His stomach churned, and he pulled his phone out and called her. It rang three times before he went to voicemail. His body tensed.
Augusta wouldn’t just leave the car, not after everything they just went through. She would have waited, or she would have called if she needed to do something. She wouldn’t have just left without telling him.
Which meant she didn’t have a choice. Someone forced her to leave the car, and it angered him.
Ray was ready to rip the entire town apart piece by piece, but he knew he didn’t have that kind of time. Whoever was in the photo took her, and they were going to get rid of her. He needed to think logically about this. She didn’t have long. Who was next on their list to talk to?
Ray climbed into his car and drove like a madman across the town. He ran red lights and didn’t stop at stop signs. He didn’t give a shit.
If you would pull your head out of your ass and let me take over, I could find her scent in no time and lead us to where she is being kept.
He barely stopped outside his condo, nearly tearing the door off the hinges as he flew inside to hide the negative. He didn’t want it to be caught on his person or lose it if he needed to shift. It would throw away everything he’d been working for.
Moving as fast as he could, he was back in his car within minutes. When his foot hit the gas pedal, there would be nothing slowing him down again. His mind was focused entirely on getting to the Lombardi lounge.
He pulled to a rough stop at the door where two guards stood. They looked at him with angry expressions and held their ground. Ray didn’t expect it to last long.
He climbed out of his car. “Where is she?” he snarled, slamming his door shut.
The two guards just watched him, and Ray wasn’t wasting any more time. He walked up and grabbed one of them by the neck, shoving his head back into a pole. The other moved quickly, but Ray was faster. He grabbed him and threw him to the ground.
“Where is she?” he asked again, a little louder this time. “Answer me before I break both of your fucking noses.”
“Who are you talking about?” the guy yelled. “We don’t have anyone.”
Ray growled, stepping toward him. He punched the guy square in the face. He heard a crunch, and the guy cried out as Ray broke his nose.
He turned to the other, ready to tackle him, but the guy backed up and pointed inside.
Ray turned, storming in. A group of people stood by the bar. They were enjoying a relaxing time with some drinks. Three gals and four men looked up and scowled. “The bar is closed. Come back another day.”
“Where is she?” he snipped, looking around. This place was too calm for Augusta to be here. But he couldn’t take things at face value. He knew that much. “Where’s your boss?”
A guy got up and walked toward him, pointing a gun at him. “No one speaks to our boss by demanding it. How about you turn your ass around and head back to the crazy land you just came from.”
The group behind him laughed, and Ray scowled. He was so sick of people already.
Ray pulled his hand up swiftly, grabbing the gun in the guy’s hand and pulling it up. The man pulled the trigger as he twisted the man’s hand, and the bullet flew into the ceiling. The man cried out, and he twisted again, hearing a crack.
He let the man fall, looking back at the group. “Your boss. Now.”
The guys looked at each other, silently debating who was going to come at him next. Another guy with a bigger build stepped up and charged him. He and Ray slammed together and tumbled into a nearby table. Ray grabbed the guy and slammed him down, snapping the table into two pieces. The guy groaned, and he turned as another charged him.
He grabbed the third guy, throwing him onto a nearby chair. He growled, “Get your boss.” He snarled at the girls, who quickly ran from the room. He was hoping it was to do what he asked.
Someone slammed him from behind, sending him into a couch. Ray smacked his head against the back but quickly shook it off.
He turned back in time to see another gun come out. He moved before he was shot and grabbed the guy by the throat.
He curled his hand around the man’s neck, feeling him struggle to breathe.
“Impressive,” someone said behind him, and Ray looked over his shoulder at a man.
He was older, probably mid-fifties, wearing a blue blazer and shiny black shoes. He held Ray’s gaze, and Ray could tell this was the boss. “But I’m rather fond of my son, if you could please let him go.”
Ray dropped him, and the guy gasped for air. He looked up at Ray with red eyes.
Ray looked at the man. “Where is she?” he asked. “I’m not playing games.”