Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(50)

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growled.

“Course you don’t. But I’m telling you, lighten up, try and think of pleasant things. Your eyes are positively savage.”

Words were delays, and I wanted none of it. Glowering, I strode forward and headed toward the main entrance. The street held a couple climbing into a taxi, their luggage littered around the curb.

The doorman gave us a curt nod as we walked in. My back stayed ramrod straight thanks to the knife down my pants, and my hands ached to clench into fists and start tearing up the place to find Tess.

She has to be here. She has to be.

The lobby looked like the Renaissance period threw up on it. Scrolls and gold leaf, pretentious and ostentatious.

Trying to act normal, I eyeballed the concierge. I didn’t pay any attention to the private alcoves or carefully arranged seating nooks, nor did I listen to the gentle notes of a piano playing. I focused entirely on the man who would be my first victim if he didn’t take me to Gerald.

I demanded, “I’m here to see your boss. And before you ask if I have a f*cking appointment, I don’t, and I don’t need one. Mention my name. He’ll see me.”

The elderly concierge looked down his nose, peering over half-moon glasses. “I know who you are. And he said to let you up when you arrived.”

I didn’t register shock. That would be a weakness; I was anything but weak in that moment. I was ready.

“Lead the way,” I clipped.

The man handed me a keycard and pointed at the elevator reserved for the penthouse floor. “Be my guest. I’ve been told not to disturb your meeting.” He gave me a sneer and my fingers twitched to punch him.

Frederick came to the man’s rescue by tugging my arm. “Great. We’ll head up.” He plucked the keycard from my grip, hauling me to the lift. “Wait till we’re behind closed doors before you go berserk, Q.”

I jerked my head in some sort of acknowledgement and followed him into the elevator. The doors began to close, and Franco appeared from nowhere, jumping in beside us.

“All clear as far as we can tell. I’m guessing he has his penthouse fortified. I recommend we wait till Alpha squadron can catch up.”

They were lucky I wasn’t scaling the f*cking building with my bare hands. Wait longer? No f*cking way.

I didn’t bother answering as the lift soared upward. I reached into my breast pocket and pulled out the gun.

Frederick eyed me warily, but then followed suit. Franco pulled two guns from his holster beneath his jacket. We nodded at each other then stared at the doors, waiting for the moment when they would open.

The three clicks of safeties being taken off helped mollify me for a moment.

Not long. Hold on, Tess.

The gentle ping of arrival sent every muscle in my body vibrating with tension. I was coiled, armed, and f*cking ready to create some carnage.

The doors glided open. We crouched and moved forward.

“I expected you twenty-four hours ago, Mercer. You’re losing your touch.” Gerald chuckled the moment we stepped into the lounge.

I froze, battling back the urge to let loose the entire round of bullets into him.

The penthouse was five hundred square feet of pure decadence. Not only had I designed the hotel suite’s floor plan, but hired an interior designer who knew the value of great lighting, subtle wall tones, and elaborate wallpaper.

It was a perfect palace, sullied by the f*cking gutter rat who lived there.

Gerald sat in a large weathered chair, nursing a goblet of liquor. His prosthetic leg cocked to the side awkwardly from a former gunshot, courtesy of a disgruntled business associate.

His pink scalp and wispy blond hair didn’t do anything to help his gob for a face, or the nasty scars on his cheeks. His nose was red and large, identifying him as a drunkard, and his large gut strained in the ridiculous paisley shirt. It made him look watery eyed and almost ready for the grave, but regardless of his sickly appearance, his control over his empire was legendary.

“Where the f*ck is she?” I snarled.

His son appeared. My heart thudded with thick hatred and I wanted to shoot him all over again. He wore an exact replica of the jumpsuit he’d worn when he hurt Tess, only this one was a horrifying yellow. His gold-capped teeth looked garish when he smiled and waved a wooden cane in my direction in a salute.

“I never got a chance to thank you for the goodbye gift, cocksucker. Your dog over there dragged me out before I could repay the favour.” He pointed at Franco. “You’ll pay for kicking me when I was f*ckin’ shot. Only way you could get one over me. If my leg hadn’t been gushin’ blood, I would’ve had you dead in a moment.”

Franco snorted. “Didn’t sound so tough when you f*cking pissed yourself after I slapped you.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “How about I slap you again and you can cry to Daddy?”

I swallowed hard, tasting the threat, the underlying violence in the room.

The man launched forward, and I didn’t give Franco a chance to deliver his promise. He deserved more than a f*cking slap. My fist collided with his jaw, cracking in the silent room. The throb started in my knuckles and radiated up my arm, but for the first time in days, I felt like things were finally going my way.

“Come near us again and I’ll not only cripple you like your old man, I’ll redecorate your insides.”