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“Want some champagne?” Silas whispers in my ear over the band playing, and it tickles my thighs.
“Just one for now,”—I wink—“we got a job to do.”
Silas knows Pamela’s story. He knows why I’m here, and he makes the sexiest accomplice.
A waiter passes with a tray of full flutes, and Silas grabs us two. We’re sipping and scanning the crowd, and within minutes, Stacey Evans is by my side.
“I’m so glad you came.” She wraps her arm around me and whispers in my ear. “I gotta tell you something.”
Silas gets pulled into a conversation with a couple who knows his parents, so I focus on Stacey.
“Are you okay?”
“More than okay.” Delight dances in her eyes. “I’m dying to tell someone, and my heart just knows you can keep a secret.”
I chuckle. “Like a fucking vault.”
Why I feel so connected to Stacey, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because she’s in danger, and I want to protect her. Maybe it’s because she’s nothing but truly kind. Or maybe it’s because she’s another woman, so why wouldn’t I?
“The painters that came over.” Stacey pulls me into a hushed chat. The music swirls around us while she confesses, “I learned a few tricks with a very skilled one.”
This champagne is opium because I just went numb. In a good way. “One of the painters?” I’m proud of her. “Is that what you wanted?”
“Hell, yes, I started it.” She squeezes my hand. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but Gentry’s been so mean for so long, and I’m so lonely, so please don’t judge.”
“You deserve love, too.” I toast her glass. “Or at least a skilled trick.”
“We gotta do coffee so I can tell you more,” she gushes. “I’m just bursting and need to tell one of the few friends I trust.”
“I got your back.” I scan the crowd. “You sure Gentry doesn’t know?”
“How could he? He was off on his yacht on one of his exclusive golf tours. I could have an orgy with a football team, and he’d be none the wiser.”
“Do you need me to call the Carolina Panthers?”
We both start laughing, and that turns heads. Shit, we gotta be careful, but this intel changes everything. Stacey’s ready to break free of Gentry’s prison, and I’m the jail-breaker who’ll help.
“These golf tours?” I ask her. “What are they?”
She rolls her eyes. “They’re through his rental company. Men book a golf tournament, and they get a yacht trip and a condo here for a week, too—all private, all elite, and all bullshit. I know they’re fucking around the whole time.”
Oh, I know it, too.
I saw it myself between Gentry and TJ. But I didn’t know Gentry’s evolved it into a sophisticated business model. One that screams criminal to me. I gotta figure out how they’re all connected. And then, I gotta prove it.
Another guest grabs Stacey’s attention while I smile my way into getting Silas free of his chat. Pulling his hand through the crowd, I tell him, “Let’s find someplace private.”
“Well, Happy New Year to me.” He’s game.
Guests gather everywhere, outside and in. But the crowd thins down a hallway past a powder room leading to an impressive office. It’s empty, and this is my chance.
“There’s gotta be something in here,” I tell Silas.
He scans Gentry’s desk without touching anything. I start combing the rows of bookshelves—leather-bound classics I’m sure the dumbass Senator has never read. But there are lots of pictures of him on his yacht, fishing with groups of men.
I pause and scan the horizon of the photos for clues. Where is he fishing?
It’s the Lowcountry islands, but which one? There are dozens of islands, some public, some private. But I swear, in a few, I can barely see the Harbour Towne lighthouse on Hilton Head in the distance.
