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“He’s probably just closing up,” Celeste says when she slides a glass of water in front of me. “Hydrate so you’re not as fall-down-drunk when he gets here.”
I pick up the glass and chug it while counting the minutes. Waiting, and waiting while watching the door.
When the ding of a half a dozen devices go off at the same time, the knot of worry in my gut turns to cement.
“What is it?” I look around the room and ask the men who all jump up from their chairs or stools. “What is it?!” I yell at them getting to my own unsteady feet.
“Jordan wasn’t at the shop,” Greer says coming out from behind the bar. “His bike was there but...”
“No.” I shake my head, repeating that one word over and over again. “NO! Go find him!” I shout at the men wanting to blame them when the guilt is eating me up. This is my fault. Jordan is gone and I know who took him. He can’t kill him. He can’t!
I pick up my phone, wishing I had the monster’s number. I don’t, but I do remember my father’s.
For a long moment, I consider whether or not to call him and tell him to call off his dog, to demand that he not hurt Jordan.
“We’ll find him. We have to because Colt will kill me if we don’t,” Remy says, grim faced as he leads the group of Savage Kings out the door.
This can’t be happening. The last words I spoke to Jordan…I was so angry at him. Now I wish I could take it all back because…no. He’s going to be okay. He has to be.
As soon as they walk out, I dial the number I’ve never had to type into my phone before...and a young man’s voice answers.
“Yeah?”
“I need to speak to my father right now.”
“No kidding? I can be your daddy,” the voice says with a chuckle.
He wouldn’t dare make that joke if he knew who my father was. So, I say, “I’m trying to reach Dante Salvato.”
“Then you’ve got the wrong number, babe,” he replies before ending the call.
“Shit!” Either I’m too drunk to remember all nine digits or I have it wrong. A quick search later, and I’m calling up the reservation desk of my father’s hotel and casino.
“The Royal Palace. How may I help you today?” a pleasant feminine voice asks.
“My name is Madison Salvato and I need to speak to my father Dante Salvato.”
“Well, that’s funny since Mr. Salvato doesn’t have any children.”
My jaw drops open at her blatant lie. “Yes, he does! He has three daughters, you stupid cunt! Now find him and get him on the phone.”
There’s an indignant gasp before she ends the call. “Dumb bitch!” I huff while trying the number again, hoping I can speak to someone else, someone who knows my father has children. I should’ve asked to speak with someone in security.
My father was so overprotective that most of his employees never knew my sisters and I lived in the hotel penthouse with him, and he rarely let us leave it. But the call doesn’t even ring this time, it’s just a recording saying the person I’m trying to reach is unavailable.
That bitch blocked my number!
If I ever go back to Vegas, I will find her and kill her myself.
Jordan
Where the hell am I?
And what the fuck happened?
One second the blond bastard and I were trading punches in the garage and the next… I remember he hit me, took me to the ground. Then the asshole sat on top of me, his arm across my throat cutting off my oxygen.
And I liked it.
