Chapter SEVEN

When Eduardo had arrived back at the Petrov complex with Konstantin, he almost lost his fucking mind. Alina was not there. His military training was the only reason he did not break down into a full blown panic.

Good thing, too. Because within seconds of that discovery, he received another. His phone rang and Jose, one of his team, called him to say Rosie, a dancer at the club, had just come to him with a problem.

Marcella and Alina had gone outside during a break and had not returned to the club to finish rehearsals for the grand re-opening of the newly renovated wing of The Strip Club.

“What the fuck do you mean, Jose? Where is she?”

“Well, boss, we performed a search and found Marcella in the alley behind the club. She’s been shot, but she’s still alive. Barely,” the man informed him.

“Where are you now? I need you to get the fucking surveillance feed to me, Jose,” he growled, but the man was still talking.