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The noise immediately drew three men from a nearby doorway. They sprinted into the room, totally bewildered, as the ogre behind the bar shrieked in pain.
“ALRIGHT!” he practically cried. “Alright, I’ll—”
“You can let go of him,” another voice said smoothly. “I’m here now.”
I whirled, and found myself staring at what could only be Aimon Lozano.
“Call off the others first,” ordered Cody. He picked up an unbroken bottle of vodka and used it to point casually at the pair of newcomers. “Then we’ll talk.”
For a moment Aimon said nothing. Still staring daggers at the intruder behind the bar, he eventually complied.
“You can go.”
Reluctantly the others left, filing out the same door they’d entered through. I still didn’t know where Aimon had come from. Like a magician, he’d materialized seemingly from out of nowhere.
“So are you planning on keeping Antony?” Aimon jested.
The bartender twisted in pain. He’d stopped screaming, however.
“Maybe his hand,” Silas answered acidly. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“He needs that hand, Mr. Florio. Without it, he’s of little use to me.”
Silas stared for another second or two, then finally released his grip. Antony the ogre pulled back, clutching his ruined palm against his meaty chest. Eventually he shifted his gaze over to his boss, who dismissed him with a quick, ill-tempered nod. His hand dripped a generous trail of blood the entire way out of the room.
“Barbaric,” said Aimon Lozano, his mouth twisted in disgust. “And unnecessary.”
“As unnecessary as beating on an innocent woman?” countered Silas.
Cody was already pouring another drink from the new bottle. But Aimon Lozano ignored him.
“So you’re the one who tuned up my brother and his men?”
“If by tuned up you mean beat the shit out of,” said Silas, “then yeah.”
“That’s unfortunate,” said Aimon.
“For him?” Silas replied. “Sure was.”
“No, Mr. Florio,” Aimon said, his voice sharper and louder now. “Unfortunate for you.”
The way he talked seemed almost rehearsed, but I knew it wasn’t. His voice was petulant. Spoiled. Shit, he reminded me of a comic book villain.
“Enough with the threats,” Cody said abruptly. He poured and tossed back his second drink, then jerked a thumb at me. “What exactly do you want with her?”
For the first time Aimon actually looked my way. His dark eyes crawled over me, making the skin on my arms and shoulders erupt in gooseflesh.
“The better question would be, what does she want withus?”
There was the crunch of glass as Cody stepped out from behind the bar. He was still holding the bottle.
“She doesn’t want anything to do with you,” he said.
“Oh no? Was her stalking Javi just a coincidence, or—”
“I wasn’t stalking Javi,” I jumped in. “I was trying to find my brother. His name’s Evan. Evan Fletcher.”
I studied Aimon’s expression carefully, searching for any signs of recognition. Unfortunately he remained stoic. Completely unmoved.
