Chapter 144
Rhett had never been good at sitting still when something was eating at him, and tonight he was doing a terrible job pretending everything was fine.
He had been walking around the VIP mansion for nearly half an hour, moving from the bar to the hallway and back again, checking his phone every few minutes even though there was nothing new on the screen. His boots dragged against the polished floor, his fingers kept running through his hair, and every time he passed the entrance to the VIP section, his eyes went straight toward the closed door.
There was a dead man behind that door.
Not just any man.
A Russian biker.
Rhett stopped beside the bar and poured himself a drink, but he didn't touch it. He stared at the amber liquid while everything that had happened kept replaying
