Hideaway (Devil's Night 2)

“So, they sent me the Nip, huh?” he said, not looking at me as he stroked the huskie’s fur. “Isn’t Michael the alpha dog anymore?”

I tipped my chin up, keeping my tone level despite his slur. “Moscow Rules, Mr. Torrance.” I reminded him. “Number eight. ‘Never harass the opposition.’”

“Number nine,” he shot back, flashing me his dark eyes under a gray brow. “Pick the time and place for action.”

And he held out his hands, gesturing to his men and their guns, which were never far away, and his house, meaning I was on his turf. He had the advantage.

“So, what’s this about?” He wiped his hands off on a linen napkin, digging between his fingers and under his ring. “Are we coming to terms? Will you leave my son alone if he comes home?”

“That depends. Are you open for business?”

All of a sudden, the German shepherd snapped, both he and the pit bull barking at each other as the latter tried to snatch meat. Gabriel took a step, shouting, “No. Heel!” He whipped the cloth, snapping it at the pit bull’s face.

One of his men rushed to grab the dog as Gabriel scowled at the fighting animal.

“That spotted one is pissing me off,” he told the man and then barked at the dog again. “Down. Down!”

The poor animal was dragged away and Gabriel came back to the table, tossing the napkin down. He glanced at me, coming back to our conversation. “Don’t play with me, boy,” he gritted out. “You’re only still alive because Damon will want to do the honors himself.”

“No,” I replied, my tone dead calm. “Your son has made enough of a mess for you, and you don’t need another one right now. If we can do this amicably, I know we’d both prefer it, so don’t try to intimidate me.”

He laughed softly, taking a drink from his rocks glass. Michael, Will, and Rika had agreed that they would move on with their lives and let Damon move on with his if he stayed out of town and away from us.

But not me. I needed to find him, and I couldn’t tell my friends why.

And I needed to find him now, before he returned home and to the protection of his family.

“Your hotel in the city,” I continued. “The Pope. It’s on my side of the river, and I’m interested in it. Quid pro quo. You give me something. I give you something. Is it for sale?”

“Everything’s for sale.” He set his glass down and took a seat, gesturing for me to do the same. “But I’ll want my son back.”

Of course, you do. I took a seat in the black, wrought iron garden chair, trying to look relaxed despite the ache in my knotted stomach. I hated him and this house.

“And even if that is on the table,” he went on, “it still won’t be enough to make a deal. I don’t like you.”

“I do.” A young blonde approached, and I turned my gaze on her. She wore a white silk robe just long enough to cover her ass as she leaned over to set another drink in front of Gabriel. “And I’m for sale,” she teased.

I cast my gaze back at Gabriel, trying to ignore the interruption. It was neither unusual to see women dressed like that in this house, nor was her flirtation out of the ordinary. Entertainment was always within reach here. Even when Damon’s mother had lived here.

I dropped my eyes, feeling adrenaline flood my veins at the memory of her. I didn’t like her any more than her husband.

The young woman moved to walk away, but Gabriel pulled her back and into his lap.

“You know what your problem is?” he asked me as he snaked a hand around her and squeezed her breast through her robe. “Why, out of the three of you, you were the one I hated hanging around my son in high school?”

I remained silent.

“Your loyalty has a limit,” Gabriel said, answering his own question. “I could always see that. Grayson and Crist, they would protect you even if they found a dead hooker in your bed and blood on your hands. No questions. No hesitation. And so would Damon.” He nodded at me. “But I don’t think you’d do the same for them.”

His arrogant eyes held mine as he slipped a hand inside her robe, absently fondling her breast.

I curled my hands into fists. But then I relaxed, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He would never know how much I’d done for his son.

“Even your love for your friends,” he continued, “could never overshadow your sense of right and wrong, right?”

“I went to prison for assaulting a police officer. For a friend,” I reminded him.

“No. For assaulting a man you believed deserved it for abusing his sister