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“What does Teresa look like?”

“She’s platinum blonde and average height and weight.”

“I’ll be on the lookout. She would stand out in this club full of Hispanics.”

I smiled into Morgan’s neck, happy that she was onboard with my plan. I continued the surveillance. My eyes constantly moved over the crowd, the bar, the VIP section. An hour passed with dancing, pretending to drink, and watching. Morgan played along and being around her made me more enamored with her.

We were back on the dance floor when I saw her. Not Teresa. But someone better.

She was sitting at a VIP table in the corner. A beaded curtain partially obscured her. Her dark hair fell on her shoulders. Even from a distance, I could see the harsh angles of her face. She was with two other people, a woman with long brown hair and a burly man whose back was to me.

My body tensed involuntarily, and Morgan noticed immediately.

“What is it?” She asked as her fingers tightened on my shoulder.

“Don’t look.” I murmured, spinning us so that I could keep the table in my peripheral vision. “But that woman in the corner booth sitting in VIP? Dark hair, black dress.”

Morgan silently laughed as if I’ve said something amusing. Her hand slid down to rest on my chest as she casually glanced over.

“Wait. Is that?”

I pulled her closer, lowering my voice further. “Marisol Lopez.”

Morgan stiffened in my arms. “Lonzo’s sister.”

“Yes.” I guided us into a turn that gave me a better angle of the table. “I can’t believe she’s here. Zand’s been looking for her since Lonzo disappeared.”

“Disappeared is a nice way of putting it.” Morgan muttered. “He’s dead. Your brother killed him.”

How the hell did she know that? It was clear we needed to do more talking and less fucking. Maybe not less, but we needed to have conversations with our clothes on.

“Zand killed Lonzo to protect Chanel.” I explained.

Morgan’s expression darkened. I forgot she knew Lonzo and that she’d been friends with Chanel when Lonzo was in the picture. There were so many things going on before I arrived in Chicago.

“Do you know who she’s with?” Morgan asked.

I maneuvered us again, trying to get a glimpse of the man’s face. “The woman I don’t recognize. The man I can’t see clearly.”

“I don’t want her to notice me. I never met her in person, but she probably knows what I look like if she had something to do with Craig’s death.”

Craig, the man before me that Morgan never talked much about. The dead boyfriend.

We danced for several more minutes, slowly working our way across the floor until I have a better angle on Marisol’s table. The man of Mexican descent turned slightly, and I get my first clear look at his profile. I didn’t recognize him. The other woman could be a relative. She resembled the picture of a cousin, but her hair color was different and from this distance, I couldn’t be too sure.

“The lady with Marisol could be a cousin.” I told Morgan. “The guy could be an uncle, or a cousin, maybe someone in the cartel. I’m not sure. I just know her still being in Chicago isn’t good.”

“Marisol is looking for her brother, and she’s never going to find him.”

“If Marisol is here with a cartel member, it can’t be a coincidence. Not when Teresa has been coming to the same club.”

“Do you think they’re working together?” Morgan asked, following my train of thought. “Teresa and Marisol?”

“I think there’s only one reason Marisol Lopez would be here in Chicago.” I held Morgan’s gaze. “She’s looking for Chanel. For revenge. She has to know her brother is dead if she hasn’t heard from him. I have a brother. We can’t go more than a few days without communicating.”

Morgan’s expression hardened. “How the hell did Marisol run into a vampire?”

“Teresa is here to start trouble. Who knows how long she’s been watching Chanel.” I glanced back at the table where Marisol was now leaning forward. She was engaged in an intense conversation with the man.