I stop and wait, tension coiling in my gut.Finally.
Sandro’s gaze darkens, despite the sun in his eyes. “The shooter’s name is Ernesto Torres. He’s a 611 gang member. His buddy gave up a few places he could be laying low, and Rocco’s got our men out searching those.” He pauses to let me digest that before hitting me with the next bit of information. “It was also confirmed that Mac wasn’t the target. The 611 prick we squeezed, Joey Duran, he didn’t know who the target was, but said Ernesto knew he fucked up. Also said Ernesto bought a new Corvette a few weeks beforehand.”
My hands are perched on my hips as I shake my head. This isn’t adding up. “Who’s payin’ that sorta money for a bleedin’ rookie on a job like that?” I ask. “Plenty of pros out there who wouldn’t have fucked it up.”
Sandro and Gunnar share a glance. “Yeah, doesn’t really make sense to us, either. Hopefully we’ll find Ernesto today and get some answers.”
I walk them back down to the main deck, my mind reeling. But there’s also something I need to tell Sandro. After all, Sam is his employee. “By the way, I’ve hired Sam to train my dancers on the pole. Turns out she’s bloody brilliant on it. Hope that’s not a conflict for you?”
Sandro stops and cocks his head. “Dr. Sam? Really?” Then he eyes me with questions brewing that he decides not to ask. “As long as she’s available when we need her, I don’t see a problem.”
His phone buzzes. He checks it and his expression pinches with concern. “Speaking of our multi-talented doctor. Lennon’s invited her out to Salt Line tonight with her and Sloane. I tried to get them to go to The Eclipse instead, but they want something more low-key.” His mouth twists as he repockets the phone. “I’m not comfortable with the girls drinking out in public alone until we know more about this hit and who the target was. They’ll be too vulnerable, not being cautious enough.”
“Want extra guards on them?” Gunnar asks.
Sandro shoots him a sardonic grin. “I’d like my wife to be speaking to me at the end of the night.”
“I’ll go and keep an eye on the girls,” I say.
They both turn to me, their expressions a mix of surprise and confusion.
Join the club, boys. I have no idea why that popped out of my bleedin’ gob.
“I’m sure you have your hands full getting ready for tomorrow night,” Sandro says, eyeing me curiously.
Aye. I do.
I shrug. “Not much left to do. There’s a bartender I’m trying to scalp at Salt Line, anyway. Would give me a good excuse to be there. I’ll take my cousins who’ve just come from Chicago. We’ll make sure the girls make it home safe.”
“If you’re sure,” Sandro says.
I nod. “Can’t have my sister in harm’s way.”Yeah, because Lennon is the reason you opened your gob. Right.
“All right. Appreciate it.” He shoots me one last curious look before they head out.
Chapter 13
Samantha
Lennon’s driver drops us off in front of the Salt Line Tavern. There’s a second burly soldier occupying the passenger seat of the Range Rover, so we sat in the back together.
“We’ll be right outside those doors if you need us,” the soldier says as we slide out.
“Great, thanks.” Lennon rolls her eyes once we’re on the sidewalk. She slips her arm through mine and gives me a sheepish smile. “I know I should be grateful after being kidnapped, but they’re just a reminder that I’m not safe.”
I squeeze her arm. “I get it.” And I do, though I personally feel safer knowing those two are watching out for us.
I’ve curled my hair and put on one of my favorite comfy sundresses paired with sandals. Lennon’s in a green maxi dress, her hair also worn down and curled. We get some appreciative glances when we walk in.
The place is a high-class country bar with warm wood floors and accents, black iron chandeliers and strings of patio lights. A beautiful black marble bar runs the length of the back wall. They also have a reputation for the best local bands and great food. My body is buzzing with anticipation.
“Sloane’s already here,” Lennon says, grabbing my hand and waving to her friend, who’s grinning at us from a round high-top table.
Sloane hugs Lennon then introduces herself to me with a welcoming smile and handshake. Sloane’s petite with a shiny dark bob and an air of sophistication and confidence. Her makeup is flawless, her hazel eyes sparkling beneath dark lashes.
“Nice to meet you.” I return her smile.
She pats my hand, her grin growing. “Hope you’re hungry. I’ve ordered some chicken nachos and a round of Tequilla shots.” She glances behind me. “Right on time.”
