Page 37 of Deadly Sins

22Ksenya

AS HE HAD PROMISED, MITCH roped Grant into some kind of work emergency. Luckily for me, being a Navy SEAL BUD/S instructor was a twenty-four-hours-a-day, seven-days-a-week job.

I turned my key in the doorknob of my apartment; the place I lived in was a dump. My elderly roommate, Olga, didn’t say a word to me as she eyed me from her permanent place in front of the television. But a quick, disgusted snort told me exactly what she thought of me.

I wanted to move out, I wished I could live with Grant. Even in my current incarnation, I only truly felt safe when he was by my side. But at the moment, that was out of the question—I needed refuge to do some of my own intel, away from his glaring eye.

A perfect example was the tracking device I’d put on Mitch’s phone. I grabbed my small laptop and logged in to the private portal Roman had sent up for me. A few key swipes and I was in. Data filled the screen. I poured myself a glass of rosé and settled in to read.

At first glance, nothing stood out. A bunch of messages to his command, his friends. Hell, he even checked in with his mom. As I went back further, I saw some messages to his wife, April. Yup, they weren’t together anymore. I didn’t know if they were divorced or what, but their messages were terse. She was living back home in Las Vegas, and it looked like most of her texts to him had gone unanswered. I definitely had to investigate that further. I can’t believe she finally left him. Sure, he was a jerk. But when I’d first met them, they had been so in love. Guess they were on the 90-percent side of that SEAL divorce rate after all.

Marriage drama aside, another message stood out to me. To a Rafael. No text, just a smiley face.

Why was he sending a guy a smiley face? I was certain Rafael wasn’t a SEAL. I’d never met him, and though he could be new, the established frogmen never really hung out with the tadpoles.

Maybe I was reading something into nothing. But there were no records of any other texts or calls to this number going thirty days back. I didn’t have enough information now to draw a conclusion, but I stored my suspicion for later use.

I showered, changed, and got ready to meet Mitch. I dressed in a long silver evening gown, appropriate attire that I thought Ksenya would wear for an interview at a high-end strip club. Was Mitch setting me up? I just hoped Grant wouldn’t find out where I was or whom I was with.

I applied blood-red lipstick and stared again at this stranger in the mirror. Would I ever get used to looking like this? Once this was over, I wished I could go back to looking like me, but sadly, that wasn’t possible.

A short time later, I arrived at Diamond, set in the heart of San Diego. The view of the Coronado Bridge in the background still took my breath away every time I looked at it. That bridge had once represented everything I’d loved about San Diego—Grant, Joaquín, the Navy SEALs, the Hotel Del. Now, my eyes just filled with tears at the mere sight of the lights in the distance.

My sparkly gown glowed in the moonlight. A few men catcalled me, but I kept my gaze ahead until I heard my phone beep.

I glanced down, and my heart sank when I saw the text.

Grant: Hey babe. I miss you.

It was simple. Sweet. Not a sexual innuendo in sight. It was almost like the way he’d been back when we were dating.

But I didn’t have time to respond. Behind the shiny glass doors, Mitch awaited. And hopefully a clue to Tiffany’s killer.

The doors swung open, and before I could figure out where to go, Mitch appeared in front of me dressed in a tailored suit, his hair slicked back, his beard freshly trimmed.

I wanted to hate this man, though I had this unmistakable gut feeling that Mitch wasn’t evil. He didn’t strike me as one of those rare Navy SEALs who joined for the sole reason that he could become a legalized serial killer. Had he always been the cocky jerk I’d known over the years? Maybe his bravado was just an act he’d adopted to get through BUD/S, a shell to make him better able to perform on the job without allowing himself to feel the immense pain, physical and emotional, that being a SEAL caused.

Right now, he smelled incredible, like those chocolate after-dinner mints I loved sucking on.

“You’re so beautiful.” His hand brushed a lock of my hair out of my face. “Relax, I’ll take care of you.”

I squeezed his hand, and he placed his arm around my shoulders. For once, he wasn’t abrasive; he seemed almost comforting, warm, and, dare I say, like a gentleman. I allowed myself to see him with fresh eyes for tonight only. Maybe I’d find out why his wife had fallen in love with him.

Mitch led me down the red-carpeted hallway. I felt as if I were at a movie premiere rather than a strip club. This place was unlike any strip club I’d visited in preparation for going undercover. I thought San Francisco had some classy joints—Diamond looked like a restaurant. There was no public stage for women to dance on while men gawked at them. Girls who could’ve been mistaken for models milled around the men, who were seated in private booths or at the bar. Male waiters carried plates of expensive-looking food and bottles of vintage wine. Definitely a step up from Panthers.

Mitch sat me in a private booth. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

My lips spread into a forced smile as he turned to walk away. I scanned the club, eyeing the girls. A redhead in the corner I recognized as Emma, another stripper who’d worked at Panthers but had vanished. Last winter, she’d given me the first clue to this case—that Grant had invited the strippers to the party. A clue that broke my heart. If I’d only known, then that her words would lead me to this new life.

Across the room, I saw a blonde with a crisp bob who had to be Autumn. She hadn’t seen me yet, but I would make sure to connect with her.

Yes, this was the place to be. Had Grant ever come here? Had Joaquín?

Mitch came back to my table accompanied by a short, stocky guy, late thirties, sporting a full beard. Looked like he could be a former SEAL, but I didn’t recognize him.

“Ksenya, this is Jack. He owns the club.”

“Nice to meet together with you, Jack.” I held up my hand, and he kissed it.