WATCHING A MAN DRINK WASN’T my idea of a good time, but something kept me sitting on the bar stool beside Hennessy as he ordered his first bourbon. He hadn’t said much since he walked in the door, but words weren’t necessary.
I checked the time again. Just after seven. I wanted to get to Valentina’s before eight. The way Hennessy was staring at the bourbon placed in front of him without touching it had me wondering how long this would take. I tried Johnny three more times with no answer. Something was off.
My phone lit up with a message from an unknown number. A photo.
I opened it and froze. I’d recognize Valentina anywhere, and the sight of blood dripping from her temple sent burning fires of rage bursting through my veins.
What. The. Fuck.
A text followed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: She’s a fighter, but she ain’t getting away from us. She’ll get a bullet to the head if you don’t cooperate.
I wouldn’t panic, but I sure as fuck would rip the limbs from someone’s goddamned body for touching her. For daring to take my woman.
I closed out the message and called her phone. There was no goddamned way the FNDs had her. No fucking way.
It rang and rang until the voice mail picked up and her cheery voice answered. “You’ve got Valentina. You know what to do.”
That was the fucking problem—I didn’t have Valentina. Someone else did.
I shoved away from the bar and stalked to the corner of the room. Leaving a message was probably pointless, but I didn’t care.
“I’m gonna get you home safe. Stay strong, duchess. I love you. Just hold on, and I’ll be there. I’m coming for you.”
I ended the call and slammed a fist into the wall. How the fuck did this happen? She was supposed to be locked up safe inside her house.
Didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting her back.
My phone buzzed in my hand. A call. My first thought was Valentina. But it wasn’t.
It was another unknown number.
I answered. “This is Rix, and if you got my woman, then you’re gonna die.”
A dark chuckle met my ears. “I’m not worried about dying today, but you should be worried about how long she’ll live. She’s a feisty one. I can see the appeal. You don’t cooperate, then I’m gonna let my guys feel the appeal when they fuck her on her hands and knees, tied up and screaming for you. They like the fighters.”
He would die. They would all die.
There was no other alternative.
I didn’t care what he wanted, but I held back my threats because I needed to know where he was. The voice, I recognized. Same piece of shit who’d been running weak game for years. He’d stepped up, and now he would die. Trio, a lieutenant of the FNDs, would not live to see the sunrise. He didn’t need to identify himself because I’d recognize his rough voice anywhere.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“What I’ve wanted since you left two of my guys dead and three as good as dead. Blood.”
“Then you come after my blood, not someone else’s, cocksucker.”
He laughed, and I gritted my teeth. Hennessy was off his stool and leaning against the pool table beside me.
“Hers spills just as easy.”
“Fuck you, you want a trade? Is that what you want?” I demanded. I wouldn’t let her bleed another drop for me.
“You know I’ll take your blood any day, but tonight, if you want her back, you’re gonna bring me money too. A fuck ton of it. I know you got it. You got two hours.”
The amount he rattled off was big. So fucking big that if he’d given me a couple of days, I could get my hands on it, but not in two hours. No fucking way. Shit.
“You bring it or she dies. Slowly. Painfully. Bloody. After my guys have had their fill. Your choice.”
Rage roiled through my veins like napalm. I would destroy him.
“If anyone touches a single hair on her head, I swear to God I will gut you all like the spineless fucks you are.”
His laugh met my ears again. “I got all the cards here. Bring the money or I’ll leave her body in the gutter.”
“Where?”
The address memorized as soon as it was out of his mouth, I walked to the bar and grabbed a napkin and pen off someone’s credit card folder and scribbled it down. I wouldn’t take a single chance of getting this wrong.
It was a familiar street. On the lake. I knew the general vicinity, and it didn’t make sense for the FNDs to be setting up shop in such a nice hood. They were trash. Crack houses were more their style than lake houses.
But the step up gave credence to the rumors I’d been hearing on the street—the ones I knew Hennessy would be very interested in. The FNDs were running the drug ring he was trying to bring down, and they had to be in bed with the cartel. The only reason Trio would need to get his hands on that kind of cash was if some serious bad shit was going down and he was fucked without it.