Knowing she had no choice but to continue, she took a deep breath. Her words came out in a rush. "Unless he's involved, somehow."

Max snorted with laughter. "Is that the best you can do? Surely, you know who Rutledge is?"

Savannah flushed in annoyance. "Of course I know who he is! But so what? It wouldn't be the first time someone rich and influential has broken the law and it would certainly explain his interest in the story."

"True, but we're talking about Will Rutledge here. He's hardly your ordinary rich guy. He's involved in a host of charitable projects around the city, donates thousands of dollars each year to drug rehabilitation centers and halfway houses... You do know his brother died of a drug overdose, don't you?"

Surprise surged through her accompanied by a twinge of sympathy. Pushing them aside, she shook her head.

"No, I didn't, but that doesn't mean he's not involved in the illegal drug trade on some other level. I'm not suggesting he's a drug user, but-"

"Whoa, Savannah! My, you do have an active little imagination."

Savannah gritted her teeth at his condescending tone and forced herself to remain silent.

"You didn't make mention of this in the article. I take it you don't have any proof?" Max asked.

She hesitated. If she was honest, she didn't really know what she had. Yes, she'd seen Will at the brothel, and yes, he'd made a pretty d.a.m.ning remark about having a history with the owner, but none of that could be called evidence.

"No, but I-I saw him there..."

Max leaned forward in his chair and pinned her with his gaze. "You saw him at the Black Opal? When?"

"L-last Sat.u.r.day night. The night I spoke to the women."

"What was he doing?"

Savannah shrugged and did her best to back-pedal. She really had no idea what she'd seen or what Will had meant.

"I-I don't know. He was just there."

Max turned his head and stared at the wall near his desk. A long moment later, he drew in a deep breath and turned back to her.

"Savannah, I suggest you listen and listen well. Rutledge Advertising is one of this paper's biggest clients. The money they spend on advertising every year is enough to pay the annual salaries of at least a quarter of your colleagues. I'm not going to have that jeopardized by some half-c.o.c.ked theory about what Will Rutledge may or may not do in his spare time. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Savannah gaped in shock. "Are-are you telling me you want me to drop a story because it might offend Will Rutledge?"

Menace glimmered in Max's eyes. A shiver of unease ran down her spine. A moment later, his face was wreathed in smiles and she wondered if she'd imagined it.

"Savannah, Savannah, Savannah. You're taking this much too seriously. It's like I've already told you. There are a lot of other brothels in this city. Go and investigate one of them. The fact is, it appears young Rutledge likes the Black Opal. It is the city's most exclusive establishment. It makes sense it's where a man of his social standing would choose to go to...relax."

His expression was full of innuendo. Savannah suppressed a shudder of distaste. Max continued, undeterred.

"It's not a crime for a man to frequent a brothel. I've been in one or two myself. That hardly makes me a criminal, or a drug dealer, or whatever other fanciful ideas you have running around in that pretty little head of yours."

Swift anger heated her blood. She'd had enough of Max's insults. If he wasn't the editor of the city's largest paper and if she didn't need the money quite so badly, she'd tell him where to stick his att.i.tude. And his job. She could almost hear her mother's voice in her ear, encouraging her to do just that.

As if sensing he might have pushed her too far, Max offered a conciliatory smile. "From what you've said, you don't have time to discuss the whys and wherefores of these men and their secret pleasures. Why don't you get back to work and make sure you have something ready for me by Thursday?"

Savannah bit down on her anger and turned away. Fumbling with the doork.n.o.b, she finally managed to open it. She stumbled, dazed, toward her desk.

What the h.e.l.l was that all about?

Granted, the newspaper would lose a great deal of money if Rutledge Advertising pulled their campaign, but surely a man in Max's position couldn't be bought? Not running another story on the Black Opal in order to appease a favored client was tantamount to bribery.

Savannah's temper flared again. It wasn't right for Max to make such a request. So what if he was the editor? Surely they had a responsibility to inform the public about these kinds of things? If Will was involved in criminal activities, it was only right that he be exposed. If he had nothing to hide, then he had nothing to fear.

What Max had said about the other brothels in the city was probably true, but she'd promised Malee she'd do all she could to get the Black Opal shut down. The girls were s.e.x slaves and people like Vince Maranoa, and maybe even Will Rutledge, were getting rich from it. She wasn't going to stand by and let it keep happening. Job be d.a.m.ned, she was more determined than ever to return.

Her mother would be proud.

With fingers that were far from steady, Max reached for his phone and dialed Vince's number. Max would never admit it, but Vince scared the s.h.i.t out of him. Always had.

Savannah's revelation that Will Rutledge had been at the Black Opal on top of the man's obvious interest in yesterday's story weighed heavily on his mind. It could be simply a coincidence, but what if it wasn't?

The young Rutledge was known as a man about town, a playboy with access to more money than sense. It was ludicrous to suggest he could be involved in a police sting, but still, it paid to be sure. Max hadn't come this far without being careful.

Vince answered with his customary brusqueness. "Yeah?"

"It's-it's me. I-I was wondering what you knew about Will Rutledge?"

"Robert's son?"

"Yeah. I met with him a little while ago about an advertising package and he expressed more than a little interest in the story we ran on the brothel. I've just discovered he was at the Black Opal last weekend."

"How good's your information?"

"Reliable."

Vince puffed out his breath on the other end of the phone. "Robert's been a member of the club for years. He's a regular who's more than happy to pay generously for the services we provide. I don't know much about his young whelp. Let's just say the boy's never come to my attention."

Max's shoulders slumped in relief. "That's good to hear. I-I just wondered. You know, with him being so curious and all..."

"I'll ask around. See what I can find out. You never can be too careful."

"My thoughts exactly."

The afternoon sun reflected off the tall gla.s.sed buildings that surrounded the offices of Rutledge Advertising in sparkles of white light so bright it hurt Will's eyes. Grateful for the protection of his Ray Bans, he strode to the parking station where he'd left his unmarked police vehicle. Along the way, he tugged out his phone and dialed Pete's number.

"Will, how did it go with the editor? I take it you got a name?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." Will paused, still a little hesitant to tell him.

"So, who is it?" Exasperation tinged Pete's voice.

Biting the bullet, he laid it on the line. "It was Savannah."

"I'm going to kill her."

"Max O'Connor seemed only too pleased to tell me." Will frowned. "Not that I think he was lying, but there's something about him I don't trust."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought it would be more difficult to get the information out of him. It could have been the money talking, but that doesn't explain the rest of it."

"What do you mean?"

Will drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "This guy's the editor of the city's largest newspaper, right? What do you think he'd be earning?"

"Oh, I don't know, a hundred grand a year, something like that, I guess."

"Yeah, that's what I figured, but he came into my office wearing a five thousand dollar suit. His briefcase probably cost another couple of grand and he wouldn't have gotten change out of a thousand bucks for his shoes. How does an editor, on a hundred grand a year, afford to dress like that?"

"It does sound a little odd. I guess, he could have married into money, or inherited it. What's your take on it?"

"I don't know, but it got my antennae up. I've learned to pay attention when that happens."

"I'll get one of the general duties boys to look into it, see what they can dig up. It would be nice to know there's an innocent explanation."

"Yeah." Will arrived at his destination and unlocked his car. "Oh, speaking of digging up, I'm returning to the Black Opal tonight to do a little more reconnaissance. With a bit of luck, I might run into Maranoa. I should be cleared to visit the Room of Dreams by now."

Pete murmured his a.s.sent. "Just watch your back. You never know when your cover might be blown. All it will take is for someone who knows you're a cop to recognize you and you're going to be in a world of hurt. Even with your backup, there's no guarantee they would get to you in time."

"Who's rostered on with me?"

"I'll arrange for Baines and Michaels to be there. They can pose as out-of-town businessmen. Provided they can get past security, I'll have them situated somewhere in the main bar. If they're turned away at the door, they'll be outside in the nearby vicinity."

"Good. Let's hope our luck holds."

"What about this s.e.x slave thing Savannah mentioned? Do you have any information about that?"

"No, I didn't get a chance to speak to any of the girls there, other than Savannah. I noticed that all the rest were Asian, though. That's a little strange in itself, although that doesn't mean they're being held illegally."

"I'll find out if anyone in Central Division is looking into it. Maybe there's a taskforce already working on it. If Savannah's found out about it, I'd like to think someone in law enforcement knows."

Will smiled into the phone. "You'd hope so. If I get a chance, I'll speak to some of the girls tonight. Savannah must have obtained her information from someone."

Pete's voice filled with disbelief. "I still can't believe she did it."

"You and me both."

"I meant what I said, Will. You be careful tonight, okay?"

He laughed. "I'm always careful, boss. I might not be good, but I'm always careful."

Vince pinched his chin in thought and then pushed away from his desk. Opening the door to his office, he stuck his head out into the corridor.

"Billy, get your a.s.s in here now," he yelled. "I want to talk to you."

The Kid sauntered into the room and flung himself down in the only other available chair. If anyone else had approached Vince with such a cavalier att.i.tude, he'd have had their b.a.l.l.s, but he liked the Kid and the boy had proved useful on more than one occasion.

"What is it, boss?"

"I've got a job for you."

"Yeah?"

"I want you to pay particular attention to one of our patrons. As far as I know, he's not a regular, so I can't tell you when he might show up again, but when he does, I want you to take notice."

Billy showed only slightly more interest. "Who is it?"

"His name's Will Rutledge. He's Robert's son."

"The advertising bloke?"

"Yeah, the one who comes in every Friday night and asks for Polly. He's a handsome tipper." Vince's lips twisted wryly. "I'm sure you know him."

Billy nodded. "Yeah, big old guy, white hair. Always has a Cuban with his scotch."

"That's the one. I've got no issue with him, so leave him out of it. It's his son who's caught my interest."

Billy sat forward, curiosity now plain on his face. "Why's that?"

"Never you mind. What I want you to do is keep an eye on him. He was here on Sat.u.r.day night. He asked Georgie to get him approved for the Room of Dreams. I've given him the go ahead. If he gets on the gear, or even if he just wants a f.u.c.k, I want you to be there watching, you understand?"

"Yeah, sure. I can do that. How will I know what he looks like?"

Vince pulled open the drawer of his desk and handed Billy a sheaf of papers. "Here. I got these off the Internet. Lucky for you, our boy's popular with the paparazzi. Take a good look at 'em."

Billy leaned over the desk and studied the photographs and then shook his head in annoyance.

"f.u.c.k, Vince. He looks just like all the other rich a.s.sholes that frequent this place. How the f.u.c.k am I supposed to know it's him?"

Vince narrowed his gaze on Billy. "Those rich a.s.sholes keep you and me in business, Billy. Don't forget it. And you'll f.u.c.kin' memorize those pictures until you can pick him out of a fifty-man lineup. Understand?"

Billy nodded.

"Good. You'll work it out, Kid. You can never be too careful. It's as simple as that. I like to call it insurance. You just don't know when you're gonna need it."