Sevastyan considered the angles before he nodded. What kind of father would put his children at such risk? Such betrayal sat heavy in his gut. He knew the answer. A greedy one. “I think we’re on the right path.” He rubbed a finger against his lower lip. “More so now than before.”
“Do you want to wait and see, play it out a little longer, put a tail on her?”
“Good idea. Pull Roman off the floor and put him on her. Maybe the answer to who killed my brother has been under our noses all along.”
Lucian groaned. “He’s going to love being all alone with her again.”
“What does that mean?”
“Last night, after our meeting, he fucked her in the downstairs hallway.”
Sevastyan clenched his jaw to prevent from cursing his best friend, though the lucky bastard deserved a good ass-kicking at the very least. “Any luck with the number on the matchbook?”
Lucian rolled his shoulders and pointed back at the file. “Not yet, but you’ll find more on her, her schools, and Crowne corporate papers in the file. I’m working on the number—I have a friend who owes me a favor.”
Sevastyan nodded.
“You have an address for our little mole? Is it the same as in the file or does she go home from here to some mansion her daddy owns after slumming it as a hostess?”
“Won’t that be interesting to find out?”
And would reveal secrets he knew she didn’t want anyone discovering.
“Speaking of.” Lucian pointed over Sevastyan’s shoulder at the monitors. “Looks like we’re about to have an unwanted guest join us.”
The vein in Sevastyan’s temple throbbed from the impending headache. He reached across his desk and punched the speakerphone for security. Whether they had a mole working them or not, Rhia Crowne didn’t belong at Haven. Didn’t belong in their club or their world, and sure the hell didn’t belong shared between them.
God damn. Not her again.
Sevastyan crossed to his desk, his scowl deepening. The hunt had taken an unpredicted turn and the shit they were digging up went deeper than finding just one killer. This whole new angle left him grabbing for answers before whoever the hell stood on the other side struck again. Fire churned in his stomach at the thought his club was being used as a hunting ground for the very men they worked to take down.
If Seraphina—Rhia, he corrected himself—had dirty hands, he’d personally see she joined his brother in the graveyard.
His gut churned with the possible meaning behind Crowne’s daughter being at his club. What it meant for his men. None of it any good. She’d stood in the middle of his office and lied to his face. That took balls the size of King Kong. Part of him wanted to admire her, but the other half fumed for being taken by her beauty instead of keeping his focus.
Sevastyan needed answers. He wanted the real dirt. On her and her brothers. How deep the family dynamics ran and who was involved? In the meantime, it was time to pull the enemy close and let her carry out her ruse until she tipped her hand.
On some level he understood her angle; even the lies didn’t bother him. What dug under his skin and left him gnashing his teeth was the fact she considered herself safe when she was anything but.
Rage folded around him. It was one thing to lie to him, a whole other game entirely to think she would get away with it. And he looked forward to the creative punishments coming her way.