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He would just have to catch up.
There wasn’t time to spare.
We only paused to grab guns and our keys, then we were off, Colter keeping close on his borrowed bike as I sped through Shady Valley so fast that everything fucking blurred.
I didn’t know a shitton about Erion and Czar’s new alliance and business ventures, but I did know that they were operating out of Nyx’s old apartment building for the time being.
Lotta people in and out, hard for the cops to stake the place out. It made sense.
I didn’t pause to make sure Colter was there, was keeping pace, would have my back. I flew up the stairs because I was too impatient to wait for the elevator, and stormed down the hallway to find the apartment I was looking for.
Then I nearly knocked the fucking thing off the hinges.
“The fuck…” a voice called as the door opened.
There was Erion Kadare.
Former boss of the Albanian mob before the Russians took the whole crew out while he was locked up.
Current dealer of heroin in the area.
He was tall and strong with black hair and bright blue eyes. His face was all angles from his sharp, cleft jaw to the juts of his cheekbones and stern brow.
There weren’t a lot of criminals around these days that had that sort of bloodthirsty, cold, ruthless mindset of the glory days of organized crime.
Erion Kadare, though, was one of them.
So when I raised my gun and shoved it into his throat while pushing him back into his apartment, the only reaction I got out of him was a slightly arched brow.
There wasn’t much in the apartment.
A couch, a TV, a table.
Basic shit you needed to be able to spend a lot of time in a place, but not necessarily live there.
I remembered Slash saying that Erion had his eye on a house on Millionaire’s Row. I wondered if he was somehow there without me realizing it. Because he clearly wasn’t living here.
“This is an… interesting development,” Erion said as Colter slammed the door behind me, placing his body in front of it, so no one could come in or head out. “What have I supposedly done now?” he asked.
“Where is she?” I hissed, pressing the muzzle of the gun harder into his neck.
“This again? Who’s been kidnapped now? Why can’t you Henchmen keep an eye on your women?” he asked, tone bored, if somehow a bit amused.
“Where is Everleigh?” I growled, my finger itching to slide to the trigger, even if I knew that was completely irrational.
“Everleigh?” he asked, racking his brain, trying to place the name. “From the gym?” he asked, brows scrunched. “The fuck would I want with her?”
“Because she’s taking the charge for your crimes?”
“Is she? I should send her a fruit basket,” he said.
“You mother fuck—“
“Hey,” Colter said, voice calm, hand grabbing my forearm, and pushing it down. “This is getting us nowhere,” he said. Rational. Solid under pressure. I would have to tell Slash about this when it was all over and Everleigh was safe again.
“Smart man,” Erion said, reaching into his pocket, and coming back with a pack of cigarettes, slipping one into his mouth, then retrieving a lighter to light it. He took a long drag then exhaled before speaking again. “What crime is this girl involved with?”
“She’s not. That’s the problem,” I said. “She’s charged with distribution of heroin. As is her boss.”
