Page 137 of Filthy Elites

The man’s eyes widen and he freezes, holding up his hands in the universal ‘I’m innocent and I mean no harm’ gesture. It only takes a moment for my face to register for him.

He drops his arms and takes a step back down the staircase. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Vikson,” he says quickly. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

I don’t bother with a reply as I continue up the stairs, taking them two at a time, never putting my gun back and especially not when I reach the landing and shove through the door into the private room I’d left Haley in. The room she should have been safe in. The room where she no longer is. Jackson was right—Troy is obviously hurt. If it were anyone else missing, someone less important, I’d give him the benefit of the doubt, but now I don’t have time for that. I go down on bended knee, slapping my gun on the hardwood floor and my phone right next to it as I lift him up by his shirt and shake him. Hard.

“Wake the fuck up!” I bellow. Blood trickles down the side of his face and Troy groans as he finally comes to. “Where is she?” I demand. “Where’s Haley?”

Troy’s eyes open, but they’re unfocused. “Sh-she … fuck, man. I’m sorry.”

“Was it Kennedy?” I demand. “Do you know where they went?”

Troy shakes his head and then pales like he wants to vomit. “No, it wasn’t Kennedy. It was some kid,” he tells me.

Some kid? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t know who he is,” Troy says sitting up. “I think they go to school together or something.” I release his shirt and move back a little—afraid that if I don’t I’ll wring his fucking neck. He scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Neither of us thought he would get violent.”

“How’d he get the jump on you?” I demand. He has to make it make sense. There’s no way a trained professional like him could be taken out by a fucking kid.

“Sheer dumb luck,” Troy says. “I hit my head too hard. I didn’t—she was … Viks…” Troy looks up at me and there’s regret in his eyes. I don’t have time for regret. I need to correct this. I need to find her.

I snatch up my phone and put it back to my ear. “Rewind the feed,” I order Jackson. “She was here.” I turn to Troy. “If she’s hurt, I’ll fucking kill you,” I warn him. Troy nods as if he expected as much.

“Holy shit.” Jackson’s voice in my ear brings me back to him.

“Did you find out where she went?” I demand.

“There’s a door,” Jackson says. “I watched a guy enter. There was a fight. Troy’s knocked out—the kid that went in dragged her out an emergency exit. Away from the railing in the corner. It looks like he hit a latch or something.”

“Where does it lead?” I demand, my legs eating up the distance as I hit the back wall. I shove my gun back in its holster and start feeling along the panels.

“Probably outside,” Jackson says. “This place used to be a warehouse. Cain would know better than me.”

“Call him,” I order. “I want to—”

“He’s here,” Jackson interrupts me. There’s a brief crackling noise over the line and then Cain Devereaux’s voice hits my ears.

“A lot of the private rooms have an emergency exit in case of a fire or a disaster or something,” he states. “Check the corner about four feet up from the floor and run your fingers along the top of that panel. There’ll be a—”

“Found it!” I grip the small handle that’s flat and practically invisible against the wall and pull. A door pops out and I curse.

Troy looks around me. “Where does it lead?”

I hand the phone to him and he presses it to his ear, I don’t hear what Cain tells him as I shove the slim door wider. Fuck, it’s not gonna fit me. I’m going to have to go sideways.

“You go this way,” Troy says, pushing me when I turn back to him. “It leads to an alley on the side of the building. I’ll meet you on the outside.”

I nod and turn to the side, shuffling into the entryway. My attention is called back a second later, though, by a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth,” Troy says as he slips my phone into his back pocket. "If she’s hurt, you can kill me with my own gun.”

“Just hurry up,” I say. I don’t really want to focus on the possibility that Haley could be … no, I shake off the unwanted and completely unneeded thought. She’s going to be fucking fine. I nod to the still open door across the room that leads back into the main part of the club. “Meet me in the alley. I’m going to get her.”

He sucks in a breath, jerks his head into a stiff nod, and then takes off. I shove myself further into the pitch black of the emergency exit.

“Wait for me, baby,” I mutter, sliding my hands along the wall. “I’m coming.”

TWENTY-THREE

Haley

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