“Close the door, Koby,” I order.
“Carter,” Broadway warns, jumping on the bandwagon, his tone pleading. “Don’t do this. Vaughn’s not under Dante’s influence. If he has solid evidence no one will get you out.”
“Donotunderestimate Michael Foley,” Dante clips.
“It’s been seven days,” I tell my men. “Vaughn’s here because he figured out who I am. And that meansHaileytold him. He knows where she is.”
“Close the door.” Dante flicks his wrist at Koby.
“You’re fucking crazy, Carter,” he snaps, letting the door bang. “If he has anything solid, you’ll end up doing time.”
“Let me worry about that.”
I’m not doing time. Even if Foley can’t brush this shit under the carpet, my father most certainly can. Rhett thinks I’m on his side and he’s as desperate to find Hailey as I am.
Even if for entirely different reasons.
Broadway pinches his nose, still not on board. Good job he’s smart. He knows when to back down. He knows he can’t sway me if Dante and I are on the same page.
With an exasperated huff, he takes a stance behind me, both hands gripping the back of my chair as we watch the cops climb to the VIP area.
Dante clicks a button on his comms system. “Let them through,” he tells the bouncer guarding the back office.
We never used to have a bouncer there but after Dante had a few interruptions while alone here with his wife and—more importantly—after the shooting a few years back, we tightened the security.
“Yes, Boss,” comes Bruno’s reply.
On the screen we see him open the door, inviting Vaughn, Jeremy, and three rookies inside. A second later, their footsteps echo down the corridor.
“Fuck... Carter, this is bad,” Ryder grits out in the corner of the room where he leans against the wall, eyes cast downward, the bright light of his phone screen illuminating his tired face. “I know why they’re here. I just found—”
He doesn’t finish.
The office door bursts open, slamming against the wall like a clap of thunder but startling absolutely no one.
So much for a grand, intimidating entrance.
Vaughn leads the charge, his bulky frame filling the doorframe as he stalks in and Iseehim. Face to face, in the soft glow of LEDs, Isee... and I don’t like it.
He looks like death itself. Dark bruises under his eyes hint that he hasn’t slept in days. His skin is ashen, hair thinning and completely gray, the wrinkles around his eyes so deep he looks fifteen years older than he is.
My insides tie into elaborate knots so fast I feel fucking sick. He doesn’t look composed. He doesn’t look calm, smug,or confident. He looks destroyed; my belief that Hailey’s alive shatters like fine china.
The atmosphere thickens, a volatile mix of hostility and unspoken threats. Vaughn’s gun shakes in his hand until he gets a better grip, pointing it directly at my head, the wrath in his blue eyes making me pause.
Those eyes... they’re so much like Hailey’s it’s uncanny. My heart squeezes while all those times I stared into her gorgeous blues flash at the forefront of my mind.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” Dante says, still sitting at his desk. He may look relaxed, but the tension winding his shoulders betrays the fact that, no matter what Vaughn thinks,heis in charge here. All hell might break loose at any moment if the cops aren’t careful. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Spare me the niceties, Carrow,” Vaughn barks, briefly snapping his eyes from me to the boss. “Though I admit, you got one thing right. This sure is a fucking pleasure.”
Jeremy stops on Vaughn’s left, lips sealed, eyes darting between Vaughn and me. The other cops take strategic spots, covering the exit, their guns drawn and pointed down.
“Carter Willard,” Vaughn denotes, pulling a piece of paper from his jacket pocket.
If not for the fear cinched around my throat, I’d have a hard time suppressing a smile. Joke’s on him, the old fucking fool...
The warrantisfake.
