“A bit,” I said. “You?”

“You could say that.” He stuck out his hand to shake. “I’m Tom Cray,” he said, which wasn’t exactly news to me since I’d known Tom almost my entire life. He’d worked under my father in the Indianapolis field office of the FBI before moving to Chicago. I’d given his office a call when I’d arrived in town two days ago, but apparently he’d moved on, and was now among the big shots in D.C.

“Sloane O’Dell,” I said, and saw understanding in his eyes.

We’d been moving as we spoke, casually stepping away from the bar and away from other people and prying ears. “You’re on the job,” he said, his words reminding me that I hadn’t come to Chicago to get knotted up about a guy. I’d come to find Amy, and I needed get my damn hormones under control.

“Not officially. One of my CIs back home had a friend go missing. Since I’m riding out the last of my medical leave, I thought I’d help her out.”

“Medical?” he asked with paternal concern.

“No permanent damage,” I said, my hand automatically going to my left hip. “Took a bullet, but it’s healing up nicely. Aches a bit at the end of a long day, but I can handle it.” It ached now, and the ridiculous shoes I’d put on for this shindig didn’t help. Not that I shared that little fashion tidbit with Tom.

“And your partner? Hernandez, right?”

“I forgot you two had met. Bastard bailed on me,” I said, but I was grinning.

“Finally retired?”

“Meredith freaked when I got shot,” I said, referring to my partner’s wife. “Said I was young and could take it, but at his age, he’d be laid up, incapacitated, maybe even dead if he got one of those nasty superbugs that you read about infesting hospitals. Meredith’s a bit of a worrier and a lot of hypochondriac. Not great for a cop’s wife. But he was ready. They moved to Wisconsin. An old Victorian she inherited a few years ago. They’ve kept it as a rental, but I think Hernandez is planning to spend a lot of time fixing it up.” I shrugged. “I’d go out of my mind, but I think he’s pretty happy with the plan.”

“So who’s filling his shoes?”

“No one yet. Captain said he’d make assignments when I got off medical.”

The corner of his eyes crinkled. “And I can see you’re doing your best to rest and recuperate.”

I rolled my eyes. “Damn doctors. I’m perfectly fine, but they insisted I take another ten days. So I’m working off book.”

He glanced around the ornate room. “And you think this missing girl might be hiding among the fancy dresses and bottles of champagne?”

“Unfortunately, she’s not making it that easy for me. She was an exotic dancer,” I added, and when his eyes flicked toward Evan Black, I knew he understood the connection.

“You’re thinking the knights might know something about her disappearance?”

“You mean Black, Sharp, and August? Yeah, maybe. Them or someone who works at Destiny. At the very least it’s a starting point.” I glanced across the room at Tyler. “You called them the knights?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets. “From what I understand, Howard Jahn gave them the nickname, and it stuck. You’re familiar with Jahn, I assume?”

“Sure.” It was no secret that Tyler Sharp, Cole August, and Evan Black had been mentored by the late Howard Jahn, one of Chicago’s most revered entrepreneurs.

That relationship, actually, made me wonder about Kevin’s suspicions regarding the three men. I’d done my research, and Howard Jahn had a pristine record and had left a stunning legacy that included a charitable foundation and an endowed chair at the business school at Northwestern. If Sharp, August, and Black were as dirty as Kevin said they were, would Jahn really have associated with them?

I didn’t know. But I intended to find out.

“So that’s why I’m here,” I said to Tom. “What’s your story? Something going down I should know about?”

“I’m here entirely unofficially. I’ve known Angelina’s father—the senator—for years, and I saw her quite a bit when she was dating Kevin. I even know the groom, too. I met him a few months ago through some task force business.”

“Wait, back up. Are you talking about Kevin Warner? He dated Angelina? Why isn’t he here?”

“Not the best of breakups. I think the fact that he tried to nail Angie’s fiancé for Mann Act violations rubbed her the wrong way.”

“I guess it would,” I said, even as the low buzz of anger built in my belly. I worked hard to keep my expression bland and my voice casual. “Question for you—I know you may not be able to tell me much, but just how dirty do you think those three are? I know they got immunity on the Mann Act violations when that whole task force sting went down, but …”

“My take? Usually I think that where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” he said, echoing my thoughts about guilt and immunity deals. “But one thing gives me pause about those three, and that’s Senator Raine.”

“What do you mean?”

“He oversaw the Mann Act task force, so I imagine he knows as much about those men as anyone, at least as it goes to the trafficking allegations. Seems to me, he must think they’re clean. If he didn’t,” he added, with a nod toward Angelina, “I doubt this marriage would be going forward.”

The man had a point. “Kevin seems convinced they’re getting away with all sorts of shit.”

Tom’s mouth curved into a frown. “Kevin may have his own ax to grind,” Tom said. “Still, I think it’s a fair bet those boys have played in the wrong sandbox a time or two. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

“Hear what?” I asked, innocently even as I tried to order my thoughts. I didn’t know what Kevin’s agenda was, but I was certain he had one, and I had no intention of being used as his tool.

“I’m going to go say hello to the bride,” Tom said. “I’m only in town for the day, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call my office in D.C.”

“Appreciate it,” I said, though I’ll admit I was a little distracted. Both by the sudden burst of anger at Kevin, and by my general cluelessness at how to exploit that heat I’d seen burning in Tyler’s eyes. What I wanted to do was shove the bimbo out of the way, and take my place at Tyler’s side. But even if I could manage that without getting my face slashed in a catfight, that wasn’t the route I wanted to take. Right now, I had the upper hand. Succumb to desire and go to him, and I lost that advantage.

No, I wanted him to come to me. I just wasn’t sure how to entice him to do that.

And then it hit me.

“Tom!” I blurted. “Mr. Cray!”

He’d only gone a few steps, and now he turned back, his brow furrowed in question.

“Now that you mention it,” I said, “there’s something you can do for me right now.”

Thirty minutes later, I was on the dance floor in the arms of Murray Donovan, a reporter who Tom happened to know had hassled some of the girls at Destiny and pissed off all the knights. Considering everything that Kevin had told me, that made Murray either a very brave man or an idiot for coming tonight.

Idiot though he might be, he was perfect for my purposes.

He was actually the second guy I’d sought out from Tom’s list of potentials, the first being a real estate broker named Reggie from whom I’d disentangled myself after only five minutes. He held me too tight on the dance floor and, frankly, it was a toss-up which was more annoying—the way the beer on his breath mixed with the prime rib and asparagus he’d obviously enjoyed from the buffet, or the manner in which he pinched my ass.

Murray, at least, wasn’t a pincher. But even that small blessing soon faded under the weight of his inane and ill-advised comments about women in general. And the girls at Destiny in particular.

“I’m just saying it made no sense to me,” he said, referring to the way the girls had not only refused his repeated hounding for interviews, but had gotten the knights involved to end the harassment.