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My brows furrow. Who’s getting away with what?
There’s a short silence before I hear Sawyer’s familiar tone, the sound of it sending a chill down my spine, remembering exactly what he said to me in that concrete prison. “One of us should have stayed behind. She’s left unprotected.”
“No,” Zade responds. “It’s too fucking easy. Whoever is behind this is here keeping an eye on us. They want to know what we know. They won’t be making another move until they’re confident we don’t have a name. Besides, she’s out tonight.”
What the fuck is going on here? Who the hell is thisshethey keep referring to? Is it me?
“That won’t stop the bastard sending out another hit,” Dalton says, his tone deep and full of concern.
“I don’t think so,” Cross says. “He knows he needs to up his game. That hitman was a fucking joke. If he wants to get to her, he’s gotta get through us first, and anyone around here knows that’s a fucking suicide mission. Only someone with the right connections could pull this off.”
There’s another short silence before Zade finally speaks again. “Put out feelers tonight. Talk to the wives and daughters. They’ll tell you just about anything you want to know if they think they’re about to get fucked by one of you bastards. I’ll hit up—”
A loud gasp tears from my throat as something cool slithers over my hand on the bar, and I realize it’s Cross’s snake. I’m about ready to make a run for it, but a hand closes around the back of my neck, whipping me around with such force that I can’t even scream.
The guys crowd me, my back pushed up against the bar. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” Zade demands, his tone loud enough to grab the attention of the guests around us, their curious stares flashing our way.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit, shoving his hand off me, though something tells me he only obliges because we’re in a very public space. “You invite a girl to a fucking ball and then forget about it?”
“I didn’t invite you to shit,” he says.
Still holding my invitation, I slam it up against his wide chest and he tears the paper out of my hand. “Well, it had to have been one of you,” I say. “I’m not fucking stupid. The glossy E on the envelope was the same one on that stupid calling card you left in my room.”
Each of them look clueless and my brows furrow, glancing toward Dalton. “You didn’t send me this?”
He shakes his head as unease flashes in all of their eyes. They glance between themselves as though they just figured something out and are having some kind of silent conversation between themselves. Zade though? He just looks pissed. “They lured her out,” he tells the boys. “And we fucking missed it.”
“They’re trying to make a fucking scene in front of the whole company,” Sawyer says. “Trying to make you look weak.”
A raw panic starts to pulse through my veins, and despite how much I hate these assholes, I find myself wanting to stick to them like glue. “What the hell is going on?” I demand, “Who sent me that invitation?”
All four of them ignore my question, and as if on cue, they each turn to scan the room, looking high and low until Cross nods toward the farthest corner of the room. “Sniper. Northeast corner. It’s a fucking hit.”
“Shit,” Zade spits, grabbing me and shoving me hard into Dalton’s chest, his steel grip closing around my arms. “The three of you go hide her. Don’t let her out of your fucking sight, got it? I’m going to end this now.”
They nod, and before I know it, Zade disappears into the crowd like a fucking ghost, but I don’t get a chance to linger on it as Dalton drags me away with Sawyer and Cross hot on our heels. They move like lightning, and as I struggle to keep up, Dalton’s grip on my arm is the only thing keeping me on my feet.
We push through to a private storeroom and Sawyer locks it behind us before shoving a hardback chair under the handle. I’m knocked aside as the boys immediately start to pace. This must be the room the caterers are using for extra storage. “How did we fucking miss this?” Dalton roars. “A hit in front of the whole fucking society. That’s the kind of betrayal you don’t come back from.”
“They want him to look weak,” Sawyer says, his eyes wild. “They’re going to turn the whole society against him, making them think he can’t handle it.”
I throw myself back toward them, the anger blasting through my chest, not even caring that they’re suddenly talking openly in front of me and are probably on the verge of answering some of those darker questions I’m probably not ready for. Right now, I have my own set of questions, and I won’t stop until I get what I’m looking for. “One of you assholes better tell me what the fuck is going on right now or I—”
“Or you’ll what?” Cross demands, stepping in front of me, just as lethal as Zade.
Without even taking a second to think it over, I curl my hand into a tight fist and nail him with the hardest uppercut I can possibly manage, watching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “I’m not fucking scared of you,” I lie. “Now answer my fucking question before I tear your balls out through your throat.”
Cross’s jaw clenches and Dalton shoves between us, pushing us apart. “Enough of the bullshit,” he says. “Both of you sit your fucking asses down. We’ve got bigger problems than this.”
“Then go right ahead and enlighten me, asshole,” I demand, refusing to back down. “Who sent me that invitation?”
Dalton shakes his head, the frustration in his eyes making it clear he’s not going to answer.
“Just great,” I scoff. “After what you did to me, you fucking owe me. Now tell me what I need to know.”
Sawyer whips around. “We don’t fucking know, alright? It’s probably the same prick who left that calling card in your room.”
I fall back a step, gaping at him. “Wait, that wasn’t you?” I question, my voice shaking at the thought of there being someone else after me. “I thought it was Zade.”
