Winn finally gave up. His search had stretched into late night. He hated giving up—especially when it came to Sylvia—but exhaustion gnawed at him, and he wasn't thinking straight anymore.
He would put a call through to his detective acquaintance in the morning, someone discreet enough to track down his wayward sister without making headlines. Right now, his body demanded rest.
He had already spent half the previous night at Commissioned. Sleep had been a stranger ever since.
As soon as Winn pulled into the wide stone driveway of his Tribeca estate, one of his security guards approached. "Sir… your sister is in the house."
"What the fuck?!" Winn's reaction was instant, a violent cocktail of shock, anger, and—underneath it all—trepidation. His stomach dropped. His mind flashed instantly to the one thing he should've locked down tighter than the Pentagon—his bar.
