Page 24

I don’t know if Justin hurt Ben before that night or how many others there have been, but there are too many accusations for me to ignore. I close the file and set the laptop aside. I’ve seen enough.

Less than an hour later, I’m questioning every life choice that brought me back into a techno club. The bass pounds through the floor and straight into my skull while flashing lights cut through a haze of sweat, cheap cologne and spilled liquor. Bodies are packed shoulder to shoulder, and half the crowd looks young enough that I want to check IDs instead of blend in with them.

God, I’m getting old. A couple of years ago, I would’ve been out there with them until closing. Tonight, I’d rather be home with my laptop and a glass of wine, especially when another guy bumps into me and nearly dumps his drink down my shirt.

I sidestep him and scan the room again. Justin has to be here somewhere. Less than an hour ago, he posted a picture of himself and a group of friends standing outside this club in designer clothes, wearing the kind of smug grins that practically beg people to look at them.

Justin practically handed me his location with that Instagram post, and I find him at the bar surrounded by a handful of younger guys. He laughs at something, and they laugh with him, leaning closer as he talks. From here, he looks exactly like the kind of man people want to be around—confident, charming and completely harmless.

One of the guys rests a hand on Justin’s arm, smiling up at him, and I have to stop myself from going over there and telling every one of them what I found in that file. They wouldn’t see the man Ben described. They’d see the polished rich guy buying drinks and giving them his attention.

I stay at the other end of the bar and keep Justin in sight. I came here to learn his habits, not confront him, and as long as he spends the night buying drinks and feeding his ego, that’s all I’ll do. If one of those guys tells him no and Justin decides not to listen, I’ll have a much harder time standing here and watching.

I dressed to blend in, sticking with tight black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, then worked enough hair chalk through my dark hair to turn it a washed-out baby blue. Thick-rimmed glasses with orange-tinted lenses finished the disguise. I barely recognized myself when I checked the mirror before leaving, which should be more than enough to keep Justin from looking at me twice. So far, it’s working. I’m just another body in the crowd while I keep an eye on him from across the bar.

“Mr. Campbell.” I jump with a very undignified yelp and spin around to find a man in a tailored black suit standing beside me. What the actual fuck?

I’m certain I’ve never seen him before. That doesn’t explain how he recognized me through blue hair and tinted glasses.

Law enforcement is the first possibility that comes to mind, which sends my thoughts straight to my last job and everything I might have missed. The man makes no move for handcuffs or a badge, though. He just stands there watching me while I try to figure out who the hell he is.

I give him my best confused smile. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

“No, Mr. Campbell.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “I most certainly have not.”

Well, shit. So much for the disguise.

Chapter 14 Duncan

I stare through the tinted window of the limousine at the nightclub entrance while Kenji searches for Nash inside. After last night, finding him in another club did nothing for my mood, but Kenji convinced me that sending him in first would draw less attention than having me walk through the door looking for one particular man.

“Sir.” His voice comes through my earpiece. “I’ve found Mr. Campbell.”

“Is he alone?”

“Yes, sir. He’s at the bar.”

“Bring him out.”

“Copy that.”

The doors open a few minutes later, and Kenji steps outside with a man sporting baby-blue hair and thick-rimmed glasses. I look past him for Nash before something about the way the man moves pulls my attention back. It’s him.

I lean forward as they approach the limousine. The blue hair and tinted lenses are convincing enough that I almost missed him even though I was specifically waiting for him. Why the hell is Nash dressed like that?

Kenji opens the door, and Nash slides into the seat across from me without so much as a glance in my direction. By the time Kenji returns to the driver’s seat and raises the privacy divider, Nash has his arms crossed over his chest.

“Mind explaining a few things to me, Mr. Murphy? Are you following me? Because I should’ve questioned that last night. How the hell did you know I was at The Velvet Collar?”

Mr. Murphy. Apparently, Daddy is reserved for when he isn’t furious with me.

“I had you followed.”

His attention snaps to me. “You’re actually admitting it? How long has this been going on?”

“Since the day you put your hands on me in my office. I followed you myself that afternoon, and after that, I made sure I knew where you were.”

His eyes widen behind the orange-tinted lenses. “You started following me over the fucking muscle rub?”