Page 41 of Cruel Devil

“Jesus, the last thing I want to do is talk about what gets your dick hard.” My eyes jump back to the bouncers. “Now shut the hell up and text Matias. I want to make sure they’re at their posts.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

“Someone could have taken them out.”

“Like the mob? Or your?—”

All I have to do is hold up my index finger, and Vito cuts off with a low chuckle. I flick what’s left of my cigarette out the window without taking my eyes off the bouncers.

“It’s too quiet. I don’t like it.” My hand’s already on the door handle when Vito shows me his phone screen.

Vito

You good?

Matias

All clear

“See?”

I try to sink back in my seat, but my muscles refuse to ease up. “I should have gone in with them. I know how to blend in.”

“You?” Vito snorts. “Please. I should have gone. ‘Cept they wouldn’t let me.”

I glance at the time on the SUV’s dash. “They should have checked in with us by now. I said hourly updates, didn’t I?”

“Jesus, just chill, okay? I’m sure they’ll…”

I spot something at the entrance, and sit forward in a rush. “Is that…?”

Grabbing the binoculars wedged into the console between us, I focus them on The Foundry’s entrance. Two bulky guys are bringing someone out of the club, hands clamped around the woman’s upper arms. She’s going along willingly, if a little unsteadily.

“Fuck…” Vito murmurs. “Is that…?”

“It’s Andy.” I’m already tossing the binoculars at him. “She’s fucking alone.”

“Shit!” Vito’s got his phone out, and in the moment of crystalized silence as I take out my Beretta and check that it’s still stuffed full of ammo, I hear a faint ringing on the other side of the line as he calls to scramble our men.

I kick open the car door, already striding to the road when Vito yells out, “You can’t just barge in there!”

Fuck that.

If my wife isn’t outside those doors by the time I get there, there’ll be a mass shooting in the headlines tomorrow.

Chapter 13

Nyx

I’ve known Liam’s dad for years, but I’ve only seen him outside the boxing club a handful of times. And never in formal wear. He looks weird as shit in a suit and tie, like he’s just come back from a wedding…or a funeral. Liam looks a lot like his dad, but Patrick’s ginger hair is starting to gray at the temples, his brown eyes almost always narrowed into a squint.

“You armed?” he asks.

I scoff. “What kind of question is that to ask a lady?”

A pair of men appear beside Patrick.

“They’re gonna search you anyways, lass.”

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