“Logan?” she finally says.

“Yeah?”

Abby switches her footing and that causes a sense of dread to coil in my stomach. This isn’t the girl who’s unsure of anything. “I was told not to work tonight.”

“Told? By who?”

Abby purses her lips waiting for me to catch up and my muscles in my shoulders tighten when I do. Whoever she works for informed her she should stay home.

“Why? And why the fuck are you out if you were told to stay in?”

“I wasn’t told to stay in, I was told not to work, and you’re missing the point. In the end, it was all really more suggestions. Anyhow, I just happened to notice more people on the other side of the fence here than I noticed people on my side and, truth is, there shouldn’t be either. This area of town has always been neutral territory and it’s not where I do transactions. Interviews? Yes. Transactions, no. There’s something going down and I’m not confident walking down dark streets together is a great plan.”

I readjust the hat on backwards on my head and glance around as if I can spot her monsters lurking in the shadows. “How do you want to handle this?”

She taps her fingers against her leg. “You should leave, and I’ll call my boss for instructions.”

Yeah, that’s not happening and the glare I give her says that without me opening my mouth.

Abby’s squishes her hands in the air like she’s holding a puppy. “Jesus, you’re even sexier pissed and I seriously can’t wait to get your shirt off. I’ve been dying to peruse your abs for weeks. So here’s the plan—I’ll stay here, you get the truck, pick me up at the front door, and then we’ll do a couple of switchbacks. You know, to make sure no one’s tailing us.”

She’s saying the right words and she wears this innocent expression, but Abby can spin stories like a spider building a web.

“I’ll call West and Isaiah,” I counter. “We’ll stay put, and they’ll swing by to pick us up so we don’t have to leave the club.”

“Isaiah won’t show. He’s adamant about staying out of my professional obligations.”

“West will show.”

Her mask dissolves. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Then come with me. Now.”

Abby’s fingers tap her leg again and she does that thing where she’s scouring the club for her enemies. “Get the truck, call me the moment you’re outside with wheels, and then we’re out of here.”

There’s no innocence, no tease, just a dead seriousness that I’m going to have to accept. “You better be here when I get back.”

Abby steps into me, and presses her palms against my chest. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

Problem is—I don’t.

Abby winks then slips back into the crowd. I examine the room. Trying to see if anyone follows, if anyone has a sign pointing them out as a threat. Part of me wants to dash for the truck to get her out ASAP, the other part wants to trail her, but I made myself a promise that I was done chasing.

She kissed me, I kissed her back, but if she wants to hang with me, she’ll stick with the plan. As I exit the club, I’m not a man full of confidence in bringing home the girl. I’m a man wondering how bad this will get before the night ends.

Abby

I’m against the wall, near the entrance and I’m doing my best Navy SEAL as I count the game pieces in the room. Stupid me. I should have caught on faster. Should have seen the strategy being formed, but I was caught up first with the narc and then with Logan.

Rule number three: don’t allow any distractions.

Dad ought to be proud of me. I’ve done nothing but surround myself with distractions over the past few months.

Two of Ricky’s guys are in the crowd. Both of them have made eye contact with me from across the room, but neither has approached, which means the situation we’re in is as bad as it gets. Tommy is the one who meets my eyes the most. He’s the protégé of the only guy I trust in Ricky’s organization, so at the moment, that makes Tommy my tightest alliance.

Tommy’s all mouse-brown hair and sharp angles. It’s easy to see why Linus picked him to mentor like my dad chose to mentor Linus. Tommy flashes four fingers and I tip my head to let him know I understand. There are four of Eric’s guys here that he’s made—possibly more. Eric is Ricky’s greatest enemy on the streets.

All around us are people way too young to become casualties of other people’s, specifically my, bad decisions.

I texted my safe word and location to the anonymous number, following protocol. Now I wait. For a reply from Mr. Anonymous, or a text from Logan saying he’s outside, and my stomach twists. If he texts or calls, I should ignore him and not drag him deeper into this nightmare than he already is, but at the same time, I don’t need Logan trying to save the day if I don’t answer and getting himself killed. Because that would seriously piss me off and make me possibly cry and I fucking hate crying.

I wait longer than I would have thought for either response then another buzz:

In my truck. You still in the club?

Yes.

Stay put. I’m coming to get you.

Right as I go to respond, another buzz and it’s not Mr. Anonymous and it’s not Logan. It’s unlisted, unknown and it’s numbers. Fear turns violent and becomes a sharp pain in my chest. It’s a code given to me by my father and it means the foundation on which I’m standing is crumbling.