I tilt my head and glance behind Quinn. There’s a single door leading to a bathroom stall. The door is slightly open so I get a glimpse of the interior. I can tell just by looking that there isn’t a window. I misjudged it. This place doesn’t have a rear escape route. Dante doesn’t care if I know. He chose this place because it only has one way out. I bet it’ll be hard to climb up those stairs toward the exit if you’re running away from someone.
Her gaze darts behind me, eyes widening.
“What?” I ask her.
“Someone else has come in the bar and he looks like he wants to kill you, right after he fucks your brains out of course. Is that who I think it is?”
I don’t look behind me.
I don’t have to. In the mirrored tiles behind the seating of the booth we’re in, I can see the outline of a guy coming down the last of the metal steps, stepping into the bar. His clothes suggest he has more money than sense. His pretty face has me sighing inside.
It’s fucking Jude.