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The definition of stupid used to be Andrew. Now it’s Lucas. He officially won the top spot. If I opened the now long-obsolete dictionary, I bet there’s a picture of him in a diaper subtitled “stupid was born.” I holster my weapon, walk over to Lucas, and take his gun from him. He gives a blustery objection while the head of security, whom I’ll call dumbass number two, as Lucas gets the dumbass number one spot, laughs.

“Really?” I challenge incredulously. “You’re laughing at him? The drunk guy who just let me take his gun?”

“He wasn’t drunk when he kidnapped me.”

I snort. “You did see how easily I took his gun, right?”

“He’s drunk.”

“If you doubt me, I can leave you tied up until he’s sober and give him the gun back. I’m confident I can save you again.”

He’s a big, fit guy with red hair, and when he grits his teeth, the red blush of anger overtakes his plentiful freckles. “If I cared what happened to Pocher, I’d tell him to fire you.” He opens his mouth to speak, and I point the gun at him. “Silence.”

He draws in a breath, his chin bobbing with agreement. My attention returns to Lucas, who’s presently tipping back a bottle. I set the gun in my hand on a counter and knock the booze from his hand. “Stop it. Stop drinking. You’re going to rehab, you fool.”

“I don’t want to go to rehab. I want answers.”

“Then try being sober enough to be smart about getting them.”

He pushes to his feet and turns to face me. “I’m not that drunk,” he says as he sways slightly.

“I got up too fast,” he groans.

“ I got up too fast, ” I mock. “Of course, you did. And that ruddy tone to your skin is just a sunburn. If you’re not drunk, you can do your job.” His computer is sitting at the end of the table, and I open it. “Sit and find Elsa Walker. Her phone is in Maryland, but I know she is not. And if you can’t find her, I need to make a good guess on her next victim based on the target list.”

“He knows, Lilah. He knows about our parents.”

I glance over at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Paul.”

“Okay, Paul. When did you go to work for Pocher?”

“Three years ago this Christmas.”

I eye Lucas. “Okay, my dumbass cousin. He wasn’t with Pocher when it happened.”

“He knows .”

“Even if he does, he wouldn’t tell you. He’d end up dead.”

“I’ll kill him if he doesn’t,” he bites out, his fingers curled into his palms. “I will.”

He’s lost it, and I’m starting to think there’s more than booze involved. “Sit down and hack.”

“I thought I was your dumbass cousin?”

“What’s so sad, Lucas, is you’re the smartest dumbass I’ve ever known. Stop being a girl. You don’t get a period. You don’t have the excuse of raging hormones, but I do. And my hormones are powerful bitches. They want me to hurt you right now. Sit down and hack. It’s your job.”

“I’m beginning to think you don’t have ovaries. You’re such a bitch.”

“Thank you.” I eye Jay where he hovers at the entryway. “Tell Enrique that Paul needs a ride home.”

He pales again. It’s a mighty trick. The next thing I know, he’ll be in Docker shorts playing tennis. “What?” I press.

“He’s with Kane.”

“That’s his problem, not mine. Tell him I need him at Lucas’ house.”

He gives a sharp nod and backs out of the doorway. “Paul,” I say, as he earned my attention again. “I’m not going to kill you. It’s tempting. It really is, but it’s messy, and I don’t have time for messy. We both know you can’t tell Pocher you were stupid enough to get kidnapped without looking incompetent; therefore, I won’t kill you.” I pull my phone out and shoot a photo of him, the rope around his hands.

I check out my work and then turn it around to show him. His mouth is open. If he had a little drool, it would be a perfect little bitch shot. “Pocher should be impressed, don’t you think?” I query, all sticky sweet. “That’s a good knot he worked around your wrists, too.” I flick a look at Lucas. “Impressive.”

“I’ve been practicing,” he mumbles.

It’s a confession that tells me he’s been off the deep end and drowning longer than I know. “We’ll talk about that statement later.”

I return my attention to Paul. “I’ll keep the photo for my personal album, unless you give me a reason to use it otherwise.”

“I’m supposed to be on duty. I’m going to have to explain where I was.”

“That’s a problem for you to figure out. Or we can call Pocher together, if you’d rather. I’ll tell him I ran a test on his security before election night on Tuesday after the massive rally failure. Spoiler. You failed the test.”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” he grumbles, and with that win, I glare at Lucas, who’s still standing and presently staring at Paul. “Lucas,” I snap, pointing at the chair. “Sit. Hack.”

Enrique appears in the doorway. “What the fuck, Lilah?”

“Oh, relax. You’re not burying him, Enrique, though Lucas is making me want to cut him.” I glower at him again. “Sit down, Lucas.” This time he sits.

My attention returns to Enrique. “Just take him back to Pocher, will you?”

“Who is he?”

“Pocher’s head of security,” Paul states.

Enrique’s gaze shoots to Lucas. “You did this?”

“I’m a capable person.”

“Spoken with a slur a half bottle deep,” I comment dryly, motioning to the evidence on the table. “Which is why you have to go to rehab—after you find Elsa Walker.”

Paul stiffens. “What about Elsa Walker?”

My gaze rockets to his. “You know her?”

“She and her brother attended a campaign event recently and had VIP backstage passes. I believe Mark donated money to the campaign.”

Okay , I think. This is unexpected when perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Pocher, and now my father, it seems, are into just about everything. And since there’s no such thing as a coincidence, I’d assume this time is no exception.

“Change of plans,” I announce. “I’m coming along for the ride to Pocher’s place.”

If Pocher’s involved, I know exactly how to get him to talk.