By the time the sky had fully surrendered to night, Ace Kane was already seated in the passenger side of Lora Hale’s Audi R8, the engine humming with a restrained aggression as the car slipped through the city streets toward John Larson’s private hotel.
To be fair, John Larson’s establishment enjoyed a certain reputation in Crown City. It wasn’t a five-star luxury landmark that dominated travel magazines, nor did it boast the scale or polish of international hotel chains. Yet among people who truly knew how to host a discreet gathering, it had long been regarded as a hidden favorite.
The moment Ace Kane stepped inside the lobby, he understood why.
Against the far wall stood an enormous glass tank, illuminated from above. Inside it swam live groupers, red coral trout, and even king crab—
