“Okay, spill. What. Is. Happening?” Corbin repeats, and I start talking, able to form words now that we’re speeding toward the love of my life.
“Backstory. Twenty-four years ago, the girl I was going to marry, Shelly, was raped at a party. The fucker got off with probation, the judge deciding he was too young to be sent to jail for the crime. Long story short, she ended her own life, setting the course for the rest of mine.” I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn my head to the left to see it’s Brian’s. Everyone in the car murmurs their condolences, but I continue on. “Astrid now has this makeup artist job at the strip club Brian had under surveillance. Before he even knew what was going on there, he had suspicions about it. It turns out it’s a modern-day brothel. And the owner of the fucking place is none other than Elias Randolph—aka Randy these days, apparently—who raped Shelly all those years ago.”
“Fuuuck,” Corbin growls, and I snort.
“You don’t know the half of it. The body of a missing woman, the former makeup artist at A Secret who had supposedly been found safe in another state, was discovered in the woods earlier today. Heather here bravely came to tell us the entire story. It is suspected that Randy killed her during their night together. He’s known for forcing the women to sleep with him and calls it square because he pays them. Seth says the field coroner reported the cause of death was most likely strangulation, which goes along with what Heather said. She told us the woman’s lifeless body was carried out the back door naked but with something around her throat,” I explain.
“Which they must’ve removed before dumping her, because there wasn’t anything in the report about a weapon used,” Seth adds.
“Your text said we have to go get Astrid 911,” Brian finally speaks, ever the quiet one who takes in all the information before making a statement.
I quickly explain all the details about the levels of the strip club, Crystal, the referral contest, her recognizing Astrid from their barre class, and how she was going to talk her into dancing for the extra cash. “And then Astrid sent me texts earlier when my phone was dead saying she was going to dance for one hour in the nightclub section. Heather says Crystal will have to prove she won the referral money by showing Randy that Astrid is in fact dancing in the club. We can’t let that happen. The fucker is a goddamn rapist for sure, and a suspected murderer who is known for ‘disappearing’ women who tell him no. I don’t want him to even lay eyes on my woman. I will not let him take another woman I love away from me. Never again. Even if I have to kill him myself with my bare hands,” I growl, my hands shaking as my control starts to slip.
A hand grips my shoulder again, and then one on the back of my neck. “That’s not going to happen, Doc. We’ve got you. And we’re not going to let anyone hurt Astrid. None of us will. We all love her, and there’s no fucking way we’ll let anything get in the way of you finally finding your happiness,” Corbin says adamantly, and I feel choked up as the hands let me go.
“I’ve already found my happiness,” I murmur. “We can’t let him take it away when I just fucking got her.”
“So what’s the plan?” Brian prompts.
I shake my head. “We haven’t gotten there yet.”
“Speak for yourself, bro,” Seth says, his face now buried in his laptop he pulled from his bag he grabbed on the way out the door, and I’ve never been more grateful for his prodigal brain in all the years I’ve known him. “The lovely Heather here is going to enter through the gate and park in the employee lot, pointing out which door of this monstrosity is the one closest to the girls’ dressing room. She’s gonna go in like she normally would, and if anyone stops to question her, she’ll make up an excuse about how she was just running late but was there to work. After making her way to the dressing room, she’s going to let us in through the door she pointed out, and first and foremost, we’re going to find Astrid.”
I nod, agreeing with that plan. “Hopefully that’ll be the end of it. We’ll