Page 13 of Fang
He nods once and points to Antonio’s office. “He’s right in there. Last door on the left.”
“Thanks, kid,” I say as I tap the counter twice.
I head down the hall and knock on Antonio’s office door.
“Come in,” he says from the other side.
When I open the door, he looks up. His eyes narrow on my vest for a split second before his face goes blank.
Interesting.
“Fang, I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I’m just here to pick up the deposit.”
“Loyal usually does that.”
“He does, but he’s busy today so I am,” I tell him, leaving no room for an argument.
The man must catch my tone because he nods once and scoots his chair back.
“Very well.” He opens his desk drawer and pulls out the bank bag and slides it forward. “Here you go.”
I grab the bag and slide it into my back pocket. “We good?”
“Of course, why do you ask?”
“The way you eyed my cut.”
Antonio sighs, his eyes shutting for a brief second before he looks back at me.
“If I had a problem with the club, I wouldn’t have gone into business with you guys, but we are trying to do something a little different here, and you don’t necessarily fit the image I’ve built for this place. It’s nothing personal.”
I go to tell him that it feels personal when my phone rings.
“One second,” I say as I remove it from my pocket.
I frown when I see it’s Happy.
“I’m a little busy, can it wait?” I ask when I answer, bypassing all pleasantries.
“Shit went down, and we need you,” he tells me.
I don’t know why, but somehow I know he means Cami. Something happened with her.
“I’ll be right there,” I say before hanging up and shoving my phone back in my pocket.
“Everything okay?” Antonio asks, reminding me where I am.
“Everything’s fine, but I need to head out. This conversation isn’t over, though,” I tell him as I reach for the doorknob.
He nods once before I step out. I ignore everyone as I make my way out of the shop, and I jump on my bike. Giving zero fucksabout Antonio and how he wants the business to appear, I tear out of the parking lot and head toward the club.
Somehow, I make the thirty-minute drive in fifteen. The entire time different scenarios rush through my mind. Is she hurt? Did she quit? Did someone fucking touch her?
By the time I step into the club, I’m teetering on the edge, ready to take someone out. When Happy sees me, he holds his hands up.
“Hold on, brother.”
