Not exactly the kind of conversation you’d have over the phone.
I look out the window at the house next door. Her car isn’t in her driveway. She’s probably at Summit, working on preparations for the soft opening, so I shoot her a quick text.
Need to talk ASAP. New info about Ryan.
While I wait for her response, I call Dylan.
“Tell me exactly what we’re dealing with,” I demand as soon as he picks up.
“It’s complicated,” he replies. “I traced the money trail back to a shell company that’s a known front for Triple Six operations in Nevada.”
“How much more time do you need getting in?”
“A day, maybe two. Their security is no joke.” He pauses. “But that’s not all.”
My grip tightens on my phone as I growl, “What else?”
“I found something weird in Ryan’s emails. He’s been in contact with someone at Triple Six for almost a year.”
“The fuck, Dylan?”
“Seems it might have something to do with Summit.”
My blood runs cold. “You think he’s trying to sell his half of the business to them to cover his debt?”
“Possibly.” I can hear him clacking away at his keyboard. “I’m still digging, but I need more time.”
“Okay. Thanks. Keep me posted, yeah?”
“I will.” He sighs. “But Jax, one more thing.”
“What?”
“I traced the burner phone’s location. It’s not in Vegas anymore.”
Something cold slithers down my spine. “Where is it?”
“Based on cell tower pings, it’s moved on from Vegas to somewhere in southern California.”
“Fuck.” I press the palm of my free hand against my forehead. “You think they could be on their way here?”
“At this point? Hard to say.”
After he promises to keep me in the loop on the phone’s whereabouts, I hang up and immediately call Sasha again, cursing when it goes straight to voicemail.
Mind racing, I snatch my keys off the coffee table and head for the door. If Triple Six does send someone to Lakeside, it could mean Ryan is no longer in the picture and they’ve decided to come after Sasha instead.
Even though I’m pushing well above the speed limit, the drive into town feels excruciatingly slow.
When I finally pull into the parking lot across the street, I spot Sasha’s car right away, and relief washes over me. At least I know where she is.
The building is buzzing with activity when I walk in. Workers are installing mirrors along one wall while others are assembling equipment as I scan the room, looking for a flash of red hair.
“Jax?”
I turn to find Noia headed my way holding a clipboard. “Hey. Where’s Sasha?”
“In her office.” She tilts her head, studying what I’m pretty sure is a crazed look on my face. “Everything okay? You look like you’re about to murder someone.”
