Page 92 of The Club

He’s a big guy, bigger even than Dominic, and when he clotheslines me, I hit the fucking floor.

“Fuck!” he shouts. “I didn’t mean to—” He starts to crouch then backs off as I start getting up. “Goddamn it, are you okay?”

Rocco offers his hand, but I don’t want it. I get up on my own. I’m calmer now, like he hit my reset button. I can think.

“Tell me what happened.”

Rocco looks startled by my switch in mood, but he recovers quickly enough. He doesn’t react to my nudity.

“Look,” he starts, his hands up in surrender. “I’m not happy either. Dominic came to get me an hour ago. He’d heard from the Collector—”

Panic swamps me again, along with anger.

“A meeting had been set,” Rocco goes on. “He said he had to go get cash—”

“Why the fuck didn’t he wake me up? Why the fuck didn’t you go with him?”

“He wouldn’tlet me, Rafael!”

“So youfollowhim—”

“You think I don’t fucking know that? He wanted me to stay withyou! He made me swear. I called Noah—”

I grip my hair, wanting to tear it out. “Why the hell didn’t he wake me up?”

“He wanted you out of it. He wanted to secure the Collector on his own—”

“That’s such bullshit!”

Rocco’s phone buzzes on the island counter. He races to it and answers.

“Yeah?” Then, “Shit. Rafael just got called.” Then, “Are you fucking kidding me? You really think I’m going to be able to stop him without killing him? Yes. Okay.” He cuts the call. “Fuck!”

“Was that Noah?” My heart’s racing so fast that I’m dizzy. I stagger to the opening of the hallway, grabbing at the wall.

“Yes. The Collector seems to have Dominic on the pool patio. There are high walls. Noah and Dante arrived after Dominic had been taken, and they can’t see him to safely approach.”

“Fuck.” I find my phone on the floor and snatch it up.

I hurry back to the bedroom. I don’t bother shutting the door, but Rocco doesn’t follow me anyway. I scramble into my clothes and boots. I stash my phone and my knives and grab my gun, then I charge back down the hallway, nearly colliding with Rocco again.

As I race for the door, Rocco is on my heels. We leave the apartment through the service door. He grabs my jacket when I start making a wrong turn and leads the way to the elevator. Everything screeches to a jittery halt as we ride down.

“You can’t come,” I tell him. “He said alone.”

“I’ll stay back. I’ll find Noah and Dante. You have a car?”

“My bike.”

His eyes squeeze shut briefly. He’s not happy. “Don’t get too far ahead of me. I need to be able to see you.”

“That’s your problem.”

“Christ, Rafael—”

The elevator doors slide open and I run through the parking garage to my bike.

“Don’t wreck!” I hear as I cram my helmet on, swing my leg over, and bring the bike to roaring life.

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