“Did they die?” she asked, horrified.

“One died. The other girl lived. Lived and worked for me for a few months.”

“Sam?”

“She told me what happened to her at that camp. I spoke to some others who’d gone to his camps. They confirmed everything she said. There’s a thirty-two-year-old man in Queens who still has the burn scars from the electrodes on his testicles.”

Maggie winced. Once Kingsley had realized Sam had betrayed him, he’d begun doubting everything she’d told him. But when it came to the camps, she’d been telling the truth. The man with the burns hadn’t wanted to talk to him at first, not until Kingsley promised him that he’d do everything he could to keep Fuller from opening a church in the city. Kingsley had found him through a lawsuit he’d filed against Fuller and the church seeking restitution for his massive therapy and medical bills. The man hadn’t had sex in five years because he couldn’t bear to let anyone see the burns on his genitals.

“He’s not a man of God,” Kingsley said. “I know a man of God, and that man of God makes me think God might be on our side. But Fuller, he’s a demagogue. And he’s dangerous. And I don’t want him in my town.”

“I get it,” Maggie said. “I can’t say I want him or his church in my town, either.”

“What about Irina?”

“They’ve ‘lost’ her paperwork. INS is as bad as the health department. Someone deep in the works is throwing a wrench into everything I try to do.”

“You got her out of jail. That was a good start.”

“Getting the charges dropped again was easy. They don’t have any evidence. Keeping her from being sent back to Russia will be the hard part. Especially since she’d been twice arrested. She doesn’t make a very sympathetic case.”

“Her husband bought her, abused her, and she put eye drops in his drink so he’d be too ill to rape her one night and that’s not sympathetic?”

“He was never charged for anything. She was. You know how the world works, King.”

“I know. I don’t want to know, but I know.” He made a decision then and there, and he spoke it aloud before he lost his courage. “I can’t let Irina be deported. I’ll call Fuller. I’ll tell him I give up. He wins. I lose.”

“Are you sure?” Maggie asked.

He wasn’t, but he didn’t know what else to do. He could survive without the Möbius. He would beat any charges brought against him for tax code violations. But he’d made Irina a promise to take care of her, and he would keep it.

“I’m sure,” he said. He sat back and put his boot on the chair across from him.

Then he kicked the chair so hard it flew ten feet across the floor.

“Kingsley.”

He raised his hand to silence her. Maggie looked at him with compassion but said nothing.

“The club, it would have been something special, Mags. You would have loved it there. The Renaissance, it was perfect for it. I’ve never wanted a place so much in my life. That club was my baby.”

“You can still build it. We’ll find somewhere else for you. I’ll help you any way I can.”

Kingsley gave her a tired smile. It was a relief in a way, letting his dream die. He had all the money he’d ever need, all the lovers any man could want... It was fine. Time to move on. Sam had turned on him and he’d been too hurt to even ask her why. Whatever her reasons, he wasn’t going to start a fight with her over it. No more causalities. The war was over.

And yet...

“I’m sorry, King,” Maggie said, squeezing his hands. “I know surrender isn’t your forte.”

“If it was only me, I’d fight to the bitter end.”

“I know you would. And I think a few years ago you would have kept fighting anyway, collateral damage be damned. You’re getting noble in your old age.”

“I’m twenty-eight. Same age as your boy-toy.”

“Daniel’s not my toy. I’m his.” Maggie flashed him a seductive grin as she gathered her things again.

“I’ll never forgive you for getting married.”

“I didn’t ask for your forgiveness.” She stood up, bent over and gave him the quickest of kisses on the lips. “I’ll contact Fuller’s attorney for you. You stay away from the man. No more antagonizing him.”

“You’re enjoying telling me what to do, aren’t you?”

“Remember that night you made me suck your cock for two straight hours?”

“That was as much work for me as it was for you.”

“Go home,” Maggie said. “I’ll call you when it’s all taken care of.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Kingsley said, leaning his head back and running his fingers through his hair in exhaustion.

“Last call,” Maggie said at the door. She pointed to the closed sign. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

She gave him a wink and walked out. He hadn’t been kidding. As much as he loved Chez Kingsley, he was far too restless and worried to go home and sit waiting for Maggie to call him. He didn’t want to go home. And he didn’t want to be alone. And he didn’t want to be sober another second.

He reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He sat it on the counter in front of him. If he closed his eyes he could picture Sam standing behind the bar, the bottle in her hand, flipping and catching it. He didn’t want to drink the Jack. He wanted to inhale it, every drop until his heart stopped beating and his brain stopped thinking. And yet in the back of his mind he could hear Søren’s voice.