickled hot and cold as blood drained from it. “Fuck,” he muttered urgently, squeezing the badge so hard that it cut into his palm as he ran for the door.

When he flung it open, Bailey’s lifeless body toppled into the room.