Page 10 of Finding Denver

I rub my temple. Violence should be used when necessary, made theatrical when you need to rock the boat, but to hunt her down and kill her like this feels predatory, and that kind of murder has never sat right with me.

“You don’t have to kill her,” Alistair says in my ear. “If you can separate her from Ranger, it’d be enough. She’d be distracted. Alone. Her fight would eventually run out.”

An option I’d considered. Lure her into bed, have her fuck an enemy and hate herself enough that she’d wallow in a messy divorce. Cruel, but better than death.

“No,” I say, finishing the drink. “She’s too smart.”

And I don’t think I could do it. Fuck, has my time away made my conscience grow, or was I always like this?

“It’s a shame we can’t just kill him,” I say. “He’s a prick.”

“You were flirting with his wife; how did you think he’d react?” Alistair points out. “‘How married are you?’ You’ve been out of the game too long if you think that shit works.”

I smile to myself, gaze fixed on Denver as she whispers something to Ranger. He nods and kisses her, and she heads for the entrance to the ballroom.

“Maybe,” I say, knowing full well he’s right. “What do you—” My thought is interrupted, stalled to the point of confusion, when I spot someone I know. “Alistair, why is Jake Marley here?”

“You’re kidding?”

Jake is standing in a group of people, his attention on Denver as she crosses the room. It’s busy enough that he’sblending in, but I see the little shit. He’s Dorian Eddard’s right-hand man.

Which means Dorian is here.

Denver says something to her security, JJ, and when he responds, she shakes her head and points in the direction of the bathroom. Lewis, her private security that rarely leaves her side, taps his watch and she laughs, rolling her eyes before leaving the ballroom.

“No, I’m not kidding,” I say. “Is Spider here?”

Spider has been on my hit list for three years. The burning, fiery need to tear his head from his shoulders is one I don’t even try to cool. He took from me. Took from my family. If he’s here, the Luxes dying no longer matters.

He does.

“They wouldn’t be in the same place at the same time,” Alistair says. “They never are.”

A security protocol that makes sense. Spider is the head of the snake, and his son is the body. Kill them both, and a network of human trafficking doesn’t die, but it slows until another snake takes its place.

I track Jake as he abandons his champagne and follows Denver. He takes out his phone and types quickly, his gaze flitting from the screen to her.

I follow him. “Dorian hasn’t made a move on Denver since she cut off his finger.” Something we all heard about. Something that almost made me like her. “Call?—”

A high-pitched screech has me wincing, and I snatch the earpiece out just as the ballroom is plunged into darkness.

Gasps echo through the space, a few yelps of surprise, and I stand in place, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Small pockets of light appear as people take out their phones, and I do the same. But there’s no service, no connection.Someone has knocked out the power and our ability to call out.

“Everybody stay calm,” a hotel employee calls out. “It’s just a power cut. We’ll be back up and running once the generators kick in.”

As he says it, low levels of light start up, but we’re not bathed in brightness like before. I head for the entrance. People are standing at the bank of elevators, the red numbers above the metal doors stalled.

“Sir.” A member of staff places his palm on my shoulder. “It’s best you stay in the ballroom.”

I glance at his hand. “Remove that before I break it.” He recoils quickly. Over his shoulder, I watch as JJ emerges from the bathroom, shaking his head at Lewis.

Denver’s gone.

“Your back-up generators. What do they prioritize after lighting?” I ask.

The employee gapes at me. “Um … the service elevators, I guess?—”

If Jake took Denver, she’s still in this building. He can’t have dragged a woman kicking and screaming outside of the hotel. Even if he’d managed to subdue her, someone would notice a man carrying an unconscious woman—especially if the woman in his arms was Denver fucking Luxe.