Page 3 of Hostile King

I glare over my shoulder and find his brow furrowed like I’ve lost my mind. If I can’t find her, I swear I’ll lose more than my sanity.

“Get André,” I bite out, refusing to stop. “We need to talk.”

Rolling out the tension in my shoulders, I aim for the restroom like a launched rocket locked on target.

“Carina…” I don’t knock, simply barging inside, not caring for anyone’s privacy. She’s my only concern. My priority. So, when all I find is a porcelain basin, an empty claw foot bathtub and a toilet, my heart momentarily forgets to beat, and my body heat freezes to glacial.

Fuck!

By the time I’ve slammed a ruthless fist into the wall and kicked the door open into the hallway, André and Matheus are waiting.

“What the fuck, Tommy?” André drags a hand over his scruff and pats his jeans to locate a pack of smokes.

“She’s not in there, is she?” Matheus pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck! I’m sorry, Tommy.”

I’m beyond incensed. Tonight was meant to run without a hitch. We were in control and now every guest is a suspect with a life sentence wrapping their treacherous necks.

I have to find her.

To keep her safe.

To protect her from the very people I’d flaunted her in front of.

What else did I expect?

She’s fucking stunning. Every man here wants to touch her, to claim her, to hack off her wings and chain her to the underworld. Not on my watch. I would murder every cunt here if a single hair on her hair has been ruffled by any of them.

“Find her,” I growl. “Spitfire asked to speak to Shane. He took Gio for back up. Let’s go.”

“Well, fuck.” André checks for his gun. “So much for a show of faith. I’ll kill these motherfuckers if they’ve betrayed us.”

With me leading the pack, we march towards the entrance hall, each of us exuding an aura of murder. We pass efficient waiters who tell me they haven’t seen her. My thoughts spiral out of control, leaving the realm of rationality and soaring straight to the worst-case scenario—she’s been kidnapped.

No one can leave without my say so. The whole plantation is on lockdown as of right now.

“Tomás.”

When I hear my name being called, I slam to a halt, spin on my heels, and face a guy I haven’t met in person yet. General Herrera’s new sidekick.

He’s a few inches shorter than us with a casual attitude that flares my hackles. If he’s responsible for fucking with Carina, or even setting a single finger on her, I’ll squeeze his damn throat until his eyeballs pop out.

“You’re Paco, right?” My voice stays ice cold. “You’re here with the General.”

“Indeed.” He cricks his neck, crossing over the tiled floor until he’s beside André. “Are you looking for that girl of yours?”

My girl.

My heart levitates. “You got something to tell me, Paco?” The words grind between my teeth. “Start talking.”

Reflexes have me reaching for my gun, my mind scrambled with fury. Rather than show him I’m armed, I graze the cold steel and seek refuge in the fact it’s there ready for when I need it.

Silence chokes me before he confesses, “I saw her. She asked if I knew how to get to your father’s tomb. I thought it was an odd thing to ask.” He raises an eyebrow and contorts his mouth. “Maybe you should look there?”

I don’t trust the fucker. Matheus catches my eye, clearly sensing the same bullshit as I do.

“If you’ve hurt her, I’ll snap your neck and shove your head so far up your ass that they’ll have no choice but to bury you like that.” My sharp tone cuts through the heated atmosphere like a razor blade. “Dré, don’t let anyone leave this house.” I keep my glare fixed on Paco. “Mat, find Mama and stay with her. Shoot any son of a bitch who tries to get near her.”

A lance of worry spears my chest. It makes my hand jolt, curling my fingers around the revolver. Bringing it into the mix of testosterone and adrenaline, I jab the air in front of Paco. “You’re coming with me.”

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