Page 64 of Sypher

Fuck, Reaper was going to have a fucking field day with that one, but that was a problem for another day.

Right now, I needed to find Dante.

“What else can you tell me?”

“Three men showed up out of the blue: Crispin Sinclair, Rowen Shay, and the intern’s brother, Silas Sharp. Intern looked shocked to see them. Tried to get away from them before Montana handed the intern over to him.”

FUCK!

Yeah, I didn’t need anyone to tell me who those fuckers were.

I already knew.

“Do you know where he’s at?”

“Looking at him right now. Gotta say, the intern doesn’t look too good.”

“You feel like having some fun?”

“Depends on what you have in mind.”

“A little mayhem, possibly some gunfire, definitely a beat down or three.”

“Had me at mayhem, kid. I’ll see ya when you get here.”

I wasted no time hailing a cab, and when the cab pulled up in front of the exclusive BDSM club, the Playground, formerly owned by two brothers in the Soulless Sinners’ Motorcycle Club and recently purchased by Crispin Sinclair, I quickly paid my fare and got out. The man was notorious in the underworld. More importantly, I already fucking knew what to expect from the man. I’d already seen what his reach could do.

Not that I gave a fuck.

All I knew was that Dante was in that fucking club somewhere and I wasn’t fucking leaving without him. It didn’t take me long to locate him. Thanks to his own fucking tech andthe tracking device I slipped into his ass the night he returned to me, I would always know where Dante was.

Did I feel guilty about LoJacking my boyfriend?

Fuck no, I did not. I needed him safe, and with all the pots I had my hand in, he could easily become a target, a way to bring me to heel, and that was something I refused to allow. So yeah, I fucking stuck a tracker up his ass, then fucked his ass raw that night.

Checking the gun at my back, I entered the club. With a purposeful stride, I entered the dimly lit club, my gaze sweeping across the smoky interior in a determined search for any indication of Dante’s presence. With the pulsating music and flashing lights providing a vibrant atmosphere, the tension that coiled tightly within my stomach remained stubbornly unaffected and unyielding. The air hung thick with the smell of stale alcohol and desperation. I knew Dante was here, somewhere in this fetid den of vice, and I was determined to get him out.

Pushing my way through the tightly packed masses of celebrating people, I noticed a hush falling over one section of the room, a curious contrast to the surrounding merriment. There, concealed within the darkness, stood a figure whose menacing presence filled the shadows with an unsettling atmosphere. Having seen his photographs, I recognized the man, and based on my research, it appeared he was the most dangerous of the three, a man notorious for his ruthless and unforgiving character. With a cold, unyielding stare, he planted himself directly in my path, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

“Turn back now, kid,” the man named Rowen Shay growled, his voice cutting through the din like a knife. “You have no business here.”

“Now, Rowen, is that any way to greet our visitor?” the man of the fucking hour, CrispinmotherfuckingSinclair in the flesh,calmly said, sitting in the booth behind his henchman. Next to him sat Dante, who refused to look up at me, while Sinclair held the end of a leash that was wrapped around Dante’s neck.

For that alone, I was going to kill that motherfucker.

On the other side of Dante sat Silas Sharp, nursing a bottle of expensive whiskey.

A wave of adrenaline washed over me, my heart pounding like a war drum, but I stood my ground. “I’m here for Dante. Let him go, and I’ll leave quietly.”

The man’s lip curled into a sneer. “Dante isn’t going anywhere. Not going to tell you again. Leave. Now.”

Ignoring the fucker, I looked at Sinclair.

“You sure you want it this way?”

“And what way is that, Mr. Franks? Young Dante belongs to my family. I only just recovered him.”

“He’s mine.”

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