“This is a long shot, but does anyone named Jack happen to work here?” “Jack St. Claire?” My heart hammers in my chest. “Yes.” “Well, he owns the place,” she replies, and my eyebrows shoot upward. He owns this club? It’s certainly not what I expected for his job, but it all makes sense. His strange work hours, his constantly being gone at night. “Do you have a meeting with him?” she asks. I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable. “I actually sort of work for him.” “Oh,” she says with a wide-eyed, knowing expression on her face. “Well, he’s probably downstairs.” “What’s downstairs?” I ask. “The
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