Page 63

Trey

The ugly-ass fancy carpet silences my heavy pacing steps just outside the bathroom door.

“You're babying her,” Tank snarls from where he's lounging on one of the two sitting chairs across the room.

“And you're being an ass,” I snap back, curling both hands into tight fists.

His eyes follow the movement, and a smirk tugs at his lips.

“You wanna fight?”

“No. Yes.” Leaning back against the wall, a quiet thump sounds when my head hits the drywall. The door to the bathroom whooshes open, a billow of hot, wet air pouring through. I cautiously watch as Randi steps into the bedroom, fingers fidgeting with the sash of the thick, oversized white robe.

Her throat bobs. Red-rimmed eyes meet mine before sliding to Tank.

“I'm sorry for my behavior,” she says. Rolling her shoulders, she straightens her spine. “You're right, both of you.”

“You need to let others help you, Randi,” Tank says. “All this wouldn't be too much if you let other people help you every once in a while.”

With a sigh she moves toward the bed and perches on the edge.

“It's tough, you know. It feels like everything would be easier just to do it on my own, to make sure everything gets done.”

“Never said it would be easy, but you have to keep trying.” Tank sighs and rubs a hand over his bald head. “Now come on. Your food’s in the living room, and we need to talk about the information in that envelope from last night.”

Her brows shoot up in interest. When she takes a step toward the door, following Tank, I reach out, snagging her wrist and tugging her to a stop. Hazel eyes meet mine, a small, sad smile pulling at her lips. She tucks a few wet locks of hair behind her ear and clears her throat.

“It'll be okay, Mess.”

“I know,” she says. “Or I hope, I guess. Come on, I'm starving.”

Her forced fake smile pierces my heart with the uncertainty and sadness behind it. I allow her to tug me along, and we walk into the living room. Releasing her wrist, I position myself in the corner where I can see every angle of the room. The savory smells intensify after she yanks the silver lids off the room service cart.

She takes the plate with the cheeseburger and fries and sets it on the low coffee table in the middle in the room before sitting on the floor in front of it. Two huge bites and a few fries later, Randi finally looks up.

“I'm sorry, guys,” she says with a sigh, meeting the eyes of every man in the room. “I—”

“I looked over the information in that envelope.”

Randi's head whips toward Tank, her eyes the size of saucers.

“From what I can tell, it's all legit. Someone was, or is, following Taeler under orders. That’s what the Russians were doing there, why they’ve been there. My guess is they saw her sneak out, and since they were ordered to keep her safe, they followed to make sure the other person didn’t take the opening and snag Taeler off the street.”

Nibbling on a fry, she says, “I need to thank Vlad next time I see him. No doubt it was his orders that had those guys there offering the extra protection. Probably to get on my good side if I had to guess, but hey, it worked.” After a quick sip of her bottle of Coke, she asks, “Do we know who's behind it?”

“Who do you think would stoop so low to have your daughter followed to gain leverage on you?” I ask.

“Fuck,” she shouts, throwing a half-eaten fry across the room. “Which one?” Shoving up from the floor, she stumbles forward, catching herself on the arm of the couch. “Which of those fuckers hired someone to follow my daughter?”

“Based on the evidence—” Tank starts.

“What evidence?” she asks, sinking onto the couch, her unfocused gaze on the opposite wall.

“Various correspondence through the dark web and cryptic phone calls were all documented in that file. I have no damn idea how they got the information.”

“Let’s be honest, it's Russia,” she says with a huff. “They probably started the dark web just so they could monitor it.”

“There's something else, Randi.” Every head in the room turns to Tank at the seriousness in his voice. Even mine. What the hell is he about to say?