‘Bart was?’ Gwyn asked.
‘He was one of the young men found stuffed with your matchbooks,’ Alistair said, his eyes growing even colder, something Gwyn hadn’t thought possible.
‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. That meant Bart had been at Sheidalin on Sunday night. ‘Did she recognize him?’
‘He recognized her,’ Alistair corrected. ‘But she must have seen him too, because he’s dead.’
‘Where did she go the night Bart followed her? Back when she was trying to infiltrate the Freaks?’ Thorne asked, but his tone said that he already knew the answer, and in that moment, so did Gwyn.
‘F—’ She broke off the curse, unsure about biker gang etiquette. ‘No way. Are you saying that Bianca, Laura, whoever she was, was working for’ – she lowered her voice – ‘Tavilla?’
Alistair nodded once. ‘She left Bart’s bed and went to the restaurant Tavilla enjoys.’
‘Bruno’s,’ Thorne said flatly.
‘High cuisine,’ Alistair sneered. ‘He’s an arrogant prick. Thinks because he wears two-thousand-dollar suits and sips champagne with his pinky out that he’s some kind of gentleman.’
‘When he’s just a common thug,’ Thorne murmured, even though he also wore an expensive suit. ‘Like the two of us.’
Alistair grunted. ‘Not as good as the two of us. Smarmy little punk.’
Thorne chuckled. ‘I wish you were legit, Alistair. I’d invite you to my poker game.’
The mustache twitched again, this time revealing a glimpse of white teeth. ‘I’d rob you blind.’
‘I know.’ Still gripping Gwyn’s hand, Thorne raked his other hand through his hair. ‘We missed something on the background check.’
Alistair nodded. ‘I’d have to agree with that.’
Gwyn cleared her throat. ‘How did your guys end up at Sheidalin on Sunday?’
One massive tattooed shoulder lifted. ‘I sent them there. I’ve had my eye on your club for years. Too bad it’s closed. Really. Even if we weren’t able to strike a deal with you on the inside, we’ve made a mint selling to your clients as they leave.’
Thorne winced. ‘I don’t want to know that. Now I have to stop you when we open again. Because we will open again.’
‘I wouldn’t want you to get bored, Thorne,’ Alistair drawled. He pulled a piece of paper from a pocket inside his vest and handed it across. ‘Final payment on my debt.’
Thorne unfolded it and frowned. ‘Who is . . .’ He squinted. ‘That’s Laura. Bianca. Whoever.’
‘Her real name is Kathryn. She’s worked for Tavilla for years. What’s wrong?’
Thorne had grown very, very still. At last he seemed to shake himself, then he refolded the paper and slid it into his own pocket. ‘Thank you, Alistair. Truly.’
Alistair looked like he’d press the issue, and Gwyn sensed that this was a topic Thorne would not discuss. She leaned forward, catching the biker’s eye. ‘If I may . . .’ she began, encouraged when he nodded. ‘Why is your club named Circus Freaks?’
‘Because I come from a circus family,’ he answered, surprising her. ‘My grandfather was a strongman. So was my father. He was even bigger than me.’
‘I’m glad to hear that,’ she said sincerely, and it was true. ‘I know sideshow performers, and they’re salt of the earth. I’m glad you’re not just using their name.’
Alistair studied her. ‘You were a contortionist.’
Again he’d surprised her. ‘Everyone always remembers that,’ she grumbled. ‘I was also a tightrope performer.’
‘Not such a good one, since you got hurt. Which is why you left the circus.’
It was a fair assessment. ‘You really did your research.’ That factoid wasn’t in the bio posted on the club’s website.
‘Of course. I figured he’d bring you. You’ve been joined at the hip for days.’
‘You’ve been watching us,’ she said, injecting just a tiny bit of challenge.
‘And I’m not the only one. Be careful, little contortionist,’ he said very seriously. ‘Some of the people watching you are not as nice as I am.’
‘We will.’ She offered her hand. ‘Thank you again for not killing us.’
He took her hand in his meaty paw, shaking it gently. ‘You’re welcome. Now go. My hospitality only extends so far.’
Gwyn rose, tugging Thorne with her. He followed, his brows knit. Clearly troubled.
She waited until they were in the SUV before asking, ‘What was that?’ He gave her the paper and she scrutinized the photo of Laura, aka Bianca, aka Kathryn, apparently. ‘She looks really different. Not just hair color, but she wore facial prosthetics or something when she worked for us. Her face is almost like a stranger’s.’
‘Not so much,’ he said. He opened his phone, swiped and tapped the screen, then handed it to her. ‘This is a photo Ramirez sent to me last August.’
A tanned man in a suit and tie sat next to Cesar Tavilla, who had a pretty young woman perched on his knee. ‘Is that Gage Jarvis?’
The man who’d killed his wife and tried to kill his daughter because she’d witnessed the murder. Thorne had helped Joseph and JD catch him, and this act of decency had drawn Tavilla’s attention once again.
‘Yes. Look at the woman on his knee.’
Gwyn enlarged the photo and gasped. It was the woman they’d known as Laura. The woman who’d set them up on drug charges and who’d likely cleaned out half of their cash reserves.
‘She worked for us for six months,’ Thorne said. ‘And all the time he was waiting. Just waiting.’
Her blood ran cold. ‘He’s been planning to take you down for a long time then,’ she murmured. ‘He pulled the trigger when his son died in prison.’
Thorne started the SUV and pulled away from the crab shack. ‘Laura slipped right through the background check. We need to talk to Anne and find out how this happened. Can you call Jamie? He’s got all the employee files. He can give us her address.’
Gwyn started to do as he asked, then froze, her pulse leaping into the stratosphere. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. She enlarged the photo to maximum scale, her heart threatening to break through her ribs. ‘Thorne,’ she whispered. ‘Oh my God. Pull over. Now.’
With a screech of brakes, he complied, pulling onto the shoulder. Wordlessly, her hand trembling, she handed him back his phone.
She knew the moment he spotted the woman standing in the back of the room, behind the seated Tavilla. Dressed in a simple white sheath dress, her blond hair in an elegant twist, she exuded wealth and dignity.
Thorne’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He swallowed, moistened his lips. ‘Anne,’ he said hoarsely. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know.’ But she did know that if she’d been halfway human for the last four years, Anne wouldn’t have been hired in the first place. ‘This is a problem.’
‘Yeah. She’s had access to all our client records at the law firm. She knows everything.’
They sat in silence, trying to absorb this new truth. The silence was broken by the buzzing of Thorne’s phone. Caller ID was Jamie. He put him on speaker.
‘I’m here with Gwyn,’ Thorne said, his voice still hoarse. ‘Is it Phil?’
‘No,’ Jamie said, his own voice tight. ‘Phil is fine. I’m standing outside his room right now. But we have some new developments.’
Thorne’s laugh was painful to hear. ‘So do we. You go first.’
‘I’ve gotten several phone calls from clients. Someone is blackmailing them with information that they swear was told only to you.’
Thorne closed his eyes. Again he tried to speak and couldn’t.
‘Are you there?’ Jamie demanded.
‘He’s here,’ Gwyn said. ‘It’s Anne, Jamie. And Laura from the club. They both work for Tavilla.’
There was a moment of shocked silence. ‘What? Are you sure?’
‘Yes. We have a photo showing them together. All three of them. Laura’s real name is Kathryn. We don’t know Anne’s yet.’
‘This is a nightmare,’ Jamie murmured. ‘I have to think. Is Thorne all right?’