Page 38 of No Sweeter Poison

My stomach flips with trepidation, my hands unsteady as I fold them against my chest. “Um…friends.”

She licks her bottom lip. “Wanna ditch?”

Instinctively, I take a step back, half expecting Alejandro to appear out of nowhere. My gaze darts around, looking for a familiar face, but find none. It almost strikes me as odd. No Lettie, Diego, or Alejandro within twenty-five feet? I guess when I wandered off and started my exploring, they lost track of me…

I startle as the realization settles in.

They lost track of me.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Back to our hotel. It’s a ten-minute drive from here, down by the beach.” Her smile widens and noticing my resolve waver, she extends a hand, running it up and down the length of my bare arm. “We could have a little fun.”

“Actually, my flight also leaves tomorrow morning.” I force a smile onto my face. “Mind if I ride with you guys?”

Ron whistles and slips an arm around my waist, pulling me towards the exit. “Already inviting herself to stay the night…my kind of girl.”

“I’m Callie,” the wife introduces herself.

“Dahlia.”

We walk toward the exit and wait on the curb. No more than sixty seconds pass but I measure the passage of time in my head, heart racing, as I look over my shoulder. A black Rolls Royce comes to a stop in front of us and the driver tosses a pair of keys to Ron which he catches with ease. Odd, considering he had to hold onto me as we walked down the stairs.

I’m not sure how comfortable I feel with a partially incapacitated man behind the wheel but if this is my only chance at getting away, then I’ll take it.

I get into the back seat and don’t look back.

A lejandro

At half past midnight, something feels off.

I emerge from the boardroom, leaving the Ocasios and Ponces to settle what’s left of their business, and lean over the balcony edge, overlooking the main floor. Roulette tables spin, cards are thrown down, fortunes lost. Diego’s talking up a group of German socialites, showing off his impressive language skills, while Lettie sits at a poker table, surrounded by gray-haired men our grandfather’s age, all with dwindling chips while her pile grows larger.

My eyes continue to skim the room and immediately do a double take.

“Oscar?”

Oscar stops and turns around, adjusting the gun holster under his suit jacket. Oscar is one of very few men I’d trust with my life. He stops by my side. “Yeah?”

“Where’s Dahlia?”

“She’s with Diego.” He frowns. “He was with her when you went in for your meeting.”

I walk along the length of the upper mezzanine, eyes searching for a familiar head of red hair in a black latex dress. Dahlia’s tall, especially in heels, yet there’s no sign of her anywhere. I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, dialing Dimitrio’s number.

“Patrón?”

“Do you have eyes on Dahlia?”

Oscar lifts his phone to his ear and steps away. “Beni? We might have a problem.”

“No,” Dimitrio replies, a frown in his voice. “Diego said to leave her with him so Manuel and I are circling the perimeter.”

“Leave Manuel outside and get in here now.”

I hang up and grab hold of Oscar, pulling us both down a flight of stairs. “Start with all the exits. Have Pierre and Rodrigo check all the rooms on the fourth and fifth floors—I don’t give a fuck who they interrupt. Make sure they check all the women’s faces.”

If Dahlia somehow managed to find her way up there without supervision…