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“Consider it done,” I tell him.
“Do we already have surveillance?” he asks.
“Not outside of The Club. I’ll set it up.” Focusing on Miss Miller alone keeps my head clear. We’ll install surveillance and trackers on her car, her phone and her residence. Everything. “It won’t take long.”
“We have to know what she has on us,” Jase speaks and I nod, going over every step from the previous times we’ve dealt with someone who’s snitched. It never ends well for them.
“Scarlet, though?” I question him again, narrowing my eyes as I tilt my head.
“That’s what it seems like. If not her, it’s someone else here. The books were mentioned.”
A tension runs through my body. We can get away with murder easily enough, but money laundering is far more difficult.
Clearing my throat, I tell him, “I see.”
“If history is anything to go by, they’ll look into the numbers.”
My mind slips back to Braelynn as I tell my brother, “We’ll find a way to flush them out.”
My brother drones on, his voice turning to white noise as I watch the cameras and in them see Scarlet with her hand on Braelynn’s back.
There’s a sinking feeling in my chest, one that weighs my breath down, making it harder to focus, harder to think of anything other than the possibility that she’s come here to ruin me.
With my thumb resting on my bottom lip, I will her to answer me the question.Did you come here to destroy me, Braelynn?
I remember her well, the girl I used to know. But we all change, don’t we?
“I’ll get to the bottom of it,” I tell Jase, dragging my gaze away from her. “Whoever it is, they won’t be a problem for long.”
* * *
The hours drift by slowly. Jase forwarded the report he paid an officer for when he got word there was someone on the inside. It pays to have the higher-ups in your back pocket.
All we need to do is stay one step ahead of them. They may have someone watching us, but we have dozens watching them.
The black and white text on the computer screen has stared back at me, taunting me and every move I’ve made since opening the doors to The Club. According to the report, they need evidence before getting approval for a bust. The feds have an estimated timeline of six months. Which means Scarlet, and any other witnesses, need to be long gone by then so their testimony is irrelevant and, in that time, we can’t slip up.
There’s not a doubt in my mind it’s a waitress here who’s given the information in this report. There are details about deals that have gone down exclusively in the dining room upstairs. No one makes a move without our approval and the money that’s been exchanged is well documented.
Running my hand through my hair, I lean back and take a deep breath.
It’s all hearsay at this point, no proof. If there’s no hard evidence, they have to rely on witnesses. Which begs the question, which one of them is it?
A whisper tickles the back of my mind.Is Braelynn involved?I don’t believe in coincidences and the timing isn’t on her side. Scarlet was around for every one of the documented testimonies in this report. And Braelynn is guilty by association.
That doesn’t explain why I flick back over to the monitor, watching her tempting curves as she leans over the bar counter, reaching for a cocktail napkin.
A deep groan resonates in the back of my throat.
It’s late. The singer this evening is already gone, leaving a lone mic on the stage.
Three a.m. is only minutes away, and most of the waitresses have left with their chosen date for the evening. Scarlet’s laid over the lap of a man she’s been with more than once.
I don’t ask details. I don’t involve myself in what the women do. What my employees choose to do after hours is their business, not mine.
Although it doesn’t hurt my bottom line.
Clicking through the cameras, I account for each and every one of the patrons and employees.
