For the last few hours, I’ve had to watch him alternate between dancing with two very attractive women. This wasn’t a mission for him; this was his playground, and it was starting to get old.
“Stay in your own damn lane, Grasso,” I snap.
Dante presses himself up against yet another blonde. “Gladly.”
My eyes absently flick back down to the bar, to where Mia is listening to Carmen explain something with slightly too elaborate hand gestures. The debutant has been drinking solidly for several hours now, so it’s no surprise.
Mia has a lovely flush to her cheeks, one that I know isn’t the result of alcohol—considering that she’s been subbing out every drink Carmen puts in front of her with water.
It’s been a very long week. That’s the excuse I give myself. The possibility that I’m the reason behind that flush is enough to make me half-hard.
Fuck, I was ready to take her right then on the dancefloor.
I need to get myself together.
Mia gets up from her seat and pointedly doesn’t look around before beelining to the bathroom. Maybe I could…
“I’ll follow her,” Max announces. I see the man already shifting from his seat.
Good. That’s good. That’s a sensible thing to do. This is still, technically, work.
Fucking my wife in a bathroom wouldn’t be very professional.
I sit back in my seat and try my best to focus on the job. Just another couple of hours, then I can make up some kind of excuse to see her again. Maybe she’ll come back to the brownstone with me.
Maybe she’ll explain then why her father hasn’t shown up to work all week.
My phone rings, and I frown down at the caller ID. It’s almost three a.m. He never calls this late.
“Teo?”
“Where are you?” The Guild’s don barks down the phone. “The Cartel is mobilizing for fucking battle in the middle of the goddamn night. I need everyone you can spare.”
All thoughts of warmth and thighs and a bathroom rendezvous entirely leave my mind. “Where? One of ours?”
“Brooklyn, but neutral. No one’s stationed there, but they’re launching an attack on someone…”
“…and an enemy of an enemy is a friend,” I finish for him. “What’s the address?”
“The Inferno, it’s a club on Liberty. Cars have been swarming it for twenty minutes.”
No.
I stand up and immediately look toward the bathroom, where both Max and Mia have disappeared from view.
No. No. No.
“Leon?”
My voice feels dead in my throat. “I’m already here.”
The lights cut out.
The club plunges into darkness, the air vibrating with the pulse of the bass and the sudden cries of the crowd. Panicked or excited, it’s suddenly very hard to tell.
The only source of light comes from the sickly green strobes that scatter across the crowds too frequently to be of any use. This is bad.
“Did you just say you’re already at The Inferno?” Teo’s voice crackles over the phone.
