The men at the pool table had stopped playing. Actually, it was three men and two women. One guy from that group turned toward her. Jet black hair. Dark eyes. Tattoos on his fisted hands. He began striding toward her, and Maisey tensed.
“You just had to attract attention.” It was the fellow who’d claimed to be Odin’s friend. He huffed out a breath. “Here we go,” he muttered as he placed himself in front of her and her table. “I knew this wasn’t going to be a lucky night.”
But the man with the tats was focused completely on her. “I know Whitney.”
He did?
He raised a fist into the air, and the fighting just…stopped. Or rather, the men fighting Odin stopped. Odin continued right on as he plowed a fist into one guy’s jaw.
Down he went.
The man with the tats opened his raised hand. She realized that he had a red rose tattooed inside one palm. Her gaze was caught by that tattoo. Maisey remembered that before she’d vanished, Whitney had suddenly taken a keen interest in roses. She’d had a fresh red rose in her office every single day.
“Who are you?” Maisey asked. She started to leap off the table.
Odin appeared. He reached for her. Lifted her down. “Raising some hell?”
No, she absolutely had not been. Why would he suggest that? “I was getting intel.” And doing a pretty fine job of it. “You were the one raising hell.” As evidenced by the wreckage and the injured people scattered around Ramsey’s.
Odin’s jaw firmed, but he glanced toward the man who’d admitted to knowing Whitney.
“Let’s take this into the back,” the man with the tats said. He’d dropped his hand. Fisted the rose once again. “No one else needs to hear this.” With those words, he spun on his heel and began walking toward a red door on the right.
Maisey took a quick step to follow him.
“Seriously?” It was the so-called “friend” of Odin’s. “Your girlfriend has like, zero self-preservation skills, man. It is a good thing I was here to help you out. Must’ve been fate.”
Odin’s head swung toward him. “Jinx.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe what—who—he was seeing. “What in the hell are you doing in this place?”
“Oh, you know.” A shrug. “Looking for a good time. A bad time. Anything in between.” He scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw and pointed to Maisey. “That one was ready to jump into the fray with you. I held her back, like the amazing friend that I am.”
Odin’s attention shifted to her. Then fell to her hand. The one that still gripped her mace.
“Could we move this along?” Maisey urged. She noticed that there didn’t appear to be even a scratch on Odin. Considering he’d been hit with multiple chairs, she figured that was a miracle. “The man with intel is waiting on us.”
Odin looked around the bar. She knew by the stubborn set of his jaw that he was not happy.
She was hardly thrilled herself. Odin could have been seriously hurt. And she suspected his next plan without him having to say a word. “Don’t even think it,” Maisey warned him. “I’m supposed to stay with you, Odin. You aren’t having a chat without me.”
“Not like I’d leave you out here.” His fingers threaded with hers. “Jinx, you’ll watch the door?”
“On it,” Jinx said instantly.
Okay, so, they were friends. Especially if Odin trusted the guy to guard their backs. Odin kept a tight grip on her right hand. With her left, she tucked her mace back into her bag. For the moment, it seemed she wouldn’t be needing it. There was some sort of temporary truce happening in the bar. “Sorry I almost maced you,” Maisey told Jinx.
“Think nothing of it,” he assured her with a wink. “Happens all the time.”
Did it? How unfortunate. And what did he do to provoke mace attacks?
“Don’t believe anything he says,” Odin told her gruffly as he steered her toward the red door. Everyone seemed to be giving them a wide berth. Everyone but Jinx. He ambled behind them. “The man is never serious.”
“Life is too short for that,” Jinx called, obviously overhearing. “Besides, you’re serious enough for both of us.”
She frowned back at him. “I do not like the tone. Odin has a wonderful laugh and a great sense of humor.”
“Oh.” Jinx nodded. “You’re drunk. I didn’t realize that. It would explain why you were dancing on the table.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I absolutely was not dancing—”
Odin kicked open the red door. “Guard it,” he snapped to Jinx.
Jinx saluted him.
Odin pulled her inside.
When the door shut, it was like stepping into another world. Silence. Immediate and intense. The blasting music vanished as if it had never existed.
“Soundproof.” Odin nodded. He still held her hand in his. “Perfect place for you to do business, huh, Ramsey?”
He knew this guy, too? And, wait—Ramsey? As in, this man owned the place?
“Ah, my reputation proceeds me.” The man he’d called Ramsey gave a half-smile that never reached his eyes. “Sorry, but I don’t know you.”
“He’s Odin,” Maisey supplied, and her voice sounded too high to her own ears. “I’m Maisey. I’m—”
“Maisey Bright.” Ramsey took two steps toward her. Studied her with that faint smile still on his face and not in his eyes. “Now, you, I do know. Whitney mentioned you a time or two.”
Oh? Maisey didn’t trust this man. Not for a second. “Funny, she never mentioned you.”
His smile disappeared. “That’s because our relationship was private.”
Relationship? “You were involved with her?” Ramsey was attractive in a dangerous and deadly sort of way. If you went for that. But…
“We were fucking,” Ramsey told her.
Okay. That cut to the chase. Blunt.
“You realize you just jumped to the top of our suspect list,” Odin said. He let go of Maisey’s hand. He angled his body so it was in front of hers, but if she inched to the side, she could still see Ramsey.
She inched.
“I didn’t hurt Whitney. I’d never hurt her.” Ramsey’s voice was flat.
“Ramsey…” Odin sighed. “You have a record a mile long.”
Ramsey shrugged. “So? You tell me once when I have ever hurt a woman.” His gaze slid to Maisey once more. “I’ve been looking for Whitney, too. The night she vanished, she was supposed to come and meet me. Here, at the bar. Only I waited and she never showed.” His eyelids flickered. “Thought maybe she’d changed her mind.”
“Changed her mind?” Maisey latched onto that. “About what?”
Another shrug. “Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does.” How could he think it didn’t? “Everything matters. She’s missing. She’s the third woman to go missing like this and—”
“Third?” Ramsey’s voice dropped. Became lethal. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
Maisey wet dry lips. “I’ve been researching. There were two other cases like this before Whitney was taken. Two other women who just vanished, leaving all of their belongings behind.”