Page 110 of Damián

I can’t even play something on my phone because I don’t want to turn it on and freak out over whatever texts Damián sent… If he sent anything at all.

Which would honestly be worse.

So I stay here, moving my head like I am in a boy band, nursing my drink and wishing I could sleep.

Finally, ten minutes later, Zara and Kaleo emerge from the back hallway, looking appropriately ruffled, and sit next to me.

“How was it?” I ask Kaleo, but the music is too loud.

“What?!”

“How was it?!” Kaleo sits next to me and leans in close so I can hear him over the bass, his mouth practically brushing my ear.

“Everything is ready for Monday. Thank you for adding this family to the list, Ollie. I know they aren’t as connected to your father’s business as the rest of the people we’ve extracted…”

I lean in just as close, the music practically leaving me deaf. “Kal, any soul we save from my father is a miracle. It doesn’t matter how connected they are, or if they have any intel to help us close a case.”

Kaleo pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. “You are a good man.”

I laugh because how fucking ironic to hear those words today.

“No worries. And thanks for lending us the yacht for the drop. Did Zara give you all the info?”

Kaleo nods, and I turn to Zara.

She’s standing in front of the table, her phone glowing in her hands, and a mischievous grin on her face.

Oh… that smile always means trouble.

“Are you texting a booty call?” I ask.

“I’m not texting. I’m casting a very, very large hook.”

“To whom?”

“To Moby-DICK.” She slips the phone into her purse, throws her arms around my neck, and pulls me into a fierce hug. “I love you, Ollie. And even if you can’t see it right now, you deserve the world.”

But before I can process whatever the hell that means, Zara pulls back, throws her arms in the air, and screams over the music.

“Now, who wants some shots?!”

“Shots!” Kaleo cheers.

“Wait,” I say, frowning. “Are you sure we should be doing shots right now?”

“Absolutely, we should,” Zara insists, flagging down a waitress. “That part is done. Now, let’s relax and party.” She glances down at her watch, and that damn grin returns to her lips. “Besides, you’ll probably need a bit of liquid courage in… fifteen minutes or so.”

I frown, twisting around in the booth to scan the club to see if there are any VIP banners, a new DJ taking the stage, or a celebrity walking in… or anything that might be happening in fifteen minutes.

But the club looks exactly the same as always.

“What is happening in fifteen minutes?” I ask.

Zara pats my cheek. “A great show for me. And for you… well, you’ll see.”

CHAPTER 13

DAMIÁN