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While I was distracted with Fitzy, she took the opportunity to compose herself, sitting quietly with her hands folded in her lap, her legs dangling in the air.
“I have to go to Oracle,” I tell her. She looks up at me and nods. “Make yourself at home. Don’t leave the apartment.”
Surprisingly, she doesn’t bristle at the order in my tone. If anything, she looks relieved. Nodding to her, I turn and stride out of the apartment, closing the door firmly behind me and taking a deep, steadying breath.
Groaning, shaking my head, I walk toward the elevator bank. Did I just tell a woman to make herself at home in my apartment? That’s a first. It’s a first I don’t understand, and I’m not sure I like it.
Slinging myself into my SUV, I roar out of the parking garage, turning to Oracle. The Vice cops are there, sitting in their unmarked Crown Vic, sticking out like a sore thumb.
Ignoring them, I jog up the stairs, stepping into the club, the familiar sounds of the place waking up and getting ready for a night of booze-soaked debauchery swirling around.
Strippers are arriving as I walk through the door from the private lounge to the club's back end. They call out to each other, laughing and chatting. I pass their dressing room without a glance, beelining for Fitzy’s office.
The generic-looking door has aManagerlabel on the door but nothing else. Fitzy is surprisingly unconcerned about flashy shit. It’s one thing I love about the prick.
Stepping into the office, it’s clear I’m the last one here. Connor starts catcalling the second the door closes behind me.
“So. Is my little good luck charm dynamite in bed?” he smirks, blinking in shock when my fist snaps out and smashes into his face. I blink too. That was unexpected, but it felt fucking good.
“Her name is Lauren,” I growl at him. “You can call her that or nothing.”
Seamus is watching me carefully, and Ronan and Niall trade looks in the corner. Liam simply looks confused.
“I take it she’s the reason you’re late?” Seamus notes, a dangerous edge in his tone.
“And so she is, Fitzy,” I agree easily, sinking into the last empty chair dotted around the room. “The lass only just woke up, couldn’t leave before I found out what she needed.”
“And what was that?” Seamus throws a dark look over at Connor when he opens his mouth, no doubt to offer a smart-arsed comment. I scratch my head, shrugging, lounging back in my seat.
“I don’t right know. She didn’t exactly get to the point.”
Seamus’s eyes fly up his forehead, and he starts smirking. Prick.
“It’s not like that,” I snap. His lips drop back into a straight line. “She’s hiding from someone. Didn’t say who.”
“Where is she now?” Seamus asks after a beat, nodding his head.
“My place.”
He blinks in surprise. “Still?” he sounds incredulous now.
I shake my head. “Where else is the lass supposed to go?”
He glares at me. “We don’t know who this lass is. She could be anyone -.”
I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “She’s Josh Carmichael’s sister.”
That statement has the attention of the room.
“The Dot fighter who had a run-in with the Italians?” Connor asks. I blink at him in surprise. I think he has the man mixed up with someone else. He couldn’t possibly be talking about the Josh Carmichael I’m thinking of.
“The Italians?” Seamus ponders, but I’m already shaking my head.
“Carmichael wasn’t associated with any organizations. He was just there to fight. He and Perry go way back. Probably how Perry knew Lauren.”
As I think about it, I need to speak with Perry. What the fuck was he thinking? Letting Lauren run around that warehouse with a vague instruction to Fitzy to look out for her.
“Nah.” Connor is frowning and shaking his head. “He might not have worked for the Italians, but I distinctly remember them talking about taking out a Dot fighter named Carmichael because he refused to take a fall. Cost them a fucking bomb when he won the fight he was supposed to take a dive in.”
