It was that last part, those last two words, that broke Mom.
She hasn’t spoken since.
Lightning crackles across the night sky, and the responding thunder covers the sound of my car door slamming shut.
I thought I’d be scared. Thought my hands would shake. But that void inside me has grown since Freya disappeared a week ago.
Seven days.
Seven awful days.
Mom has been catatonic.
Dad isn’t eating.
No one is sleeping.
I haven’t been back to my dorm. Haven’t been to my classes.
Finding Freya is all that matters.
And the men inside this bar know where she is.
They have to.
I tuck the keys of my Porsche into my pocket and walk across the cracked blacktop toward the front of the bar.
There’s no bouncer. No one checking IDs. It’s a shitty bar in a shitty part of town filled with shitty people. A person would have to be crazy to go in if they didn’t belong.
Crazy. Or desperate.
The front door is propped open, and I step through into the low-ceiling space filled with cigarette smoke and the scent of stale beer.
I dressed in a plain T-shirt, a dirty pair of hiking boots, and my oldest jeans, hoping to blend in, but I still feel eyes on me.
Ignoring the instinct to turn and run, I keep my head up and move toward the bar.
It’s definitely a rough crowd, but it doesn’t look like a straight gang hangout. There’s too much variety in the patrons to have them all be part of the Corsican mafia. Maybe the intel I picked up wasn’t as good as I thought. Or maybe it is. I’ll find out soon enough.
With each step I take, the tension builds in the air.
There are pool tables on my left, low tables on the right, groups of people standing where there’s space, and more standing at the bar.
A few people bump my shoulders, but I don’t react to them. I just keep moving.
I don’t know how to fight. And I don’t know what sort of weapons these guys might have. All I have is a switchblade in my pocket that I bought at a truck stop.
But I won’t let that stop me.
When I reach the bar, the bartender is already staring at me.
I stop in front of the scarred top across from where he stands.
“You lost, kid?” the old man asks.
“Not lost. Just need information.”
He huffs. “Information isn’t free.”
I take my wallet out of my pocket, fatter than usual, pull a hundred out, and set it on the bar top. “I need to know who likes to take girls from Comet.”
The bartender lifts a brow as he slides the hundred across the bar and shoves it into his apron.
“Well?” I prompt.
He lifts a shoulder. “Never heard of Comet.”
I grind my teeth. “The nightclub.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Not really my thing.”
“How about Marcoux? You heard that name before?” I keep my volume conversational, but I know I’ve hit my mark when I hear several chairs scrape against the floor at once.
That void inside me spreads as I turn, putting my back to the bar, facing off with the four men moving to stand before me.
“You got one chance to get the fuck out of here.” The man in the front of the group tips his head back so he can look down his nose at me.
I passed six feet last summer. Gained a couple more inches since. So these guys don’t have height on me. But they have muscle. I’m just a skinny nerd who spends too much time studying to work out or eat correctly.
But things are different now.
Now, I have nothing to lose.
And I’m fucking hungry.
I square my shoulders. “You got one chance to tell me who steals girls from Comet.”
The three men in back snicker, but the one who spoke first doesn’t. “You think you’re tough?”
I shake my head. “No. But I need to find my sister.”
The snickers stop.
“If your sister is gone, accept it and get gone yourself.”
I swallow.
This man isn’t going to tell me anything.
My wallet is still in my left hand. I raise it slowly, so I don’t startle anyone, and pull out the nineteen hundred dollar bills I have left.
Bribery won’t work. But I need a distraction so I can get at least one good hit in before these guys kick my ass.
“Free money!” I shout, then toss the bills into the air.
The people closest to me, who’d been watching the interaction, lunge toward the valuable pieces of paper, getting between me and some of the bad guys. But no one is blocking the leader, and he lunges for me.