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“Strangely, how?”

How do I even answer that question? The guy is strange when he isn’t under scrutiny.

Huffing, she slouches further in her chair. “I saw him walk off and hand the concierge guy some cash. Said he wanted to stay in his lucky room.”

Lucky room, my ass. He wanted to make sure he was on the same floor as Céleste. Preferably a couple of rooms down.

“But they were standing off a ways from me, so I didn’t hear nothin’.”

“Those bruises …. He put those on your face?”

“Again, my business.”

“Except, your face is my business when you’re clocked in, and no amount of fucking makeup can hide that plum on your cheekbone.”

“I’ll be careful next time. I promise.”

“You want a next time, after that? Are you glutton for punishment, or something?”

“The man paid me a lot of money to smack me around a little. Who cares about bruises, when I can feed my little boy now?”

“Your little boy, or your addiction?”

Seems I’ve hit a nerve, because she snorts a laugh and shakes her head, keeping her bruised cheek turned away from me. “Are we done?”

“Yeah. We’re done.” Every time one of these women exit my office, the urge to drink tugs at my throat. And it’s only noon.

An hour passes, while I finish up my paperwork, my mind spinning with the information I dug up the night before. I’m certain the individuals listed on that spreadsheet are, or were, part of some cult. And that video. Even now, the thought of it has my muscles all twisted up, imagining those screams.

Perhaps the chip is what Julio wants with the girl. But, why? How is he involved with this group?

And how can I take advantage of this information?

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts, as well as the fleeting seconds of regret over contemplating handing over Céleste and the chip for my freedom.

Very fleeting regret.

“Come in.” Tucking the last of my morning paperwork away, I ease back in the chair, and my muscles tighten beneath my skin when Aric pops his head in the door.

“Howdy. Got a second?”

No. “Only a second.”

Most men stride across a room, but this man shuffles, and the thirty seconds it takes to shuffle his ass toward the chair drives me nuts. When he finally slumps into the seat, the overwhelming odor of cheap cologne fills the office. With a punch-worthy grin stretched across his face, he leans back in the chair, resting his ankle against his thigh. Expectantly. “No drink?”

Without a word, I lean forward and reach for the decanter of bourbon, pouring two drinks. I could use one, too.

Amber liquor disappears down his throat as he swallows the whole thing back, and he pushes his glass toward me for another.

“Your second has already ticked away. What are you here for?”

“The girl from the card game the other night. Haven’t seen her around this island before.”

“And?” The air of boredom in my voice is hard to hide. Although, I had a feeling this conversation would eventually turn to Céleste.

“Thought I might’ve seen her at the hotel last night.”

Stupid connard must’ve been pissing and shitting flames when he found out she wasn’t there the next morning.