My phone vibrates across my desk, and I answer without checking who’s calling. It doesn’t matter at this point, I have to take any call coming through just in case it’s something useful.
“This is Colten,” I say.
“Colten, it’s Nico Sinclair. I heard Lexi is missing. Anything I can do to help?”
“How the hell did you hear that?” I snap.
“Word moves quick in Mafia circles, you know that. Now, what can I do? You need more manpower? I have my jet on standby if you need it.”
I consider his offer for long seconds. We are still short on men after weeding out all the rats a few months ago.
“What do you want in return?”
He chuckles. “Nothing. Lexi is a good person. It only took one dinner to realize that, and men like me need all the good karma we can get.”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “If you’re willing to help, we would appreciate anything you can give us.”
“You got it. We’ll be wheels up in fifteen.”
“You’re coming too?”
“Yep. Things are quiet here in Vegas right now, so I might as well lend a hand too.”
The call ends, and I turn my attention back to the tracker. He’s been driving around the warehouse district for the last ten minutes, which means one of two things. Either he’s lost and can’t figure out where he needs to be, or he knows we’re following him and he’s trying to lose the tail.
Or maybe it’s both.
FORTY-NINE
LEXI
He let me walk as far as the car before I had a needle stuck in my neck, and consciousness fell away before the trunk even closed on me, which was a blessing as much as it was a curse.
On the one hand, the hours I spent in a trunk when I was kidnapped in college were more than enough to give me nightmares for the rest of my life, so not having a new memory to add to that is a win. But on the other, I have no idea where I am or how long I was out for. I don’t know if he violated me or if he just threw me in this room and left.
I have no idea, and that’s fucking terrifying.
It takes longer than I would like for my mind to come back to my body, but I remain perfectly still until I have use of enough of my body to fight if needed.
Another lesson from Colten.
Play dead for as long as you need to regain your strength. The longer you’re weak and useless, the more the assailant will underestimate you, giving you an edge.
It’s not an exact science, but it’s logical enough that I’m rolling with it.
Whatever he drugged me with was strong as hell, and the nausea rolling around my stomach is no joke, made worse every time I try to open my eyes.
I spend a few minutes listening for any sign of movement, but when I can’t pinpoint anything, I roll over, keeping my eyes firmly closed.
Someone may be watching me, or there could be cameras, so making the move look like a natural part of sleep will continue the narrative I’m trying to portray.
It’s another five minutes before I brave opening my eyes, because not only am I uncertain of my surroundings, I also need to prepare myself for the pain.
Starting with one eye, I crack it open and do my best to ignore the throbbing pain it ignites in my skull.
Holy fucking Jesus, that hurts.
Once the stars clear from my vision, I realize I’m in what appears to be a cell. The steel door on the other side of the room is closed, and I’m alone, a fact that sets me on edge as much as it comforts me.
