Already in club attire, we didn’t need to stop anywhere before heading to Torrid, the nightclub owned by the Tucci family. It was the part of the evening I didn’t like. We had guards infiltrating the club as we drove there, but having Mia in New York was still a risk.
“Don’t leave my side no matter what. Even if you have to go to the bathroom, the guards will secure it, and I’ll go in there with you.”
“Yeah, no.” She shook her head, her long dark hair sweeping across her back. “I’m not okay with that. I go in alone.”
I smirked. There was no way she would go in there without me. That was one of the easiest places to grab someone, and Lil could attest to it. Too bad she wasn’t there to back me up on this little disagreement. Mia was stubborn. I loved that about her. She fit right in with the rest of us.
We had one of our guards drive us, unwilling to deal with parking for the club. When we pulled up to the entrance, I got out and went around to help Mia, who left her coat on the back seat. With her arm tucked into the crook of my elbow, we bypassed the line of people shivering in the cold, waiting to get in.
The heavy beat of the music blasted through the closed doors, vying with New York’s ever-present stench of garbage.
We closed the distance from the curb to the entrance, cutting in front of the people at the head of the line. There were a few protests, but we ignored them, stopping in front of the bouncers. There was no need for me to issue a threat if they didn’t recognize me. It was Mia’s arena, and I was willing to feed her blossoming confidence.
“Mia Tucci.” Her voice rang clear, cutting through the crisp air and hushing anyone in earshot who was dumb enough to complain.
“Ms. Tucci, we weren’t expecting you.” The bouncer shoved open the door, his eyes wide while his buddy discreetly whispered into his communication device.
With her head held high, and her wedding diamonds sparkling on her finger, she walked beside me and into the club. The muted thump of bass increased to a shout-to-be-heard level and pushed our hearts to align to its rhythm. The interior was hazy, and the strobe lights contrasting with the dark could have provoked a seizure in someone susceptible.
We’d decided beforehand to remain on the lowest of the three levels, opting for a quick escape if needed. Our guards would be stationed throughout, dancing, drinking, and blending with the crowd but always watching.
Weaving through writhing bodies, we joined the mass in our small pocket of space on the dance floor. I rested my hands on her hips as we moved to the beat. While she swayed and moved her hips in a figure eight, arms in the air, I glared at the men around us who took immediate notice. It was also an excuse to be on the lookout for Ricco, who I knew would be there upon hearing Mia was.
Then her arms came down around my neck, and I felt her body press into mine. My focus narrowed to her softness and the way she moved against me. After another quick scan, I slanted my mouth over hers in a hungry kiss because goddamn, she was gorgeous.
Tearing my lips from hers cost me. Sexy hooded eyes gazed into mine, and I felt my heart crack open wider, letting her burrow in—something I’d never done before. But that woman, she was mine. I wanted all of her. When we were apart, thoughts of her drove me to distraction.
I was about to tell her that when movement caught my attention. “Incoming.”
Her body stiffened, and she moved to my left side, sliding her arm around my waist and freeing my right hand to pull out my gun if needed. Behind my back, I felt the flat side of the knife she must have slid free from where it was hidden beneath her dress.
We were ready.
The crowd parted, and Ricco stopped in front of us, two soldiers on either side of him. It was the first time he and I had been face-to-face. Cold, calculating eyes met mine after scanning Mia from head to toe, pausing on the diamonds on her left ring finger. There was no surprise, which told me his boss and stepfather, Joey Tucci, had already informed him of the package he’d received and our phone call.
“Why are you here?” Ricco shouted above the techno beat.
“We need a meeting,” Mia growled.
That whole scene wasn’t what I had in mind. “Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private.” Hopefully toward the back rooms.
Ricco nodded once, his slicked-back hair not budging from the movement, then said something to one of his guards, who cleared a path. He waved for us to follow. We had soldiers on the balconies above, but there was no way I would have him at either of our backs. We moved to the side, and I stared him down until he grimaced and led the way, the other guard at his back.
He led us to a steel door at the back corner of the club, and we went through to enter a dimly lit hallway. When he turned to the right, we followed. After about ten feet, he unlocked a door that opened to an office with TV screens along one side of the wall, showcasing different areas of the club. The top eight monitors were dark, as was one at the bottom right. Those had to have been for the back rooms where the girls were kept. And possibly for two floors below the club where they kept the abducted women.
I positioned us so that the guards were within sight and our backs were to the wall before giving Mia’s hip a gentle squeeze. She wanted to initiate the discussion.
“Have you met my husband?” She flashed Ricco her teeth, not quite in a smile, and I chuckled. “We need a meeting with my father.”
“Your father?” Ricco’s brows rose.
I stiffened at the dark intent that flashed across his face.What is this fucker up to?
“Well, he’s not yours. Not by blood.”
“No.” Ricco knocked the surface of his mahogany desk with his knuckles. “And I deem that a good thing, considering what he did.”
“We’re not here to play games,” I interjected, unwilling to let him get away with whatever he was concocting. “Set up a meeting. You can reach us at the Carlyle Hotel”—an exclusive hotel on the Upper East Side—“when you’re ready. We’ll tell you where.”