suspect that I would try to run. I gave him a sugary smile too and he wet his lips, undeniable heat filling his gaze. Shit, too far.
I hurried out of the door, shutting it firmly behind me and heading off down the hall towards the kitchen. I was going to fill my belly so I had the energy to run a hundred miles tonight. And before dawn tomorrow, I'd be back in the arms of my warrior, and I'd never part from him again.
I couldn't help but keep glancing at my phone as I sat in the passenger seat of Frankie’s car, Mr. Sandman by SYML playing on the radio and mirroring my mood.
“You’re sure you want to do this alone?” he asked for the hundredth time, but my answer wasn’t changing.
“The message said to come alone,” I reminded him.
We’d been getting ready to head back out on our hunt this morning while Fabio tried to explain exactly why his idea to track Hernandez’s cellphone hadn’t worked out. The asshole had a masking device on it which encrypted the signal, sending it pinging off of multiple towers and making it impossible to lock onto the real location because the man never let a call go on for longer than two minutes. It was infuriating and even more concerning. The kind of people who went to those lengths to avoid being found were not the kind you wanted to meet in a darkened alleyway at night. Certainly not the kind I wanted anywhere near my girl.
But while I’d been in the middle of losing my shit and trashing Frankie’s dining room, my own phone had gotten a text. One single message which might have been exactly what I’d been hunting for dropping straight into my lap.
Unknown:
We need to talk about Sasha Hernandez. Club Vitro, ten pm. Come alone or you won’t hear from her again.
It could easily be a trap. It was also my only lead so far. So I’d sent a one word answer. Okay.
“Stay close, I’ll text you every few minutes,” I assured Frankie. “But you can’t come in."
“One of ours works the bar here anyway,” he muttered. “I made sure she was on shift tonight and she’ll keep an extra eye on you. The three of us are right here, we won’t be more than a block away at any time.”
“Just stay away unless I say otherwise,” I growled as he pulled up at the curb. “I can handle myself. I spent years doing far worse things than this alone.”
“You’ll never do anything alone again, fratello,” Enzo grunted from the back seat.
“So get used to it,” Rocco added, the tension in his posture clear. But he got it. If it was Sloan on the line, he’d risk this or far worse too. And I doubted I was walking into an ambush set up inside a heaving night club. There were far less conspicuous places available to try and kill a man.
“Thank you,” I grunted, opening the car door and stepping out.
They lingered as I strode past the long crowd, levelling a flat look at the bouncers that had them stepping aside to admit me, not even conducting a search. Which was extra helpful as I was carrying a gun and two knives. I may have been walking into this place alone, but I wasn’t dumb enough to do it unarmed.
The club was a pretty exclusive venue and I glanced around at the black and silver theme which ran through the place. The lights were low but the music was loud. I’d done my homework on this club before coming here. The DJ currently playing music from her podium was pretty famous and the dance floor which was thick with writhing bodies said she was pretty good too. The bar stood to the right of the space, lit in sapphire blue with the staff putting on a show of mixing cocktails flamboyantly.
The VIP area was to my left, booths with supple navy seating laid out with a view over the dance floor filled with assholes who had more time on their hands than sense for what to do with their money. I’d studied the layout before coming here; there were two exits out the back plus a store room beyond the kitchens with windows I could smash if I really got desperate. I always liked to have an escape plan or two up my sleeve.
“Mr Romero?” A leggy blonde hostess in a dress short enough to flash her panties