“It’s okay,” she said, although she’d rather have talked to him—anything to distract herself.
She grabbed her phone from her pocket and found the number Miller had called her from. What could it hurt to try calling it again? She hung up when she got the voicemail message again, biting her lip to keep from crying out in disappointment.
As they sat there silently, she grew more and more tense. Her stomach was tied up in such a knot that she thought she might throw up.
Aedan put his phone away. “Again, I apologize. I have business interests overseas, so I keep some odd hours.”
“It
’s all right, not like we’re on a date,” she joked.
“Would you like a drink?” he asked. “They could be a while yet.” He opened a small fridge.
“A bottle of water would be great,” she said gratefully. She took a few sips. “Do you think they’re okay? I mean, shouldn’t they be back by now? They’ve been gone for ages.”
Aedan looked at his watch. “It’s been twenty minutes.”
“Is that all?” It felt like hours. “Maybe we should check on them, though.”
What if Dylan was hurt? Oh God, she would never forgive herself for dragging him into this. And what about Rogan? He seemed like he could take care of himself, but this wasn’t his fight. He’d only agreed to help because of Dylan.
“This was a bad idea, I should have handled it myself,” she muttered.
“Sweetheart, you’d have been a lamb to a slaughterhouse. Trust me, nothing is going to happen to them. Rogan and Dylan can take care of themselves. Besides did you see the size of Cillian, Rogan’s bodyguard? No one would be stupid enough to mess with him.”
“Okay, I know you’re right. I’m just scared.”
His phone buzzed and he pulled it out, looking annoyed. He turned it to silent.
“You can take the call, I don’t mind.”
He shook his head. “No, that was one call I really don’t want to take.”
“Old girlfriend?” she guessed.
“Something like that.”
She didn’t press any further. Aedan started typing on his phone furiously and she gazed out the window into the darkness of the street. The limo was surprisingly well lit inside. But outside was a different story. It was dark and gloomy, just adding to the trepidation she felt as she waited for Dylan and Rogan to return.
Suddenly the door to the limo opened and she squeaked, jumping.
***
Dylan stood behind and to the right of Rogan. Across the table from him sat Iker Florez, the leader of the Vipers. Rogan had given him some background information before they’d left the house. Florez had fought off countless attempts to overthrow him with a ruthlessness that made Dylan ill. There was very little Iker wouldn’t do to make money, including getting young girls hooked on drugs and forcing them into prostitution to pay off what they owed.
They never bought their way out.
Dylan worked hard to keep his disgust from his face. Rogan had warned him to remain calm and impassive.
“New bodyguard?” Iker asked, looking up at Dylan.
“Yes,” Rogan replied.
Iker nodded after he’d run an assessing eye over Dylan. “So, this about Fizz? You finally changed your mind?”
Rogan shook his head. “No, I don’t want that shit on my streets.”
“Your loss.” Iker shrugged, but Dylan could see he was annoyed. His gaze turned calculating. “I hear the Seven Sinners struck a deal with the Fuerte cartel. They’ll be wanting more territory to offload their product.”