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Get your ass to my goddamn house right now or else.
Eilish
lol this is getting pathetic. Go jerk off if you’re that hard up. Byyeee
Thunder rolls in my head. I thumb away from my texting app and call Korol.
“What’s up?”
“That phone I asked you to geo-trace.”
It’s not exactly ethical. Then again, I do run a worldwide criminal organization.
“I need to know precisely where it is. Now.”
“You got it, Boss-man,” he mutters, clicking away at something on his end. “Okay, it’s at a bar called Angel’s Share. Texting you a map pin of it now.”
I hang up and relay where we’re going to my driver.
Eilish just made her bed.
Now, she’s going to get fucked in it. Hard.
14
EILISH
“Who’s that?”
My eyes snap from my phone to Callie.
“What?” I all-but-yell. I have to: it’s loud as absolute shit in here with the rock music thudding over the loudspeakers and so many people that the place is almost certainly over legal capacity.
Callie rolls her eyes. “Who’s the guy you’re texting?”
I swallow, my heart skipping as I put down my phone.
“No one. There’s no guy.”
Next to Callie, Dahlia smirks at me.
“I call bullshit.”
Callie snorts, turning to clink her margarita against Dahlia’s. “Right?”
I glare at the pair of them. “Okay, first of all, I feel set up.”
Callie snickers. “How so?”
“You told me we were going out for research purposes.”
She shrugs, gesturing around the crowded bar with her brows. “I mean, it is, isn’t it?”
I roll my eyes. “No. This place is nothing like our plan for The Banshee when it reopens, and you know it.”
Callie grins as she takes a sip of margarita. “Yeah, well, it’s a fun vibe, the margaritas are strong, and they have a conveniently loose stance on checking IDs at the door.”
I sigh and shake my head as she giggles. Callie’s not quite twenty-one yet. On the plus side, it means she still doesn’t have to deal with the whole bullshit arranged marriage thing she’s got with that creep Luca Carveli. On the downside…well, Callie likes a good cocktail, but she doesn’t have a good fake ID.
