“How are you gaining access to the club?” Ian asked, opening the folder. “Did you follow up on the reporter?”
Simon nodded. “I pulled up everything I could on her last night. She graduated from Columbia with a Master’s in Journalism. She worked at two small papers and then started doing some freelance work. She hit a couple of big stories, and now she works freelance full time. Comes from money as far as I can tell. She’s the only daughter of a couple of wealthy socialites. When they died a few years back, they left her everything. I tried to find a good picture of her, but all I could get is this grainy shot of her in Pakistan when she was reporting on the Kashmir district.”
“Odd. You couldn’t even find a Facebook picture?” Adam asked.
“Nope. She’s very private. No social media. Her driver’s license is in there, but she’s due to renew next year.”
Alex shrugged. “Looks enough like her. Anyway, Kristen has been working there for a couple of months, and she thinks Evans is going to show up soon.”
“What proof does she have of that?” Eve asked.
“She’s heard word that he comes in every six months to check on operations and keep his flunkies in line. He’s due in anytime. I’m hiring on as the Dom in Residence.”
She felt her skin flush. Evans was a bastard. Maybe Alex was right that Evans hadn’t forgotten about them. There was only one reason to use BDSM as a theme and that was to send Alex a giant middle finger. “He’s set his new network up as BDSM clubs?”
“They’re fetish themed nightclubs,” Alex replied tightly.
Well, Michael Evans always had a sick sense of humor. “Why can’t Ryan go in? He runs Sanctum.”
“Ryan isn’t trained. If I need someone to pose as a CEO, I’ll send Ryan in,” Alex shot back.
“Whereas it’s so much better to send in someone who’s emotionally involved and who could be recognized at any moment. Yes, that’s a much better idea,” Ian said with lazy menace. “Would you like to explain why I’m not going in?”
Alex got his stubborn face on. His brows furrowed and those massive linebacker shoulders of his squared off. He was acting like a five-year-old with a toy he didn’t want to share, so why did she find him so damn attractive? “The source is only willing to work with me.”
Ian shrugged. “Then make her willing to work with me.”
Alex leaned over the table, his hands flat on the top. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to get her to let anyone but me in. I’ve been talking to this woman online for six weeks. I’ve finally gotten her to agree to meet, and last night I managed to negotiate to bring a couple of people in. I thought she was going to walk. She will if we change out leads. I’m going in, Ian. And you know damn well why, and you would do the same thing in my position.”
Ian groaned and let his head fall back. “Fine. I very likely would, but then you would be in my shoes pointing out how fucking stupid all of this is. We don’t know anything about this woman. She could be working for Evans for all you know.”
He’d thought through that scenario, too. “Then I’ll get to see him sooner than I thought. But I don’t think she’s working for him. Her credentials check out and this would be just the type of story she usually does. I talked to two of the editors she’s worked with and they said she’s one of the best in the business, but she disappears for long stretches because she goes undercover. I know I’m taking a chance, but it’s my chance to take.”
Ian ran a frustrated hand through his hair and seemed to concede. “So, how many other people can we get in there? If you think you’re going in alone, you’re insane.”
Alex’s eyes found his file again. “Like I said, I negotiated with her, but she’s stubborn. I can bring three people with me. I need Adam on call.”
Adam nodded. “Sure. Do I need to go to Florida? Make it quick. Serena can still fly for about six weeks. After that I’m stuck here because I’m not leaving her behind while she’s pregnant.”
“Yes, because god knows I can’t take care of her,” Jake said with a long-suffering sigh.
“Well, you forget her marshmallows. She’s carrying our baby and you expect her to drink hot cocoa without marshmallows.”
“Dear god, you would think she’s the queen of fucking England,” Ian said with one of his patented eye rolls.
“Not at all,” Simon replied drolly. “Her Majesty would never touch anything so lowbrow as cocoa. Now, my cousin on the other hand will, and William definitely prefers marshmallows. Harry pretends his Irish cream is cocoa, and even then he’ll spike it with whiskey. Funny fellow, Harry.”
Simon was connected.
Liam made a vomiting sound. “Get back to Buckingham, you prat. And that’s complete shite. You’re like third cousins and your brother’s the heir.”
Simon leaned forward, obviously willing to prolong the argument, but Eve had other things on her mind. “Evans knows what you look like, Alex.”