Martina is the daughter of one of our VIPs. She’s been infatuated with me for the last eight or nine years, in spite of how crystal clear I’ve been. Again, we don’t kiss asses here. But the woman has got tenacity—I’ll give her that.
Axel breaks into laughter, at my expense. “Just steer clear of Café L’Ambroisie. She’s meeting some friends for dinner there tonight.”
I’m about to thank him when my phone buzzes in my hand, and the whole world stops spinning.
Knox: Sinclair, Canada.
There are no words to adequately express how satisfying this feels. I can hardly believe it’s real. But that’s the thing about hope. Plucking one makes another bloom in its place.
I found her. Now I need to catch her.
Axel accurately deciphers my reaction. “Location?”
Without a single breath in my lungs, I nod. “I gotta go.”
“Of course. I’ll walk with you.” He twists back to Gentry. “I’m your contact for anything Ryker handles until further notice.”
With that, we storm into the closet in the surveillance room, taking a hidden passageway to our penthouse. The entire resort has concealed tunnels, among other things. My great-grandfather opened a speakeasy, and his family line grew it into a city in the shadows.
The surveillance room isn’t far from our residence, so we’ll make it there fairly quickly. On the way, I shoot a text to the group chat I have with my brothers.
Me: Not happening, Mad. You’re still master tonight. I’m headed out.
Axel: Ryker will be off premises for a while.
Cash: Did your ship finally come in, bro?
Maddox: If you’re seeing about a girl, I suppose I can slip in there for the toast.
Axel: I’m guessing the slipping part should come easily.
Maddox: Let’s breeze on past that, Papa Axe. We’ve got more important things to discuss. Martina Nicholson was begging for the whereabouts of our very own Ryker Remington Noire. Yep, slinging the full name around. And she was panting, like a dog in heat.
Jesus.
Cash: And drooling. I told her you were celibate.
Me: The fuck?
Axel barks out a laugh that echoes around us. “Maybe it’ll finally scare her off.”
Me: Do not share personal information about me. Or get in my fucking business.
Jax: Use that inner rage to keep yourself out of the friend zone, man. Channel it.
Cash: Backfired anyway. She seemed really turned on by it. Is that something sane chicks like? I’ve never had any complaints about the expertise my experience provides.
Me: Can we stop discussing Martina and never mention her again? Tell her I’m planning on becoming a monk.
Maddox: She’d convert and build you a monastery. But onto bigger matters. Jax joined the chat with a valid point. Going to pick up your buddy, or should we expect something else to happen with our brown-eyed doe?
Cash: He’ll be out of that zone when pigs fly.
Maddox: You never know. He might go hog wild.
Jax: Too pigheaded for that.
I can’t hold back the chuckle as my head snaps up to Axel. “Do you ever feel like they’re still those obstinate teens, testing boundaries?”
