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“Get the door. It’s Boris.”
“Boris.” I fling an arm over my eyes. “Why the hell is he here? He wasn’t supposed to come back till he figured out how to get me the fuck outta here.”
Patrick’s lips pull into a tight line. “He needs your help.”
I grab a pillow and stuff it over my face. “Fuck that. I’m done helping those assholes.”
“Quinn, it’s not only helping them. It’s helping all of us.”
I let the words seep into my fuzzy brain, the rush of breath deflating my lungs. “Fine. Anything for you guys.You guys.”
“Just open the door.” Patrick knits his brows. “You look like shit, by the way.”
I take my time swinging my legs around the side of the bed. “Thanks. I worked really hard to get this look.”
“How many six-packs?” Patrick asks dryly.
“I lost count.” I stagger to the door, unlock the chain and the deadbolt, and twist the handle.
Boris holds out a brown paper bag. “Breakfast.”
My stomach roils at the smell of eggs.
“You need the grease to soak up the booze, fucking amateur,” Patrick says.
Boris flips a switch and the cracked fixture on the ceiling floods the room with light.
I yelp. “Too bright.”
“What are you, a gremlin?” Patrick asks with a snicker.
I walk back to the bed and fall onto the mattress, dropping the phone next to me. “Why are you here, Boris? Can’t you let me wallow in peace?”
“There isn’t time.”
The edge in his voice has my attention. I raise myself up, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Boris sits in a chair near the door. “Patty, you still there?”
“Yep,” he replies.
“Okay.” He looks at me. “Quinn, the girl you took from the club last night has a marking on her side. It’s a number and a set of initials.”
“Lemme guess. B.I.”
Boris nods. “Correct. We spoke to her this morning, and she took us through everything she remembers about the night she was kidnapped. We mapped out all the restaurants in Las Vegas and the surrounding area with ‘Mariachi’ in the name. Found a place in East Las Vegas that matches. We pulled it up online and she confirmed that was the spot.”
“So why are you telling me this? Let your fucking dickwad pals go down there and raise hell so I can go back to sleep.”
“Quinn, stop being an obstinate asshole,” Patrick growls. “You’re out there to do a job.”
I grab the phone and glare at my brother’s face. “And last night, I was told that I’m a complete fuckup who is crazy and doesn’t think about consequences. The job sucks, and I quit.”
“You can’t quit now.” Boris sweeps a hand over his head. “Alek and the guys aren’t going to the restaurant. Only Val is.”
“How the fuck could they let her—?”
“Nobody is ‘letting her’ do anything. She insisted. Wouldn’t hear of anyone going in there with her. She feels like this is something she needs to do on her own.”
