Chapter 16
MAX
Bancroft’s face speaks volumes.
Shame and anger burn red in his cheeks, his jaw and lips trembling as he pores over the photos of him, Delia, and Asher.
There was no point in showing him the ones with us and Raina, but I made sure to tell him we were also captured in compromising positions, if only to keep a certain sense of camaraderie in our shared victimhood.
“This is unconscionable,” he says, leaning back in his wingback chair.
We’re in the reading room behind closed doors. Alex and Vincent are out dealing with this mess, each in his own way, while Asher and Delia were given the day off to give Bancroft some privacy and enough time to digest everything.
“I completely agree,” I tell him.
The flames roar in the fireplace, casting an orange light over his pale face. “And this is all you received, I mean, along with the photos of you and your partners?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And no ransom demand, no phone call or email? Nothing else in the mail?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. We checked every single mailbox registered in our names and our companies’ names.”
“How long has it been since you came into their possession?” Bancroft asks, and I realize his legal wheels are already spinning in his mind.
Checking my watch, I’m pleased to have an accurate answer for him. “Almost six hours ago, on the dot.”
“They’ll probably wait twenty-four hours before another communication,” he grumbles, visibly disgusted. “They want us stewing in our own juices, wondering who sent the photos, who took them, what they might want. They’re working an angle, and the suspense is key.”
I pour him another double scotch and watch him chug it like it’s nothing but flavored water, then pour a third.
“Have you dealt with anything like this before?” Bancroft asks.
“Nothing like this,” I admit. “I was a sniper with the Rangers, Mr. Bancroft. The only thing I’m familiar with is the quality of the lens used to capture the images. That’s it. You?”
“No one has ever tried to blackmail you or Alex or Vincent over Haus of Sin? Really?”
I shake my head again and smile. “No, sir. We run a tight ship here. Invitation-only. There would be horrific legal repercussions if any NDA is broken. A couple of years ago, a former hostess tried to go public to score a book deal for herself, but we have friends and allies in pretty much every industry, including publishing. We shut that down before she could even send in her book blurb to an interested agent.”
“It’s impressive, given the type of business you run here. Congratulations, Max.”
“I guess our lucky streak has ended here.”
“No, not necessarily, not if we nip this in the bud. You asked, and I’ll answer.
I’ve dealt with blackmailers and extortionists before,” Bancroft says.
“I was never the target, mind you, but I had clients in hot water. I didn’t lose any of them to any of the demands, no matter how ludicrous or how grave the repercussions. ”
“Alright, then what do you think we should do next?”
He taps his chin, gazing at me with a curious gleam in his eyes. “The lady you were photographed with; does she know?”
“No.”
“Do you think she might’ve had something to do with this?”
“Not in a million years, no, sir.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod vehemently. “She’s a good woman. The purest I’ve ever met. Kind, devoted, spirited. She’d never do something like this—never.”
“Then it’s someone in your close circle, or mine, and you run the risk of being collateral damage.”
“Or you’re the collateral damage, if we’re the target.”
Bancroft chuckles dryly. “I think this is precisely what they wanted: confusion, multiple possibilities, ways to keep our minds busy, unable to focus on one or the other. They’re smart, but they’re not geniuses. They made a mistake somewhere. What about prints?”
“Our Portland PD buddy is looking into it.” I pause when I see the alarm bells blaring in his wide, blue eyes. “He’s loyal and discreet, sir. Our secret is safe with him, I assure you.”
“You might get lucky. What about the courier service?”
I frown. “We didn’t look into that.”
“You should— just in case.”
My fingers are already texting a new set of instructions for the head of our security team with precisely this detail. We need to figure out what courier company was used and do a reverse search, if possible.
“It might lead you nowhere, but it’s still worth a shot,” Bancroft says. “Now tell me about your inner circle. The people here: staff, hosts, hostesses.”
I need a moment to think about it, but nothing out of the ordinary comes to mind.
“Like I said, we run a tight ship. As you know, there’s no cell phone reception here, only our secure Wi-Fi network.
To keep Haus of Sin completely private, we installed a cell jammer to cover the entire property’s radius. ”
“Hence, the reason we don’t get a signal here, only online stuff once we’re connected to your network,” Bancroft says. “I actually found that odd at first, but since I was able to conduct my business over Zoom and all those other online platforms, I didn’t give it a second thought.”
“FaceTime, Whatsapp, Zoom, they all work seamlessly. It’s Wi-Fi-enabled. The network is highly secure, and we checked; no breaches whatsoever.”
“So you can monitor your staff’s communications, if you have to?”
“It would be an egregious breach of their privacy, but yes. I like to believe that once they’re told about the secure Wi-Fi, any thought of profiting from Haus of Sin outside of their contractual obligations would wither away,” I tell him, “a preemptive strike of sorts.”
“And what if one of them is responsible for this?”
I exhale sharply, unable to truly fathom the possibility. “We vetted each of our employees thoroughly. None of our hosts has issues. The service staff is also clean.”
“Nevertheless, you should do a thorough check of their smartphones. You never know.” He frowns slightly. “I’ll do the same with all of my firm’s employees.”
I sound surprised. “You think one of yours might’ve done this?”
Bancroft shrugs and shakes his head again. “I don’t know, Max. I wouldn’t put it past them. I run a law firm, remember? Many of them are young sharks, easily emboldened if they taste blood in the water.”
“Like Jeremy?”
His name had crossed my mind before. Bancroft might be able to shed some light where that prick is concerned, and judging by his visible disdain, he doesn’t like Jeremy much either.
“Don’t get me started with that fool. His razzle-dazzle impressed me at first,” he says, lips twisted in disappointment. “As soon as he became a senior associate, however, it’s like a switch got flipped.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t get me wrong. Jeremy Copeland is a good lawyer with excellent knowledge of corporate and financial legalese, but he’s a hedonist. He loves booze and parties with a little too much magical white powder, and it’s wearing him down.
He’s actually on his way out of my firm. I just haven’t told him yet.”
My eyebrows arch with shock. “Seriously? It’s that bad?”
“He lost a couple of important cases that he should’ve won.
His focus isn’t what it used to be anymore, and it’s not my job to handhold a grown-ass man with a law degree.
You either adapt, or you die. There’s no room for weaklings in my firm.
” He pauses and frowns slightly. “How do you know Jeremy?”
“He’s acquainted with a friend of ours,” I reply with a flat smile. “I met him in passing. I didn’t think much of him.”
“I don’t trust him,” Bancroft mutters. “I don’t know what happened to him over the past couple of months, but it’s had an impact on his performance in court.”
“Do you think he’s capable of something like this?” I ask, pointing at the photos again, and he takes a moment to think about it.
“I wouldn’t put it past him. He wouldn’t dare, unless he knows I’m considering terminating him. But I’ve kept a lid on that, so the odds are slim.”
Slim, but not impossible, which means I can’t fully eliminate Jeremy as a suspect. We do need to hear from the sender, however, to get a better understanding of their angle and their intentions. Bancroft is right about one thing—this silence is on purpose.
“We’ll handle this,” I tell Bancroft. “That, I can promise you.”
“Oh, I know you’ll handle this. Because if this goes public, it’s not just me who’s screwed,” he says, leaving the unsaid hanging heavily in the air between us.