Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Damn,” I cursed. “Looks like I’ll need to run to the storage room for another bottle. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?” I purred, batting my eyelashes at Liam.
He leaned in, his ice-blue eyes flashing. “I could accompany you,” he growled.
“Such a naughty, naughty boy,” I said, trying to mimic his thick accent.
Liam laughed, and his smile grew deeper. Darker. “Is that a yes?”
“Not this time, handsome. I’ll be right back. You start without me,” I said, pushing the shot across the bar.
He took it but shook his head. “I’ll wait for your return.”
I winked at him and then sauntered away, knowing his eyes were glued to my ass as I went. I didn’t care. I just needed an excuse to leave the bar and go check on Richie’s room. With the empty bourbon bottle in one hand, I passed by Barbie, letting her know I was running to the private rooms. She murmured her reply as I swept from the bar area.
Once out of sight of the clients, I picked up the pace, going as fast as my too-high stilettos allowed until I reached the door of Richie’s private room. I pressed an ear to the thick door and didn’t hear a sound. No music or voices. Silence.
Eerie silence.
My pulse pounded so hard I could feel it at my temples. I wet my lips with the tip of my tongue and then pulled open the door. The red filters were still turned on, casting red-tinted light over the room. The empty room. Not only was Richie MIA, but the rest of his crew were gone, too.
I let the door swing closed behind me and wandered farther into the room. Where was everyone? I couldn’t remember Richie ever having an empty space since he’d started coming around the club. Even if he wasn’t here, his people used the room in his place.
Bottles and empty glasses littered the table in between the two low-profile couches. A few glasses also sat on the other tables sprinkled throughout the room. Most of the abandoned glasses were still half-filled—as though everyone had left simultaneously.
I set the empty bourbon bottle on the table and started stacking the glasses. Part of me was on auto-pilot and part was trying to stall while figuring out what to do. I couldn’t leave Liam hanging at the bar too long. It would look suspicious. But something nagged at me. Something in the back of my mind told me the answers were there in front of me, and I needed to look harder.
Thoughts pinged through my mind in rapid-fire, each idea considered and discarded as I continued cleaning. An unused cocktail napkin was on the table, and as I reached to snatch it up, I realized there was writing on the back. In ballpoint pen, someone had written down: 3.6.
“Three point six?” I said to myself, glancing back at the number again.
Before I could figure it out, a gush of air sounded behind me, and every cell in my body stopped working all at once, freezing me in place.
“What are you doing in here?” a harsh voice barked.
I cringed.
I forced my shoulders to retreat from where they’d bunched up around my neck and slapped a serene smile on my face before swirling around in a fluid movement to face the owner of the clipped tone.
“Evening, Mr. Dalton. I came to see if anyone needed a refill,” I replied, glancing down at the bottle on the table, praying he wouldn’t see that it was an empty prop in the fuzzy lighting. “When I realized you’d retired for the evening, I thought I would get a jump on tidying up a little bit. Are you expecting more guests this evening, or should I shut the room down for the night?”
Richie scowled at me; his expression scrunched like he’d caught a whiff of garbage. Or his own cologne.
“What’s that in your hand?” Richie asked, pointing at the napkin pinched between my fingers.
My heart rocketed into my throat, but I swallowed it back down and tried on another smile. “Just a napkin,” I replied, my voice wavering slightly. “Like I said, I was tidying up the—”
“I know what you said,” Richie interjected, his jaw tensed as he bit out the words.
I ducked my chin. “Of course.”
I kept my eyes trained on the floor in front of my pointed heels. I didn’t dare raise them back to Richie’s for fear I would give myself away. Truthfully, I hadn’t found anything incriminating. The napkin was hardly helpful. But still…I clung to it as the only shred of hope of finding Bennett. That persistent voice in the back of my head told me it had something to do with him and his sudden exit from the club.
“Get some hookers in here,” Richie snapped. “And pour me some more bourbon.”