“No. But it will make me feel better knowing you have it.”
She nods, and I cup her face in my hands again. “Remember the first time you pulled a gun to my head or the scalpel to my throat?” Her eyebrows crinkle slightly. “You know how to fight, my Little Raven. And you know how to draw blood. No one will hurt our family. Do you understand me?”
Something shifts in her then, that determined feral woman who won’t let anyone or anything close. But I can see her channeling it now, her own little psycho not too far from the edge.
“Yes,” she says, and her voice has a bit of gravel and bite to it. That’s my girl.
“Good. I’m going to call my sister, niece, and housekeeper, Lotti, to come over. They’ll be good company. You can trust them.”
I also want all the women I care about deeply in one place to better protect them.
I press a kiss to her lips. It’s a silent promise. I’m going to fix this.
I walk toward the door when she says my name, and I turn around.
“The moment you find Nessa, you’ll call me, yes?”
NotifI find Nessa but when. Her trust and faith are paramount.
I nod, then leave the room.
Walking down the stairs, I remove my phone from my pocket and make a call.
It’s answered on the second ring.
“I need you to find someone for me. When you find him, I need to know immediately. Because this asshole has some explaining to do.”
44
SILAS
It takes me less than an hour to find him.
He’s at Supernova, a high-end strip club where a lap dance can cost you north of seven hundred. Yes, he’s certainly loyal to Nessa.
The moment the bouncer sees me, he unclips the rope and steps aside so I can walk through.
Inside, the club throbs with bass and bodies. The low lighting glows blue from the bar’s neon lights. Everywhere you look, beautiful women in lingerie are walking around. On stage, women twirl on dance poles, and men make money rain.
I move through the crowd toward the back of the club. The VIP section is separated from the main floor by closed doors and a bouncer guarding the entrance. This one knows me by name and gives me a friendly nod. “Mr. Vescari. Welcome.”
He opens the door, and I walk into the private lounge, which is where clients enjoy the company of beautiful women in private booths while drinking glasses of expensive champagne.
In the far corner, I find Ben.
He’s slouched in a booth with a drink in his hand and a dancer on his lap, still with his hand in a sling and cast from thelast time we had a friendly encounter. She’s blonde and naked, and rolling her body against him while he leans back like he’s the king of the club.
I approach the booth, and when the dancer sees me, she stops grinding. She reads my expression and quickly makes herself scarce.
Ben blinks up at me, drunk. “Hey, what the…”
I grab him by the throat and haul him out of the booth, then slam him against the wall. His eyes bulge, and his hands fly to my wrist to claw at my grip.
“What the fuck?” he chokes.
“Do you know who I am?”
I ease my grip just enough for him to breathe. Not that I want to. Slimy assholes like him are a pet peeve of mine. But dead men can’t answer questions.
