Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

A phone vibrates. I jump. My chest is in knots and my head spins.

Julian groans and steps back to check his phone. My breathing comes out harsh and uneven. A tremor rushes through my limbs as if I’m coming down from a wave of adrenaline.

Perhaps I am.

His gaze strays my way and he does that tilting head thing. “You’re going back to the safe house.”

“You mean storehouse. What type of people live in a storage house?”

“Watch it, Firefly.” He doesn’t appear angry anymore, and there’s even a bit of amusement underneath his words.

However, I don’t plan to test his limits. He’d test mine in return. That’s not fun.

“Fine.” I fold my arms to hide the tremors. “I’ll return after closing time.”

“You will go back in thirty minutes.”

His bossy tone grates at me. I point a finger at him. “Why do you think you can tell me what to do?”

“Our place. Our rules.” A smirk plays on his lips. “If you don’t like it, you can always leave.”

I huff. God. He’s so infuriating.

“Okay, until midnight at least?” I use my sweetest tone, hoping this one will work.

He reaches around me to open the door, and I push away. I have no confidence in my self-preservation anymore.

“Thirty minutes,” Julian says. “If I don’t come to take you back, Shadow will.”

I open my mouth to argue.

“That’s final.” He cuts me off.

After the door closes behind him, I kick it and mimic his tone. “That’s final. That’s final. Bastard!”

Now that I’m on a deadline thanks to the ever so flexible Julian, I distribute the drinks instead of watching from behind the bar. This way, it’s easier to listen for snippets of conversation and hope to find something useful.

Only they’re of no value. I consider asking the customers about Zoe, but if Ghost and his gang managed to fool the police, I’m sure they would find a way to shut the customers up, too.

That is if they ever witnessed anything.

Scarlett is nowhere in sight. My chest tightens at the thought of any pig doing something to her. She’s an escort, and I know sex isn’t expected of her or any of the girls, not without their consent at least, but I can’t help worrying. Without her, this place would feel like hell.

As I pass between the tables, the girls throw snarky remarks my way.

“Julian’s new puppet.”

“How long will it be before he tires of you? Tomorrow? Next week?”

“What’s so special about her? All she does is hide behind Scarlett’s skirts.”

It takes everything in me to not punch them in the face. There’s a limit to my patience.

But even with my anger, I can’t help weighing their words. New puppet. How many puppets did Julian have and will he really tire of me so fast? I shake my head. Not that I care.

I don’t.

I take a tray with a few drinks and pretend to carry it towards a customer. Instead, I saunter past the patrons and head up to the second floor. Mist usually pays visits to the private rooms at this time. Kyle is in the control room. Shadow and Julian also disappear to God knows where. Probably to deal with gangster things. Like killing.

God. I can’t believe Julian killed for me. He took actual lives.

That definitely wouldn’t endear him to Mist. It could also cause a war… I think. Why would he risk that?

My mind goes on overdrive, and I come up with nothing. Trying to figure out Julian is a headache. He’s as bottomless as the darkness in his eyes.

Once I arrive in front of Mist’s door, I take a quick peek at my surroundings. No one. If Julian finds me snooping here again, he’ll lock me up in a dungeon.

But I’ve been watching during the time I’ve been here, and I’m confident that he’s never around during this time. Today, I confirmed that by the phone call he received. I’m sure he’s off grounds.

I place the tray on the floor and remove a pin from my hair. Zoe taught me to pick locks when we needed to run away from our foster houses and their abuse.

After a few tries, the lock clicks open. I suck in a breath, remove my heels and go inside.

A relieved sigh leaves me when no one comes into sight. The office still has that faint red lighting. I wonder if it has a meaning. Perhaps something erotic. After all, this is Le Salon we’re talking about.

I head to the locked door I noticed the first time I came in here. I use the pin again. This time, it takes a bit longer due to the light and the weird, smaller lock. My fingers turn clammy. Sweat beads on my forehead.

Come on.

With a deep breath, some of the knots in my shoulders loosen. I try again with a relaxed grip.

It clicks. Yes!

I take another brief glance behind me, then tiptoe into the room.

I jerk to a halt, heart thundering.

My feet remain rooted in place as if someone drenched me with freezing water.

Mist and Julian sit on a white marble ground. Their wrists are cuffed to huge, thick metal bars that take up half the room. Like a prison cage.

Julian is in the shirt from earlier. The cuffs dig into his bandaged wrist. Mist’s long-sleeves are also rolled up. Her cuffed wrist is bandaged, too.

The sight is horrific, but it’s the look in their eyes that freezes me. They’re glazed over and so glassy, it’s freakishly inhuman.