There were too many secrets in the mansion.
Too many people protecting themselves at the expense of everyone else.
And somewhere beneath all that bullshit was the truth about Tucker.
Rhett reached the corridor leading to the club's interrogation rooms. Two men stood outside the final door, their leather cuts bearing the Reapers' insignia.
They moved aside when they saw him.
"How long has he been in there?" Rhett asked.
"Since your father ordered it, brother. He hasn't said much."
"Has he eaten?"
One of the men hesitated. "No, brother. He refused the sandwich Boone brought him."
Rhett's jaw tightened.
"Get him some water and something decent to eat. Whatever my father wants from him, we're not going to let the bastard pass out before he can talk."
The prospect nodded and hurried
