The second the van pulled off…
It hit me.
The pain.
Sharp this time.
I grabbed my shoulder, teeth clenching.
“Shit…”
My guy, Jones, looked back at me.
“You good?”
“No,” I said flatly.
I rolled my shoulder slightly?—
Bad idea.
Pain shot down my arm immediately.
“Yeah… that’s broke,” I muttered.
I leaned back against the seat, breathing through it.
Still couldn’t hear out my right ear.
Left one picking up just enough.
“Don’t take me home,” I said after a second. “Take me to the Ritz.” I had a permanent residence there.
“Yes, sir.”
I looked out the window, watching the city blur past.
Mad as fuck…
My mind was moving faster than the car.
“And keep eyes on my house all night, and the hotel,” I added. “Every angle. I want everything watched.”
“Already on it.”
Good.
$$$$$
We pulled up to the Ritz twenty minutes later.
They got me inside fast.
Private elevator.
Top floor.
Room already secured.
