I was heading to my office at the back of the club to meet Spades and Nate when Layla called. She said two words.Twofucking words. Enough to briefly put my mind at ease.
She’s alive.
Not yet safe, but with the phone to my ear, the solution was simple: ask where the hell she is.
I asked.
She didn’t answer.
She hung up the fucking phone. When I tried to redial, a private number sat at the top of the callers’ list. It took effort, but I reined the burning need to hurl my phone at the crowd of dancing people. I did, however, squeeze the cell so hard that the screen cracked in three places.
Spades and Nate sit in the office, sprawled on the brand-newredleather couches. A bottle of Bourbon, eight crystal glasses, a box of Cuban cigars, and an ashtray sit on the table, ready for unwanted guests. Too much has happened in the last twenty-four hours... I’m no longer in the right frame of mind to endure a business meeting with the V brothers and Julij. They’re due any minute, but my mind is elsewhere. Withher.
Julij hadn’t had the chance to meet the V brothers yet. Which is another reason why this meeting shouldn’t be happening tonight. I really can’t deal with their cocky attitudes. My fuse is way too short to referee the cock fight, which will, undoubtedly, ensue the second Vinn and Julij step into the same room together. Julij has an invidious ability to piss off a man without saying or doing much of anything. His face is enough. He can’t hide his emotions, and Vinn sure is easily offended. He looks for disrespect in everyone he comes across, always ready for a fight. He never takes thebigger manroute, unable to just fucking drop it. I’m in for one hell of a circus show going forward.
“Caro called,” Spades says, but I shush him with one flick of my hand, dialing Jackson’s number for the hundredth time since I ordered him to find Layla yesterday morning.
God, it feels right to think about her as mine again.
“I still don’t know anything, Dante,” he answers, his tone laced with amusement rings in the office loud and clear through the speakerphone. “I told you it’ll take time. Longer if you don’t stop calling every ten minutes. Get a fucking hobby, alright? Start knitting or go fishing.”
Spades and Nate elbow each other like children. They’re having a blast watching me lose my shit as I pace the room, growing uncharacteristically impatient.
“Layla called,” I say, stopping either of them from offering an alternative hobby or a snarky comment.
My people adapted to my change of heart faster than the light turns on after a switch is flipped. They knew my resolution to leave Layla behind like a figment of my past wouldn’t last long, but they stood back and watched from the sidelines while I processed her betrayal at my own slow pace.
So fucking slow.
Now, they organize search parties to locate Layla and contact our allies to thwart whoever plans on participating in the hit. The busy schedule doesn’t interfere with their not-so-subtle digs and yanking my chain all day long, though. Spades and Nate took it upon themselves to bug me for waiting so long before chasing after Layla.
I know they’re just trying to distract me from the problem at hand, from the fact that hundreds of killers are out there, salivating at the prospect of earning three million dollars. Keen to kill the one person I care about more than myself.
Surprisingly, Idon’tneed a distraction. I’m proud and rather impressed by how I handle the situation. My mind took the wheel, locking my heart in the trunk to focus and work in peace without the unwanted distraction of ache or fear leaping in the way.
“Did she say where she is?” Spades reacts first, his spine straight as an arrow, undivided attention on me. He’s waiting for orders, ready to go wherever we might need to go to get Layla.
“No. And no caller ID. Can you trace it, Jackson?”
“Yeah, sure I can. It’ll take a while, but it’ll be faster than what I had planned. I need your phone. Send Nate or Spades here, and I’ll get on it right away.”
Nate’s up before Jackson stops talking. He grabs my phone, cuts the call, and leaves the office without a word. It’s good to have a crew who knows how to use their brains.
“Here they come.” Spades motions at the screens behind my back which show the live feed from cameras inside Delta.
Together with Caro, the V brothers climb the metal staircase leading to the balcony. A moment later, the office door stands open. Vince enters first, a bottle of cognac in hand, a three-piece gray suit on his back. “The club looks good,” he says, giving my hand a firm squeeze.
“It looks the same.” Vinn clips, sauntering closer to pat my back. “Any news about Layla?”
“Not yet. How are things looking on your side?”
Vince sits on the couch and takes the liberty of standing in as our bartender for the evening. He pours the cognac, glancing around to check if anyone else wants a drink. I’m off alcohol for the time being. I need to stay alert, focused, and sober to jump behind the wheel at a moment’s notice.
“None of our clients will touch the job, and all have instructed their people to steer clear.”
“That’s a start,” I say, thinking of the bosses we supply with drugs. “Julij’s been calling off Nikolaj’s affiliates.”
The one in question chooses this moment to make an appearance, stealth as a ninja if I hadn’t spotted him on the cameras. Vinn narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Dimitri as if looking for weak spots. Knowing Vinn, that’s what he’s doing.