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When Lexie reaches the table, she looks alarmed.
The man says something and points to the trio on the dance floor. She zeroes in on them and nods. The Czech inches the cocktail toward her. She smiles that phony, practiced one and shakes her head.
“Fuck,” Zé grumbles.
The Czech picks up the drink and appears to be cajoling her.
“Jesus Christ. Take it already so we can end this.” Xavier’s clean out of patience. We’re too damn close to drop the ball now, and it’s making everyone prickly.
The Czech is insistent about her taking the drink. “Zoom in on their mouths,” I growl. “Let’s see if we can figure out what the bastard is saying to her.”
“It’s hard to be sure, but I think he just said something like, ‘Come on. Don’t put a damper on the party,’” a woman behind me mutters.
When I get my hands on him, I’m going to put a huge fucking damper on his party, right after I yank that asshole’s tongue out of his mouth.
He’s wearing her down. I feel it. “Get prepared to move on my signal. We take all five at once. I don’t need to remind you that the club is filled with guests. The petite brunette and the blonde are victims. Make it look easy.”
I might be the guy with all the power, but standing here, watching that bastard play her, I’ve never felt more powerless. Not since I was a young boy.
Lexie hesitates for a long moment before reaching out her hand to take the drink from him. I watch her fingers unfurl with bated breath. If she changes her mind, we’re back to square one. But it’s not the worst thing. We don’t know what he slipped in her drink, and the very worst thing is if she takes a sip before we reach her.
“Ms. Clarke is not to get that glass anywhere near her mouth,” I growl into the earbuds.
As much as we need her to take that drink from him, I can’t believe she’s reckless enough to actually do it. I warned her and Valentina countless times when they were in college, and before, and after, to never take a drink from someone they didn’t know well. Actually, I warned them never to take a drink from any guy who wasn’t me.
“That’s it,” Zé murmurs. “Go ahead, Alexis. Take the fucking drink.”
This is making me sick.
As soon as Lexie’s fingers wrap around the glass, I bark into the microphone. “Go, go, go. Don’t let your guard down. We don’t know who else might be in the club that we haven’t identified.”
I don’t watch the takedown unfold. The last words aren’t out of my mouth when I bolt from the room and down the stairs like the place is engulfed in flames. Zé calls my name, but I don’t stop, not until I get to Lexie, who is surrounded by security.
She stares into my face with a staggering fragility that makes my chest clench. It’s not a look I’ve ever seen from her. Not once. The color is gone from her cheeks, and she’s teetering on heels that are too damn high. I hold her arms to steady her.
For a moment, her hazel eyes are pale green. For a moment, her guard is down, and she’s shaken. But it’s merely a fleeting moment that passes before her irises darken and the sparks begin to form. After another moment, I see the spitfire emerge, and it won’t be long before the artillery is aimed squarely at me. Honestly, it’s a relief.
I was wrong about her. So wrong. Bought the bullshit she’s always peddling about having the biggest balls in the room. An ice princess—completely untouchable. I wanted those fuckers so bad, I took a risk—with her—that I shouldn’t have taken.
The tainted cocktail is in Sabio’s hand. “Make sure they preserve that drink,” I tell Zé, who followed me to the floor. “It needs to stay in camera range at all times so that there aren’t chain-of-custody issues.”
Lexie looks more like herself, but she’s still too damn pale. And she hasn’t said a word.
“Get me a bottle of water,” I tell no one in particular.
“Everyone’s been secured without incident,” Xavier says from behind me.
I nod, but my gaze doesn’t stray from the woman who’s so close I can smell the amber in her perfume.
Carlos holds out a bottle of water, and I unscrew the cap and hand it to Lexie, who takes several gulps.
“You’re safe, for now. But you have a fair amount of explaining to do.”
“Where’s Francesca?”
That’s the first thing you have to say? It surprises me, although I’m not sure why. She’s very protective of Valentina, who’s always been a bit more naive, and whenever she’s with Antonio’s kids, she’s like a camp counselor.
“We have her. She’s safe too. What are you doing in Porto?”
