They don’t know the danger they’re in. That I’m the one protecting their asses. If Dante comes for me, he will kill them too after I’m dead. I’m sure of it. Even Saskia, who refuses to live in this house or have anything to do with me, is most likely on his list. Dante is the same as me. That’s how I know. We take what we want when we want. And we protect what’s ours.
The only reason the boys are alive right now is that I let them.
I let them.
Not the other way around.
* * *
Dante finally sendsme the location. I dress casually and head out. Jude is in his room with the music cranked up and Dino still isn’t home. I can’t use the Audi since it’s traceable, so I get my Beetle out of the garage, change the plates, and drive it into West London, hiding it down an alleyway. The area chosen for the meet is one I’ve been to a few times before—a shit-hole full of crack whores and drug dealers.
I find the place easily, a dingy bar that is mostly empty and dark. But it has Dante’s signature all over it. I can almost hear him lecturing me as I descend the metal steps, in that stone-cold tone of his—location matters, there needs to be an entrance hidden from the main road, as well as an escape route. Fewer staff and punters to see your face. The owner must have some reason to accept bribes. Once you have all of this, you drop the bait and wait.
Quinn, in this instance, is my bait.
And like a good little kitten, I’ve come to eat the mouse. I also kind of want to see what Dante has up his sleeve for me.
I check my phone again before I get out of the car. Dino still hasn’t messaged me back and I have no idea where he went. He didn’t say a word when he was shoving his tongue down my throat. He was just gone when I got back from my stakeout and left me alone to deal with Jude.
Jude, who was following me for about an hour in his Aston Martin tonight. I let him flounder around after me for a while, then I lost him before I hit London.
As soon as all the boys are back, I’m moving out. I’m done living with them. This is all a temporary setup while I figure out my next move. Polina wasn’t my only employer. Once word got around that I bailed on her job, the others seem to have backed off. All except one. Griffin.
I’ll reach out to him after I finish the job here.
A job. That’s all these boys are supposed to be to me.
I need to remember that.
I walk into the bar like I’m not in any rush, but I’m not dawdling either. She’s already waiting for me, dressed like all the creatives flooding into the area because it’s dirt cheap—ripped bell-bottom jeans, big jewelry, and a bright red gypsy top. Her hair is braided and her eyes are bright. She kisses me on the cheek. Heads turn and note her uniqueness sticking out like a bleeding fawn.
There is no blending with Quinn.
I slide into the booth and she pushes a martini at me. My brow raises. We’re in a bar that doesn’t even have beer on tap, and Quinn managed to get the barman to make her a couple of cocktails? I don’t take a sip. As much as I’d enjoy the acrid taste, the furrow in her brow is enough to make me hesitate.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she says after a pause.
Translation…This is a trap and you should know better.
I give a shrug. “You know me. I’m not one to hide.”
Quinn purses her lips, letting her head nod absently as she takes a drink from her own glass. “No, but you’re smarter than this.”
“Am I?… How is Polina?” I can’t help but tack on.
“Her focus is on Russia. Her investors want a bigger share of the pie now that they know she’s been skimming off the top. I wonder how they found out?” She looks at me with sudden interest.
“I wonder,” I say, nonchalantly.
“I heard you made friends with Iskar since you’ve been laying low.”
Iskar. Polina’s boss. “It was the only way I could think to get the bitch off my back,” I say, giving a shrug. The Dukes’ uncle, Carl Marques, the one who took the hit out on Lorcan and the one Jude keeps harping on at me to take out, would have been an easier target compared to leaking information to the Russians. But that would mean doing Jude a favor and I’m loathe to do that right now. “The question is if Polina has her hands full, why is Dante still fixated on finding me?” I ask Quinn.
“Who knows why? He’s a psycho.”
I blink at her. “So am I, but that doesn’t mean I like to expend energy unnecessarily. He’s up to something.” The unspoken or why would he put you up to this hangs in the air.
Quinn’s lips pull into a thin line. “Just don’t go back to your apartment. And maybe invest in some security. Where are you staying anyway? Somewhere remote and untraceable, I hope?”