Page 196 of Enemies

It’s the guy I saw selling to Maxx at Wild Fest. He’s been logging as many air miles as I have.

I watch the club owner approach him, and they argue. The dealer leans in, says something that has the owner pulling back and shaking his head.

Security clearly sees the interaction but doesn’t make a move to intervene.

After the show, the owner approaches me. “Thanks for playing. We were lucky to get you at Bliss on short notice.”

“Sure. Who needs a vacation?” I flash a smile, but the man only cringes.

“I could use one right about now.”

I think about what I saw earlier. “Who was that guy dealing?”

He looks caught out but relents when I raise a brow. “He’s one of Mischa’s. First showed up six months ago. I should’ve objected right away, but I didn’t until it got worse.”

“How bad is ‘worse’?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“He’s got guys here every night of the week, and rumor has it some of what he was selling was… questionable. I finally put my foot down. Not inside. Not on my property.”

“I don’t want to look up and see that shit either.”

Maybe I’m feeling extra sensitive after seeing Maxx spun out at Wild Fest and after the condition I found Ash in this week.

“Ivanov’s started pressuring clubs to sell. Says if they don’t, his people will tip off law enforcement that owners like me are allowing this to go down on their watch. I’ll lose everything. This way, at least I have money to start over.”

“You can’t offer to help the police?”

Fear fills his face. “You can’t stop this. You’ll only be hurt trying.”

On my way back to the hotel in the car, I turn it over. Worrying about who controls what drugs in Ibiza is above my pay grade. Except it’s in my face every night and it’ll only get harder to ignore.

I want a long-ass bath and maybe one of my anxiety pills. But when I open the door to the suite, I know immediately something’s wrong.

“Ash?” I step inside, hitting the lights.

Nothing is amiss in the living room. The same stock magazines are on the coffee table.

Except…

I could have sworn I left a sweater on the couch.

There’s no way. My stomach knots in disbelief.

I stalk down the hall to Ash’s room. His bed is made, his suitcase missing from the stand it occupied since we arrived.

I make my way to my room, my hand shaking as I hit the light.

There’s nothing. My belongings are gone.

6

RAE

The fucking nerve.

He did a reverse me. Vanished my belongings.

I place a call on my cell phone to a number I haven’t used in a long time.

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