Page 59 of Turmoil's Target

My mind races as I try to figure out our next move.

Confronting them head-on is out of the question, not with this many people around.

But we can’t just sit here twiddling our thumbs either, waiting for them to make a move.

“We need to get out of here,” I mutter under my breath, leaning in closer to Damon. “Draw them away from the crowd.”

Damon nods, his jaw clenched tight. “Agreed. But we gotta play it cool, act like we don’t suspect a thing.”

Easier said than done, especially with the way my heart is pounding against my ribcage.

I force myself to take a deep breath, schooling my features into a mask of casual indifference.

“Jolt and I will head out first,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Give it a minute, then follow behind. Make it look like we’re just a bunch of buddies saying our goodbyes.”

Jolt shoots me a look, his brows furrowed in concern. “You sure about this, man? We don’t know what we’re walking into out there.”

I clap him on the shoulder, mustering up a confident grin. “Come on, brother. When have I ever steered you wrong?”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You really want me to answer that?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, I can’t help but chuckle.

Leave it to Jolt to crack a joke in the face of danger.

“Fair enough,” I concede, pushing back from the table. “But we’ve got this. Just stick to the plan and watch my back, yeah?”

He nods, rising to his feet beside me. “Always, brother. Always.”

As we make our way toward the exit, I can feel the suits’ eyes boring into my back.

Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to grab Jolt and run like hell, but I force myself to keep a steady pace.

We make our way out into the hot Las Vegas sun, yet the weight of the suits’ gazes on our backs reminds me the kind of life I’m living.

This is another reason it could never work with Seraphina.

These are the things I need to remind myself.

She is just my fucking job.

She’s a means to an end, someone I needed to get close to for the club.

The only problem? I have to remind myself my heart and my head are two different beings.

My muscles tense, ready for a fight, but I force myself to keep my stride casual as we continue further into the parking lot.

As we make our way toward the Mustang, these two still continue following us.

I turn, my hand instinctively reaching for the gun I’m not carrying. “Can I help you, gentlemen?”

The taller of the two smirks, his eyes cold and calculating. “No, I think I have everything I need.”

Something in his tone sets my teeth on edge. I take a step forward, squaring my shoulders. “And what exactly would that be?”

The man’s smirk widens, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, he glances at his partner, a silent communication passing between them.

Shit.

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