If that happened, I’d let her stay. She owed me nothing and I wouldn’t take more from her than she’d already given. If this was going to work—if we were going to make a life for ourselves and have something I never dreamed of wanting or needing—then she’d have to be in it with me.
Uncertainty swirled around me, but I battled it away. This wasn’t the moment for self-doubt. I had to believe that she wanted me to come in there and take her away, that she wanted me as much as I wanted her, and do what I could to make that happen.
I checked my watch—one minute. I stood there waiting, counted off thirty seconds, then started toward the building.
It was probably a bad idea, walking toward an explosion. I realized that halfway there, but it was too late to turn back. One guy in a black shirt and black pants spotted me and frowned, but he seemed to recognized the symbol on my chest as I approached. He looked like he wanted to say something, opened his mouth to call out—
But an explosion rocked the street.
I cursed and nearly fell off my feet. The smell of fire, ozone, and smoke burst up into the air. Shouts and screams pierced the night as car alarms blared up and down the block. I stifled a joyous laugh as people scattered in fear.
Aldrik did it. The whole block hadn’t gone up, but that was one hell of an explosion, and I could only imagine what the front looked like. Bastard Leone family deserved it, and I could only hope that it was burning down that ostentatious crystal chandelier.
The guy in all black turned from me and ran inside. He reached into his jacket pocket for something as he disappeared, and I realized he must’ve been security. I followed him, slipping through a mob of confused employees, and stepped into a short hall that opened into the kitchen.
I heard more shouting as people ran all over. I spotted several cooks crouched down under counters, looking horrified. I couldn’t blame them—probably some of them remembered the last time the place was attacked, and maybe they thought that their lives were in danger.
I spotted one guy huddled in a small broom closet to my left. He was skinny, pale skin, blue eyes, wearing a white apron and a tall hat—probably a pastry chef or some shit. I walked over and grabbed him by the lapels, yanking him from the closet, and threw him into the wall. He gasped in surprise and pain, throwing his hands up.
“I’m looking for a girl,” I said through clenched teeth. “Pretty, just came in yesterday.”
“I don’t know— we don’t see—” He stuttered, eyes wide.
I hit him in the face, not so hard that it would knock him out, but hard enough to hurt. Several of the other cooks gaped at me with open shock, but I didn’t have time for them.
“Someone came in yesterday.”
“We sent up food,” he gasped, cringing away from me. “Second floor. I don’t know which room. They don’t tell us anything.”
I grunted and scanned the room. I looked back at him and he pointed, flinching away from me, toward a staircase in the far left corner of the room. I smiled, thanked him, and strode over toward it.
As I reached the bottom, a guard in all black came down toward me. I cursed as he looked at me, frowned, and looked over at the kitchen guy I just roughed up.
“He attacked me!” the kitchen guy screamed.
I rolled my eyes and darted forward. The guard stumbled back, clearly not ready as I bowled into him, slamming my shoulder into his chest and knocking him off his feet. I kicked him in the ribs hard then reached down into his hip holster and ripped out his gun. His body jerked as I squeezed off two shots, blood spraying against my legs and feet.
Someone screamed and the kitchen emptied as everyone ran.
I stepped over the dead guard. I hoped the sound of those two shots hadn’t been loud enough to alert the whole place, but I couldn’t be sure. I crept up to the first landing, listened, then went around the corner. I finished climbing to the second floor and peered down a long, fashionably decorated hallway with thick, plush rugs, wood paneling on the walls, and a scattering of oil paintings and statues.
There were multiple doors leading into at least ten different rooms. I heard more shouting from the other end of the hall, and I guess that was the front of the building. I hurried up and began walking, staying close to the wall, the gun held at my side and slightly behind me so that someone coming the other way wouldn’t see it at first glance.