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“Jesus, Max,” Devon said. “You’re a fucking genius.”

Max hit a key, and the computer beeped. “Yeah, well, this guy’s password was password, so next to him I definitely have a high fucking IQ.”

“This is all very… satisfying,” I admitted, “but how exactly does it get me the pay he owes me? And, I assume, all the other girls? If he’s broke and he’s evicted, he’s probably leaving town. Which means goodbye, money.”

Max looked away from the computer and at me. He looked hot this morning, his hair mussed, his beard trimmed from Friday night. “The money’s already gone, Gwen,” he said in his rough voice. “He’s been spending it on something. The question is, what?”

“It doesn’t help me if the money is spent,” I argued.

Devon’s voice was calm, and not unkind. “Don’t worry about the money,” he said, and I watched him exchange a look with Olivia. “You’re Olivia’s sister. It’s going to be taken care of.”

I opened my mouth to protest, and then I saw Olivia’s face. She was staring daggers at me, and I knew she was going to make me take the money whether I wanted it or not. Shit. There was no denying that I was in a hole, and that the money would help. But it was hard to swallow. It made me feel like a loser, a failure. Now I understood why Max never talked about his five million dollars.

I looked back at Max and found he was looking at me like he was reading my mind.

“What this is all about,” Devon said, motioning to the office around him, oblivious to the storm of my emotions, “is shutting this guy down for good. If we just sue him, or pressure him, he goes underground and starts over again somewhere else.”

There was a loud, breathy female gasp from the computer, followed by an orgasmic moan. We all stared as Max winced and clicked the mouse. “Jesus,” he said. “This guy watches a lot of porn.”

“I’m missing the good stuff,” Ben complained over the phone. “Max, send me bank records, employee records, whatever you find. And the porn, but only the best ones.”

“Get your own porn,” Max said, closing the porn—presumably—and clicking around. “I found the list of all the girls who work for him, with contacts. I also found payroll records. We need to get in touch with every woman on the list. He’s been skimming from all of them.”

“What do we have here?” Devon said, pulling a sealed envelope from the stack of papers he was holding and tearing it open. “Oh, looky. A key.”

“Jackpot,” Max said. He yanked at one of the desk drawers, which didn’t give. “Jeez, this guy is a real criminal mastermind.”

Devon put the key in the drawer and opened it. I couldn’t help it—I crowded behind him and stared inside, Olivia leaning over my shoulder. In the drawer were two white bricks, wrapped in clear plastic.

We were silent for a minute.

“There’s your money,” Max said.

“Oh, my God,” Olivia said.

“What is it?” Ben said over the phone. “It’s drugs, isn’t it? Damn, I knew it. I should have bet money.”

My head was spinning. “This isn’t happening,” I said. “Trent was buying drugs?”

Max picked up a pen from the desk and poked at one of the bricks without touching it. He slid it across the bottom of the drawer, assessing it from where he sat in his chair.

“What do you say, Max?” Devon’s voice was quiet.

“Uncut, each one is worth fifteen grand, maybe twenty,” Max said.

Devon pulled his keys from his pocket and spun them around his finger, his green eyes deep in calculation. “My guess is uncut,” he said after a minute. “I’m thinking he got hold of a good connection, but he needed the money to get started. That, right there, is good shit.”

“Porn and drugs?” Ben said over the speaker. “This guy is a walking party.”

Max looked at me, his expression unreadable, and then he kicked the drawer closed with his toe. “He knows this is here,” he said. “He’s probably running right now.”

“He is,” Devon said, checking his phone. “He’s on his way to LAX, based in the GPS I had put on his car last night. I’ll make some calls.” He put his keys back in his pocket and inhaled deeply, then smiled. “I love the smell of roasted drug dealer. This has been a productive day.”

“Devon,” I said, “thank you. And remind me never to piss you off.”

He laughed. “You never met Cavan,” he told me. “I’m the nice Wilder brother.”

He left, and Olivia left with him, giving me a “call me later” sign over her shoulder. Ben hung up and Devon took his cell phone with him. And that left just me and Max.

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