He forced himself to look—measured, unhurried—over the room, paying attention to the corners and shadows. That was when he saw him. Leaving the rear hall, adjusting his trousers, smoothing his jacket, and heading toward the bar like nothing had happened.
“I’ve got eyes on him,” Rhys said quietly into his comm.
“Repeat?”
“He was in the toilet. It isn’t Gray Jacket,” he bit out, his voice rising, drawing curious looks.
Michael cut in again. “Confirmed. Craig Adams. An out-of-towner. Current residence Los Angeles, California.”
There was a chorus of curses from the others and Leland’s frustrated growl. Rhys wanted to do the same, but he locked it down and strode for the door.
***
Dev drove her home. Not because Gaby couldn’t. Because neither he nor Rhys trusted the outcome of tonight enough to let her leave alone.
By the time Dev parked in front of their townhouse, it was two fifteen in the morning.
They climbed out in silence. Gaby’s nerves still hummed unpleasantly beneath her skin. Her body still undecided if it should shake or shut down. The wrongness of the scene still clung to her, landing harder than the flogger ever had.
The front door opened before they reached it. Rhys stood framed in light spilling from the entryway, sleeves rolled to his forearms, tension carved into every line of his body.
His gaze found her instantly. The composure she’d been holding onto during the drive gave out. She crossed the remaining distance fast and went straight into his arms.
Rhys caught her immediately, one arm circling her waist while cradling her head with his free hand. She pressed against him hard enough to feel the thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt. He was everything she needed right now—solid, steady, safe.
His lips brushed her temple. “You’re all right,” he murmured. It wasn’t a question. He needed the reassurance of the words as much as she did.
Gaby closed her eyes briefly and breathed him in.
Behind them, Dev shut the door softly.
“Any sign of him?” Rhys asked over her head, though his attention never left her completely. His hand continued moving slowly through her hair in calm, repetitive strokes.
“None,” Dev replied. “Rafe stayed on her the entire route. No tails. No secondary vehicles.”
Rhys nodded once.
The rigidity in his frame eased fractionally now that she was physically in front of him instead of somewhere in the city serving as bait for a predator. Hers did too.
“I’ll leave you two to your delayed aftercare,” Dev said quietly.
Gaby made a soft sound against Rhys’s chest before lifting her head. “What’s next?”
Dev turned at the door to answer her. “We keep at it. Could’ve been the wrong night. Wrong club. Wrong timing.”
Rhys’s jaw tightened faintly. “It’s been seven months since Anna. If the pattern holds, he’ll need to hunt again soon.”
“Yeah.” Dev rubbed a tired hand over his face. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He halted and let out a low laugh. “Rather, later today. Hell if I know anymore. The days are all starting to run together.”
That Nick Devlin was actually human earned the faintest breath of amusement from Gaby.
Dev pointed toward Rhys. “Get her upstairs before she crashes standing up.”
“I was planning on it.”
“Tonight was rough. I know—”
“But worth it if we find him before he finds his next victim,” Gaby finished for him.
