I stopped mid step. “What does it matter?”
“It doesn’t. I just don’t know which car is yours.”
It couldn’t be true.
Did Morgan do this?
He couldn’t have.
He wouldn’t have.
He said I could go.
But he didn’t want me to go.
Who the hell was I kidding?
Even if he had forbidden it, I would find a way to be there.
“Johnny, did Morgan call you today?” I narrowed my eyes as my nostrils flared.
“Well, um. No,” he whispered.
“Fuck. Seriously. You’re both working against me.”
“No!” Johnny yelled. “Race, he just doesn’t want you to get hurt. I don’t know what kind of trouble you’re in.”
“Stop.”
“But—”
“Johnny, I’m a grown woman. I’ve always dealt with my problems, and I’ll do it again. No one is ever going to tell me no. Keys are with the security guard. I’ll text you the address, and I drive a BMW Alpina B6. It’ll be the one with the flat tire.”
“Race, I don’t think you should—”
I didn’t hear the rest of his statement. I hit end on the screen, hanging up on Johnny.
Morgan’s a fucking asshole.
I should’ve known he’d pull some shit to make sure I couldn’t be there. I knew I could never trust a man. They all thought they knew what was best.
I only had one thing to do. I’d call a cab and go directly to the meeting location. Fuck them all. I’d get my tape back myself and show the guys that I didn’t need them after all.
After I’d left my keys with security, I went outside to wait for the taxi. I paced, becoming more pissed with each passing second.
Morgan DeLuca was going to pay—right after I helped to bring Tyler O’Shea down and retrieved my video.
I had my best friend in my purse, my Beretta PX4.
Tyler would give me that video.
Anything to save my career.
I’d have to deal with Morgan another day.
He’d wish he’d never met me by the time I was done with him.
Just as I tossed the gun back in my purse, the taxi pulled in.
