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“Evan”—she tilts her head away and closes her eyes—“I don’t usually talk about other clients. It’s kind of a business taboo.”

Of course that makes sense, but I don’t care.

“I want to know.” I tighten my grip on her hip, pulling her a little closer.

“I’m not going to discuss that.”

My chest tightens along with my hold on her. I’m not used to people refusing to give me the information I want, and it doesn’t sit well with me. Even when I told her to get out, she hadn’t listened. That is also a first.

It should anger me, but it doesn’t. In fact, I think I rather like her standing up to me. Paulie backs down when I tell him to, and he’s probably six-foot-four and weighs well over two hundred pounds. Alina’s maybe five-foot-five and can’t be much more than a hundred and thirty.

I consider all the wasted time I spent looking for her tonight. If she were already here, I wouldn’t have to go looking for her. I could just come home, and there she would be.

Can you put a hooker on retainer? What would that look like?

The last time I’d had a regular hooker, it was Bridgett. I don’t want to think about her because I always end up remembering the last time I saw her—the last time anyone saw her. She’d betrayed me to Rinaldo’s enemies and suffered the ultimate price. I do not handle betrayal well, and she found that out minutes before she was dead.

I focus on the time before that day, when she had been around the apartment a lot. She wanted to be around me though I never understood why. I knew she had feelings for me despite how many times I tried to deter them.

Toward the end, Bridgett had lived in my apartment. I’d killed her pimp, and she didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Even before then, I never had trouble finding her on the street. Alina must be a very popular whore.

I grit my teeth and look at her.

“Who were you fucking tonight?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alina replies.

I don’t like the way she dodges the question, and I’m certainly not going to let her get away with that shit. She looks away from me, silent. I reach over and grip her chin in my fingers before turning her to face me.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t know any names,” she finally answers.

Her face flushes slightly, and she won’t meet my eyes. I know she’s lying.

“Who’s your pimp?”

“Teto.”

I recognize the name. A while back, he worked for Greco. Teto went independent for a while but had recently joined Rinaldo’s payroll for the added protection. This is both simple and complicated because he works for Rinaldo. If he weren’t one of ours, I might have opted to just get rid of him, but now I can’t because it would interfere with Rinaldo’s business.

“Call him.”

“Call him?”

“Pick up your phone and call him now.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

She nods slightly, and I loosen my grip on her so she can roll over and reach for her purse. She retrieves an iPhone with a bright green case and pulls up Teto’s number. She hits the button and holds the phone to her ear.

“What am I supposed to tell him?” she asks as it rings.

“Tell him I want to talk to him.”

She looks at me nervously but doesn’t have time to ask any more questions.