Page 61 of Turmoil's Target

But, we didn’t do that. We fucked up, and now we’re going to have to deal with the consequences.

All we can do is hope that this little altercation doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.

Damon fixes us with a hard stare, his jaw ticking with barely suppressed fury. “We’ll deal with this shit,” he bites out, his voice low and dangerous. “But right now, you two need to get your asses back to Vegas and act like everything is normal. Hopefully, nothing bad will come of this shit.”

I nod, knowing better than to argue.

Jolt looks like he wants to say something, but I shoot him a warning glance, and he wisely keeps his mouth shut.

We move toward the Mustang, our steps hurried and tense.

As I slide behind the wheel, I can feel the weight of Damon’s gaze on my back, heavy with disappointment and frustration.

The engine roars to life, and I peel out of the parking lot, leaving Sandy Valley and the Idle Spurs Tavern in my rearview mirror.

Beside me, Jolt is uncharacteristically quiet, his brow furrowed as he stares out the window at the passing desert landscape.

I know he’s probably beating himself up just as much as I am, but there’s no point in dwelling on it now.

We have a job to do, and we can’t afford to let this little hiccup throw us off our game.

I need to focus on Seraphina, she’s my job.

My grip tightens on the steering wheel.

I need to get more information out of her and fast.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Seraphina

I glance at my phone as it buzzes on the marble countertop.

Mom.

Why is she calling me at this hour?

I set down my cup of Earl Grey and answer. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Her crisp British accent cuts through the line. “Seraphina, darling. I’m back in town and I need to speak with you immediately. Come to the office at the casino.”

I trace the edge of the teacup with my manicured nail, pursing my red lips. “What’s this about, Mum? I thought you weren’t due back until next week.”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Just get over here right away. It’s urgent.” She hangs up before I can protest further.

I sigh and slide off the bar stool, my Louboutin heels clicking on the white marble floor as I head to the bedroom to change.

Nothing good ever comes from my mother summoning me like this.

But I have no choice but to obey.

Minutes later, I’m in my sports car zooming down the Strip toward the glittering lights of our family’s crown jewel—the Bellagio casino.

I pull around back to the private VIP entrance and hand my keys to the valet before striding inside, smoothing my black Chanel skirt suit.

The elevator whisks me up to the executive offices on the top floor.

As I enter the outer office, my mother’s secretary, Janice, looks up from her computer with a wary expression.

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