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“He’s cartel, Gem. You want to know if he’s after you or double crossing you.”
I tip my head, conceding to her assessment. “He’s Mal... If he’s a defector, I need to know as soon as possible.”
“Got it.” She shrugs, then whispers, “I’ll see if I can tuck a recorder in my robe.”
“I’ll bring you something smaller, or I’ll compensate you for whatever you buy.” I frown at my near empty glass. “If he was always in the same room, it’d be easier to hide. But I know him better than that.”
“Yeah.” She huffs as she thinks through his movements. “He circulates around them all. I’ve never seen him in the same room back-to-back. And I can’t see a pattern without looking at Rosie’s books.”
I nod as Gabe pops back into the bar area, tucking his phone in his pocket.
“Lou is on his way to see you,” he announces. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Friday preens. “Me? God, he’s so fucking adorable. Is he eighteen yet?”
“He’s the same age as me,” Gabe says, unimpressed with where the conversation is going.
“So, he’s still jailbait,” she snaps back, grinning at the face he pulls.
Gabe sighs. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
“Do I?”
“Gabe,” she shouts, leaning over the bar to swat at him as she giggles loudly.
Echo shakes her head at them as she mumbles, “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.”
“Don’t worry about him,” I whisper. “He’s waiting for me to leave.”
Lou struts into The Flaming Cherry like this is his home away from home. I suppose it kind of is. We both love Rosario. She’s family to us. Lou is also family; my cousin and my mom’s nephew, to be specific. Despite his ritzy-side-of-town upbringing, he’s a vicious asshole who fits too well in the ranks of the cartel.
He slides right in between Friday and me, tossing a mischievous wink at Echo as he wraps his arms over our shoulders. I shrug out from under him, rolling my eyes when he does it again.
“Where’s fuck face?” Aloysius asks.
“Gabe?” Echo inquires, a shit-eating grin stretching across her plump lips.
“Don’t call me fuck face,” Gabe gripes.
Lou doesn’t care. He’s already moved on.
“What’s happening? Are we having a party?”
“Are you up for getting your hands dirty?” I murmur. “Someone followed me here.”
“So, definitely a party. Your place or mine?”
I fake-gag, and he cackles as he pats my back.
“Meet me at the back door,” I command.
To give him a head start at getting around the building, I take my time paying my tab and saying my goodbyes. I tip my head at the girls and Gabe before leaving the bar, letting them know I’ll be okay.
If the stranger watching me is actually following me, then he’ll be right behind me as I walk down the hall.
I have no doubts that he’s already out of his seat.
