The walk from the bus stop to the club is about ten minutes. I walk damn fast, looking over my shoulder as I go.

This is seriously a bad idea. I shouldn’t be doing this on my own.

But I’m here now.

I’m in this.

I can’t turn back before at least checking out the club.

Lining up behind a group of girls, nerves skitter through me as I glance up at the club sign. The green neon glows against the dark background.

I hope she’s here. I hope my effort is worth this.

The bouncer raises his barely there eyebrows at me. “ID.”

I glance up at his dark, round face, instant dread pooling in my stomach.

Shit! I don’t have a fake ID.

With a sweet smile, I pull out my license, expecting a cool rejection, but instead he tips his head for the door.

I stand there, kind of surprised, until he starts laughing at me. “If you’re waiting for a stamp, I’m not giving you one.”

“A stamp?”

“No stamp, no liquor.”

“Oh.” I smile. “Well, that’s okay. I wasn’t planning on drinking.”

“Then go on. Get in there. The dance floor’s waiting.” He winks. “Anyone gives you trouble, you come see me.”

“Thanks.” I grin and slide past him.

Strobe lights are flickering as I edge into the crowded room. The thick bass pumps right through me. “Move, Shake, Drop” is impossible not to dance to and my hips wiggle a little as I ease my way around the edge of the dance floor.

I’m scanning the crowd the whole time, looking for a short Latina woman in tight clothes with perfect makeup and a beauty mark on her upper lip.

Stopping near the bar, I rise to my tiptoes and scan the crowd again. The strobe lights are off and there’s now a red hue over the crowd. I can’t see Luisa anywhere, although it’s going to be kind of impossible to spot her like this. I need to get in there and start circulating. Hopefully, if she’s here, I’ll bump into her.

Or I’ll spot something else that might trigger another clue.

Luisa obviously knew Cairo, the way they were talking to each other, so if I’m lucky enough to see her, I’ll drop his name to make a connection and then try to pull her into a quiet corner for a chat.

I’m still not sure exactly what I’ll say to her or how I’m going to ease into my questions about why she pretended to be a detective.

Should I even ask her that? Is that too confronting? Will it make her back off completely? Or kick me out of the club?

I worry my lip as I try to figure out the best way to approach this.

“What are you so worried about, sweetness?” A guy I don’t know appears beside me.

He’s tall and lean, with an angular face and short blond hair. His blue eyes are glassy with a mixture of alcohol and lust. I swallow and inch away from him.

“Where you going?” He jumps in front of me. “Do you want to dance?”

“No thanks.” I shake my head and try to smile at him. “I’m just waiting for my boyfriend.”

He clicks his tongue and looks over his shoulder, but still doesn’t give up.

Dammit.

His breath is warm and repulsive as he gets in my space. “What’s he doing leaving you standing all alone here?”

“He’s in the bathroom,” I grit out and quickly muscle my way into the crowd.

Shit, I hope he doesn’t follow me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I spot his head above the crowd and roll my eyes.

He’s not going to let me get away that easily and will no doubt keep up his little flirt-a-thon until my boyfriend shows up.

Which is never.

The thought sits like a rock in my belly.

I’m positive Vincent’s been held up by his asshole relatives, and that’s why I need to be here, proof-hunting.

Finding a sheltered corner near the bathrooms, I stand on a step that leads to an emergency exit and scan the club again.

By the time my gaze has swept the floor, Mr. Blue Eyes has spotted me and is working his way over with a drink in each hand.

Shit! He obviously doesn’t buy my boyfriend story and is now set on getting me drunk too.

With a little huff, I glance over my shoulder and spot the exit sign. It’s for emergencies only and if I pop it open, some kind of alarm will no doubt go off.

Crap, I wish Vincent were here. He wouldn’t let anyone near me.

I love how protected I feel when I’m around him.

Blue Eyes is getting closer.

What am I supposed to do?

Jumping down from my spot, I weave around the tables and consider making my way to the bouncer at the front door, but then I spot an archway to my right. It probably leads backstage. If I can duck in there without the guy noticing me, he can spend the rest of the evening searching the club and maybe I can sneak out some back staff entrance or something.

Running for the black archway, I duck through it and keep walking until I reach backstage.

I pause at the end of the corridor, wondering which way to turn when low chatter catches my ear.

I’m probably not supposed to be back here, so rather than pretending to be lost and heading back out to the club, I duck behind the first door I can find.

It’s white and has a big PRIVATE sign on the front, but there’s no light coming beneath the door, and I’ll only be in here a second. It’s not like I’ll disturb anyone.

Clicking it shut as quietly as I can, I wince and rest my forehead against the wood. I’ll wait two minutes before sneaking back into the corridor.

Seriously, this is not going at all how I planned.

Not that I really planned anything, I just spontaneously jumped on a bus and came here. I’m an idiot. How am I going to explain this to anyone?

Rolling my eyes at myself, I lean my ear against the wood to try to hear if the coast is clear, but I’m distracted by a noise behind me.

Glancing over my shoulder, I gaze into the shadowy darkness. I must be in some kind of office. I can make out a desk shape, and that thing to my left might be a couch.

A light from the room next door pops on and I flinch as it streams through the square window in the adjoining door.

There’s a soft giggle and then some kind of whispered conversation. The woman sounds Latina. I can’t hear what she just said, but I don’t miss the husky reply from a voice that sounds totally familiar.

Where do I know that voice from?

I creep toward the light, curiosity drowning out the cautious warning in the back of my mind.

“You hungry?” the woman asks.

“Only for you.” The man’s reply is followed by a playful growl that elicits another giggle.

I’m at the window now. I shouldn’t peek. I shouldn’t look.

But I know that voice.

Resting my fingers on the edge of the frame, I slowly shift my weight until I can see clearly into the room.

It’s a small space with another couch and a desk—seems like the mirror image of this room.

There’s a woman sitting on the edge of the big black desk, her legs spread to accommodate the man standing in front of her.

They’re making out—the heated kind that will lead to sex.

I’ll be leaving before that happens, but I just want to get a look at their faces. He’s kissing her neck, causing her to moan and dig her manicured nails into his dark hair.

I swallow, my breath hitching as she tips her head back, and I see Luisa Garcia. Even though I can’t see her entire face, I can tell it’s her.

The man glides his tongue up her neck, sucking the end of her chin, before standing tall to shed his jacket.

Holy shit!

It’s Milo Carter.

Mayor of Armitage.

Holden’s dad.

Mr. Family Values.

He’s about to have sex with a married woman…who isn’t his wife. And from the way they’re acting with each other, this isn’t the first time.

I’m so shocked I can’t move. My eyes are bulging big-time as I gape at the couple about to get it on.

And suddenly a thought hits me.

Maybe I’m not the only person to witness this.

Maybe a certain reporter saw something he shouldn’t have and was going to write all about it in the Armitage Gazette.

News like that would crucify a mayor.

News like that needs to be squashed…eliminated.

Erratic breaths punch out of me as I try to wrap my head around my theory.

I’m right. I’ve got to be right.

Todd McCrae told his girlfriend that he was sitting on something big. This is huge. Was he going to blackmail the mayor?

Did they kill him in anger and then try to cover it up?

Or were they waiting with their guns at the ready? Nick’s gun at the ready.

Mayor Carter would have the money and power to squash an investigation, and with ties to someone like Luisa Garcia, and her brother Tomas Santiago, they could easily make this thing go away, while setting up Nick Mancini at the same time.

Holy crap!

I have to call Dad.

My hands are shaking as I rip the phone out of my pocket. With trembling fingers, I try to dial my father, but can’t even unlock my phone screen without dropping it.

I scramble to catch it before it hits the floor, but all I manage to do is tip the edge of it so it flings sideways and hits the metal paper basket with a loud thwack.

Silence follows the unexpected sound and I crouch down against the door, hoping if I stay quiet enough that no one will investigate.

I wait it out, praying my breathing isn’t too loud. There’s a shuffling on the other side of the door. Neither of them has said anything.

Are they walking out of the room?

My nerves get the better of me and I slowly stand, glancing into the window and letting out a scream when Milo’s glare greets me head on.

Stumbling back from the door, I try to make an escape but he’s after me in a second, grabbing my waist and pulling me off my feet.

I scream again but he muffles the sound with his hand.

“Shut up,” he growls in my ear.

I struggle against him, kicking my legs, determined not to be frozen by fear this time. There’ll be no Vincent to rescue me, but I’ll fight like a wild cat to get out of this place.

Flailing my legs, I struggle for release as Mayor Carter drags me into the lit office.

“Shut her up.” Luisa glances at the door, urgent fear stark on her face.

“I’m trying.” Mayor Carter grunts, then roughly releases me. I hit the floor on uneven feet and stumble backward.

My hip whacks into the chair, throwing my balance. I fall with a gasp that is cut short when my head hits the edge of the desk and my world turns an instant shade of black.