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A small grin curves the corners of the agent’s lips, as if he’s amused, but there’s an air about him, like he thinks he’s better—smarter—than us. Ballsack’s intel says he was sent in from theState office or has connections in Forsyth. He’s staying down on the Avenue in that shitty flop hotel, but spends most of his time over at the Hideaway fucking the Madam.

“People who don’t cooperate tend to have something to hide.” He looks around the grounds, clocking the various security cameras and sensors I have in place. “What are you hiding behind these ridiculous gates and all the security?”

“It’s mostly brocade drapes and cherub paintings.” Wick draws his attention off me. “But what about you, Agent Knight? Got any secrets? Because the way we heard it, you’re only here for the South Side trim. Are the feds paying for pussy now, too?”

“Whitaker, right?” Knight asks, opening the ledger. His eyes scan it quickly. “Everyone I’ve spoken to so far has described you like a poodle, which confused me at first, but now I get it.” His lips curl. “Well-groomed, yippy little barks, and largely ineffectual.”

“Emphasis on largely.” My brother grabs his crotch. “And you’ve been talking about me? I’m flattered.”

Knight ignores him and turns to me. “You’re Pace.”

I lift my chin. “And you’re wasting our nice evening.”

“Doesn’t have to be a waste.” He flips a piece of paper over in his ledger, giving me an intentional view of what’s underneath. My court documents. “Just got out of an eighteen-month stint in the Forsyth Penitentiary for wire fraud, right?”

This guy.

“Agent,” Lex steps between us, aware I’m about to pop off, “we know our rights. You’re not getting past the gates without a warrant. Go downtown, talk to the judge, and get one signed. Then we’ll happily let you in.”

There’s a reason Lex is the smartest. He operates on facts and not emotion like me and Wick. There’s not a judge in the whole damn town that’ll issue a warrant on Ashby’s Palace. Each andevery one is a frequent flier down at the Chamber. Father’s got more dirt on these men than our gardener’s boots.

Agent Knight shrugs. “I’m just trying to find the girl; Stella St. James.” He digs through the folder and pulls out a sheet of paper. It’s one of the flyers Rory’s been passing around. “It’s my understanding you’ve been looking for her, too.”

“Sure, Stella’s a sweet girl,” Lex says, “and yeah, we’ve put in the effort to find her. Trust me when I say that no one in East End wants to fuck with a South Side asset. But she didn’t go missing in the palace.” He nods outside the gate. “She went missing out there.”

“True,” Knight says, his gaze ticking back over to me, “but she worked here, and this house isn’t the only place you’ve got cameras, is it? I hear there’s footage of the day Stella went missing.”

I stare blankly. “And?”

He stares boldly back. “And it seems like it’d be in both of our interests for you to share that so I can have it officially examined.”

“Sure,” I say, with a small shrug, “when you get a warrant.”

Wick barely conceals a snort.

“Let me get this straight,” Knight says, his tone shifting from friendly good cop to something darker. “Six women have gone missing in Forsyth and instead of feeling concerned about that, you’re impeding the investigation.”

Straightening my spine, I crowd up on him. “You don’t get to show up at our house and accuse us of not doing enough to find Stella. These women have been going missing for months, and we’re the only ones doing anything about it. Those flyers have been posted for weeks and not one single law enforcement agency has shown up until now. And instead of organizing a search party, you’re in our faces doing fuck-all. Why is that?” Blood thrums in my ears. “You’re not here because you give ashit about the missing girls. You’re here to rack up credit from a whore you’ve gotten too invested in.”

Knight’s olive complexion turns a deep shade of red. He snaps the ledger shut. “Fuck you.”

“Get a warrant for that, too,” I mutter, done with this bullshit. I turn and walk back toward the palace, my brothers following close behind.

“Christ,” I hear Knight say down by the gate, “you Royals are real pains in my ass, you know that?”

He has no idea how much of a pain we really can be if we have the time to put our minds to it. But we’ve got much bigger and more pressing things to deal with, like finding a man named William.

“This is it?”Verity asks, looking out the window. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

Father’s club is in a nondescript brick building. No windows, no neon signs. “It’s not a trashy strip club out on the highway for truck drivers and pathetic men from the suburbs to haunt,” I tell her. “It’s an exclusive club for the powerful, wealthy, and connected in Forsyth.”

Dubiously, she guesses, “People who happen to enjoy doing business while women dance and serve them mostly naked.”

“Well,” I grin, “obviously.”

It’s my idea to bring Verity with me to deliver the proof of life to the Baron King. Wicker obviously couldn’t come without triggering WW3 and Lex wanted to stay back and make sure Father didn’t have any life-threatening injuries. But now that I see her sitting next to me in a pale green, summery dress thathas flowy little sleeves and a sexy tie nestled under her breasts, I’m not sure I want to take her into this den of sin.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she says.