Page 53 of Blood & Loyalties
A low whistle came from my side. “Looking hot!” Kiera exclaimed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down like a school kid. This was going to be a long night.
After the carpulled up to some club, Scraper held the door open, nodding to us as we exited. Kiera latched her arm around mine and strutted to the front doors. She must not have seen the line that was stretched around the building, or if she did, she didn’t care.
The bouncer immediately recognized Kiera, flashing her a dazzling smile then waving us past the throng of irritated people waiting in line. Scraper and Dune followed close behind, their eyes watchful of everything around us.
Music blared through the building, making my eardrums rattle. My eyes had difficulty focusing because the strobe lights were in full effect, flashing anywhere and everywhere. Everyone around us looked as if they were going in slow motion with every move they made. Also, the laser lights were zipping past us fast, like we were in one of those spy movies or something. Every time one came near me, I wanted to duck for cover.
Kiera led us up to the bar where a man stood about six-foot tall with shaggy, blond hair that fell into his deep navy eyes. He watched as Kiera approached, a smile gracing his heart-shaped lips. She bent over, and he turned his head, giving his ear to her. He nodded, pulled away, and pointed to the side of the bar. Kiera hopped on her heels and said something else that I tried to decipher yet couldn’t.
She grabbed my arm again and looked at Dune, who came close.
“Over there,” she yelled, and he nodded, clearing a path for us to walk through the crowd. Most people got out of the way, but there was one in every bunch.
A man wanted to show his balls were bigger than Scraper’s and Dune’s. He was only about five-six, if that, but he was clearly intoxicated since he could barely stand straight, and his walking wasn’t much better. He tried grabbing my ass, but Scraper dealt with him so fast it was over before I got a full view of what went down. I shrugged and kept going.
Dune led us to a table in front of a large stage that was currently black as night. The black, rickety chairs were filthy, and I would be surprised if they held us up the entire night. Kiera and I sat next to each other while the guys sat behind us, guarding.
I stared into the blackness, silently wishing for this to just be over with. A waitress with blonde hair and pink streaks came to the table. She bent down, giving us a nice show of her boobs that were practically hanging out of her uniform, if you could call it that. It was barely two scraps of black fabric, but whatever.
Kiera ordered a pitcher of Jamaican Cowboys, my favorite. I’d had it at a restaurant once and fallen in love. It was coconut rum, peach schnapps, triple sec, and orange and pineapple juice. It sounded tame, but it gave a hard punch after the first couple drinks. The sweetness of the fruit combined with the kick of the rum exploded on my lips.
Good for Kiera. I was in the mood to drink, to forget.
The waitress came by, and I was not at a loss for drinks as Kiera kept my glass continuously full. When the lights dimmed, four decent looking guys stepped on stage, wearing the same black pants, bow ties, and black vests. The first was young, maybe twenty, with light skin and taut muscles. They weren’t defined, though still nice. The second was built and stacked with ab after ab, definitely spent time in the gym. His eyes sparkled green with mischief. The third guy was the damn bartender we had seen when we had first come in. His eyes darted to our table, locking with Kiera’s. Oh, shit. He smiled then turned to the crowd. The last guy had tattoos on one of his arms; his brown hair was cut short to his scalp; and he carried an aura of power. It was like he owned the stage, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. What was the harm in looking?
I downed more Cowboys, my body relaxing. For the first time in months, I felt everything begin to fade away, leaving me slightly calm. My head was a bit fuzzy, but I was still in the now.
The music turned to some upbeat tempo, and the men in front of us began dancing. Women around us screamed like banshees ready for their next meal. Me, I was enjoying the silence in my head.
I continued to down the drinks, watching the hot bartender gyrate his hips back and forth seductively, all the while smirking at Kiera.
Mr. Powerful Aura made eye contact with me, grabbing my hands and raking them down his chest after he hopped down from the stage. Kiera gave me money to put in their pants, but it didn’t get me all hot and bothered. When Kiera laughed, though, it made me smile. I’d missed her, missed the fun we used to have.
The waitress filled a fresh glass for me, and I picked it up, gulping the contents. As I set the glass down, I noticed the words scrawled on the napkin in that same writing.
‘What would Jag think?’
Shit.
I gripped the napkin, my eyes darting back and forth through the crowd, but it was so packed and dark I couldn’t see a damn thing. He was there. The man trying to hurt my family was there, and I was too drunk to do a damn thing about it.
I moved quickly over to Kiera, my eyes never leaving the crowd behind me. My head started to spin, but I had to get her out of there, away from this person. Even with guards, I didn’t trust whoever it was. He had gotten way too close to me one too many times.
I leaned into her ear, my voice a bit shaky. I needed to clear it a couple of times before I could speak. “I’m feeling like shit. Let’s go.”
She took one look at me and nodded without a word. I wasn’t sure what my face portrayed, but if the fear slicing through my heart was any indication, I didn’t want to know the questions she had for me.
It had been three weeks since the last note. Too bad I wanted to think they were over with. Wishful thinking sucked ass.
Chapter Thirteen
THE FLIGHT WAS short,the mood inside the cabin pulsating. Each mile we covered only added to the tension. Vinny, Rex, Dan, Brett, a few other enforcers, and two of Rex’s men sat in silence, each one most likely contemplating what was going to happen when we got off the plane.
Rex had discovered Zan’s location was in Whiteburg, Missouri, population twelve thousand. Not a huge city, but big enough to get lost in if you didn’t want to be found. Rex’s sources had Zan narrowed down to a residential neighborhood with soccer moms and kids floating around. The take out would need to be super quiet with no mistakes.
Before we left, Rex came to me with a plan, one I agreed with and we would be following. Rex had shown me actual footage of Zan walking in and out of the house, each time looking over his shoulder in hopes we wouldn’t find him.Too bad, motherfucker. This ends today.
Exiting the plane, we had a couple SUVs waiting for us. As we drove down the roads, my pulse beat rapidly, readying to get Zan and this shit over with.
