My brother positions himself beside her, one hand resting on the wall behind her back to shield her without making it obvious.To a casual observer, it looks like a heated discussion, one they wouldn’t choose to interrupt.
"Stay on comms." I'm at the door. "Tell me everything."
The parking lot is dark besides the neon palm tree that’s buzzing overhead as I hurry to the truck. Starting the engine, I pull out of the lot and head for the warehouse at speed. I’ll be there in two minutes, maybe less. The road is empty, just my headlights cutting through the dark and the occasional roadside reflector flashing past.
"I don't think we've met. Friend of yours, Caleb?" The unfamiliar voice is smooth and polished, and not the voice of a man who belongs in this room.
"Just a fan." Caleb's voice is flat. "Wanted to congratulate me up close and personal."
Despite knowing that’s not true, my bear butts against the inside of my skin, furious at the insult to our bond. Caleb might not know the exact details of what’s been going on between us, but if he can detect my scent from the other side of the room, he knows he’s treading on thin ice.
"And who might you be, sweetheart?" Mr. Black talks to Lisa, every syllable dripping with fake politeness. This man is no gentleman. He either wants her for himself or he’s suspicious, and neither option is good.
"Oh, just a fan. I was just telling The Beast here how scary these fights are, but amazing at the same time," Lisa's voice through the earpiece is light, easy, with no trace of nervousness. In fact, when she giggles, it sounds a little bit like she’s breathless and flirting with him, too. "I mean, they’re all so big and strong."
She’s laying it on thick. I picture her practically fanning herself as she hangs off Caleb's arm, and a growl fills the cabin of the truck as I thump the steering wheel with one hand and press my foot down harder on the accelerator.
"And your companion? Where is he?"
She chuckles. “Oh, my brother. Getting a drink, last I saw. He’s looking for a friend of his. Always mixes business with pleasure."
I'm on the access road now, headlights off with the warehouse looming ahead. The tired building squats against the treeline, its only sign of life the dull throb of bass leaking through the corrugated walls and the cluster of vehicles spilling out beyond the front lot.
Through the earpiece, Van's voice cuts in, low and urgent.
"I've got eyes on Dimitri. Just came in through the rear entrance, alone. Dark jacket, moving through the crowd on the east side."
“A friend?” Black asks, unable to resist the temptation to ask. “Who might that be? Maybe I can help.”
When Lisa speaks again, her voice is still casual, still playing the part, but easing up on the dumb bimbo act.
"I’ve never seen him. Come to think of it, I’m not sure my brother has either, not face-to-face, anyway. A guy called Dimitri?"
Everyone listening holds their breath and waits to see what the answer is.
"I don't know anyone by that name." The shift in Mr. Black tone is instant, all pretence of warmth and friendliness is gone in a flash.
Lisa might have played that hand too quickly, but with the main fight over, and Dimitri already on site, our window of opportunity is rapidly disappearing.
"And what did you say your name was again, Ms…?" Mr. Black is already murmuring instructions to one of his men.
Van curses. “Dimitri’s talking to one of the guards. He’s staring at Lisa. Shit, he’s passing on a message.”
Then there’s a pause.
“Harris. Is that correct?” Black asks.
Caleb grabs Lisa's arm and pulls her behind him, preparing for an attack, but Mr. Black doesn’t even wait for an answer.
"He's moving," Van says, fast. "Shit. He's getting his daughter, and he's leaving. His men are clearing a path to the back. Dimitri made Lisa or Caleb, or both."
I pull in at speed to the lot out the front and rush toward the entrance. As I push inside, a vaguely familiar scent tickles my nose, but I’ve got no time to deal with that now. I have to pick up Dimitri’s trail before he vanishes again.
The energy in the crowd has shifted. They know something is up. Instead of the celebrations like just minutes before, now worried murmurs drift through the mass of bodies, and the smart ones quickly make their way to the exits.
Pushing against a tide of people trying to leave as I’m heading in, I’m rapidly losing my temper.
"Where the fuck is he, Van?" I demand, peering over their heads to Mr. Black, who’s ushering his girlfriend and daughter past the VIP area and toward the door at the back.