As the hours slowly ticked by, Trevor found himself lost in drink and observation. He

had switched over to brandy after watching the dance of the woman called Undina. He could

not help but notice when she re-emerged from backstage and seated herself in an isolated

corner of the club. In order to quell his natural desire to go over and speak with her, he had

taken to carefully monitoring the way his crew members were interacting with the various

women in the club.

The captain’s younger brother, Callen Murrey, had already guzzled down far too

much beer. He was puffing out his chest and doubtlessly boasting of grand, falsified exploits to

the girls who flocked around him. Even watching his body language from across the room

made Trevor exhausted. He was fairly certain that his brother would convince one of those

girls to accompany him home at the end of the night. To Trevor’s home, anyway, where

Callen parasitically stayed.

Rolling his eyes at Callen’s behavior, he sent a fleeting curious glance in Undina’s

direction before turning back to his men.

His eyes settled on his young protégé, Aiden Hass. The boy was a college student from

New York who had grown tired of the burden of his sky-rocketing debt. He had researched the

position in which he could make the most money possible in a few short months, and here he

was, giving it his best shot. Trevor felt protective of the boy. For all his cosmopolitan

cleverness, he still had a youthful recklessness about him which was hazardous in a place like

this. Trevor wondered, as he watched a blonde seat herself on Aiden’s lap and whisper in his

ear, whether the young man really understood the danger he was facing. Not from the blonde,

who was only a danger to Aiden’s heart and bank account, but from the job.

Aiden had not actually seen Leland die. Neither had he seen the man’s body—they

had not been able to recover it. Perhaps a gruesome, visually violent death would have been

healthier for the boy’s deficient sense of caution. Then again, most young men carried

themselves about with an aura of immortality and invincibility. Trevor wondered why he had

never felt that way himself. He discreetly looked over at Undina’s corner once more. Trevor felt an inexplicable

pang of jealousy when he saw a man approaching her, and an even more peculiar pang of

pride when he observed her crossed arms and reproachful body language.

He turned back, casting his gaze on Urius—the brawny man of Inuit descent who was

always chomping on something. A cigar, a toothpick, a pen, a piece of rope. He was sitting

with Edward, the Jamaican, and the sentimental ex-marine Doughlas. For a supposed war hero

and someone who was self-proclaimed to have “seen it all,” Doughlas was not taking the

situation well. He was essentially sobbing as Edward and Urius consoled him.

Not far from those three sat the brothers from Seattle—Wyatt and Wilbert Wade. For

being such very different people, the Wade brothers were fiercely loyal and devoted to each

other, and they got along far better than Captain Murray and his own brother. Wilbert, called

“Billy” by the crew, was somewhat effeminate. He was never the butt of any jokes or teasing,

for Wyatt was extremely defensive and always joyously ready for an excuse to deploy his fists.

Trevain could not resist a small smile as he observed Billy interacting with a pretty dancer. He

was doubtlessly complimenting her clothing and sense of style and confusing the poor girl.

Again, the captain looked over at Undina. A gorgeous redhead passed close by her,

being pulled to the private dancing area by a young man. The redhead looked at the seated

dark-haired woman, and quickly made a complex hand gesture as she passed her. Undina

responded with a hand gesture of her own. Trevain frowned thoughtfully. American Sign

Language? Could one of the girls be deaf or mute?

He was positive that Undina could not be deaf—at least not completely. She had

danced too perfectly to the time of the music to be unable to hear it. Yet it was possible that

she was mute. He had not once seen her lips move in speech; those sensuous, reddened lips,

which contrasted sharply with her impressive mass of dark hair. Undina’s head turned

towards him sharply, as though she could feel his inquest. Her dark eyes locked with his

hesitantly, and he looked away in embarrassment and dismay.