“f**k,” I growled, standing on the elevator and running a hand through my hair.
Those FBI fuckers hadn’t left my club the entire night, had waited for me to leave and then followed me. We had lost them about ten blocks down through the traffic, but they were getting too close and way too ballsy.
When I reached my floor, the elevator opened. Riccardo stood outside the door, leaning against the wall, but Vincent wasn’t anywhere in sight. I pressed my lips together and nodded to Riccardo, wondering what the hell was going on.
After stepping into my home, I placed my jacket down on an island stool. Two wrapped and untouched burgers sat in the trash, along with a couple boxes of fries and a paper bag from a place called Burgerland. I furrowed my brow and walked farther into the penthouse, my
