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Ocean: I don’t like this. What am I supposed to do? Hover outside with a drone?
Me: If you want.
I can picture Ocean glaring at the message, but I know that’s what she’s going to do. She won’t be able to help herself. It’s easy enough for me to slip out. A car is waiting the same as it was the other night.
The driver doesn’t ask questions, already knowing where I want to go.
“Pull to the back,” I tell him when we get closer to the strip club. He does as I say. The back parking lot has a few cars in it, but no one is out here. When the car pulls away, I slip my coat off and stride for the back door. It’s go time.
I glance over my shoulder into the dark sky. I don’t see anything, but I know Ocean is there. I punch in the code, and the door unlocks. I step into the back where four girls are mingling around changing outfits.
“You new?” one asks when she sees me.
“Yes,” I lie.
“What’s your name?”
“Rebel.” I smirk.
Getting in was easier than I thought. Too easy. Now I have to find my target and pray this all doesn’t blow up in my face.
But like I said… I’m irrational. I’m a Palermo.
15
GILLY
My blood pressure ticks up a notch with each mile farther I drive from the Palermo estate. Where the hell is Carina going?
She snuck out of her room and made quick work of the grounds and the stone wall, then had a ride waiting for her. It makes me itch to know that she’s snuck out enough times to have a well-laid plan each time she does it.
I’m putting a stop to this right now. There’s absolutely no reason Carina Palermo should be sneaking out in the dead of night. If she was doing something on the up-and-up, she wouldn’t need this sort of secrecy. I also know she isn’t doing anything shady–if she were, she’d have told Antonio all about it, and he’d probably reward her for having initiative. That leaves one answer to the question of what the fuck she’s doing–somethingdangerous. That’s the only reason she’d hide it.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, my knuckles going white as I follow the nondescript black sedan into the northern section of downtown. It’s an area on the edge of gentrified and seedy–clubs lining the streets where just a few blocks over, high-rent condos are going up. It’s a no man’s land. No one family lays claim to this territory, but different families run different clubs along the main strip. Her car turns down the alley behind Maniacs, one of the high-end, invite-only places where dark shit goes down.
I follow, killing the headlights as I maneuver behind a dumpster, my blood pressure still rising at a precipitous pace. It goes through the fucking sunroof when I see her step from the car and whip off her long coat. She’s wearing a crop top with a black skirt that could double as a postage stamp. It barely covers her, and I know for certain that if she makes one wrong move, too much of her will be on display.
With nimble fingers, she enters the door code and slips inside. My mouth drops open when I lose sight of her. How the fuck did she know the door code? Andwhy is she dressed like that?
A headache forms behind my temple as I put the car in reverse and slam on the brakes once I’m almost out to the main street. Jumping from my car, I hurry to the front door.
“No entry.” A bouncer with about a hundred pounds on me holds out his hand, blocking my way.
“If you want to keep that fucking hand, you’ll let me pass,” I snarl, my anger fogging any rational thought. Anger and … fear. Carina doesn’t belong in a place like this. She could get hurt. Badly.
“We got a tough guy?” He reaches out to grab my lapel.
I take his hand, yank it to the side, then twist his pinky finger so hard it snaps.
He yowls, and another man opens the black door of the club, takes one look at me, then steps back. “Gilly. Didn’t expect you.”
“Vince.” I brush past him.
“Should I tell Mr. Cavalli you’re here?” He peers out into the dark behind me. “Is Antonio comin–”
“Just me.”
He closes the door on the still-yowling bouncer.
