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We’re standing on pins and needles, waiting to exit the plane.
We shouldn’t be here. This was never part of the plan. But sometimes you have to make quick decisions when things get out of hand.
As we exit, Byron’s men escort us to the hotel grounds.
“I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work out,” Dasha whispers. “Seriously, I have a daughter to think about.”
“You agreed to this trip,” I say. “Besides, it’ll work out. Stop worrying, or you’ll jinx us.”
“Well, if it doesn’t,” she says. “I have my own plan I’ve cooked up.”
“Don’t you dare,” I hiss. One of the men turns his head, and I feel my heart skip a beat.
We both shut up immediately.
Byron pushes open the doors and greets us. “There are our lovely ladies! Welcome, welcome!”
“Hello, Byron,” Dasha says.
He blushes when he sees her.
Bowing, Byron takes her hand in his, kissing the tops of her knuckles. Dasha’s face is akin to getting the stomach flu.
“I’ve missed that sweet face of yours,” he says. “Isn’t she gorgeous, Madison?”
“She’s wonderful,” I say, voice monotone. “So how is this going down? What do you need from us?”
I need Rocco. If he’s not here by tonight, I think I’ll die. I don’t want to see Byron have his way with my best friend.
“Tonight is the fundraiser. We have plenty of time. I thought we could go out for a drink first,” he says. “How does that sound? Are you too jet-lagged to have a little fun?”
“Sounds wonderful,” I say. “Lead the way.”
My phone is on silent. I don’t want to take any chances. If Byron finds out we’re attempting a coup, he’ll go over the top.
I have no idea what will happen.
I have to wonder, would he kill us? Would he have someone else kill us? I can feel my heart beating against my throat as we walk to the nearest bar.
“How are you feeling, doll?” he asks, wrapping his cold hand around my waist.
I smile and try to act my best, something I hope I’ll never have to do after this.
I act peppy. “I’m good!” I say. “I’m very excited to be in Boulder.”
“Good, that’s what I like to hear,” he says.
The city is beautiful, actually. It’s humbling, really.
In Detroit, it’s much different. Wherever you go, there’s some kind of ruin. Sure, there are some trees. There are nice homes. But the streets are what govern Detroit, and Byron owns those avenues.
When we get to a bar, we meet with some of our top donors. No doubt they’ve put a lot of money into this new hotel project and now they want to see their dreams come true.
Tonight, people from all over will arrive to put money down on the development. If I know Byron well enough, it won’t be a very good investment.
“Dasha and Madison, this is Haruki Tanaka and Ayumi Watanabe,” Byron smiles.
I bow and hope I’m following Japanese tradition. “It’s a pleasure.”
