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because a second later he was being pul ed out of his chair by a guy that should have been on WWF Smackdown! WWF dude marched him out of the bar while al the jerks in the place were ho oting and clapping. “Which car is yours?” WWF asked when they hit the parking lot.
    “The Hyundai,” Anthony mumbled. Because what was the point in drawing the process out?
    “Okay, so get in your Hyundai like a good boy, and I’l watch you drive away,” the guy said. “And if I ever see you in the same ro om with my boss again, I’m kicking your butt across the state line.”
    Anthony fol owed his orders and got in his car.
    He started to slam the door shut, but WWF blocked it. “You ever been to The Elbow Room?” he asked.
    “The Elbow Room,” Anthony repeated. He’d been preparing a little defense action in his head. He hadn’t expected a question.
    “You should. It’s your kind of place.” After that, he shut the door for Anthony and gave him a wave. Anthony stared at him for a se cond, stil trying to process, then he backed out of the parking space and hauled butt out of the parking lot. The first gas station he saw, he pul ed in and got directions to the Elbow Room.
    Can’t believe Mr. Pink’s guy did me a favor, Anthony thought as he drove to Little Five Points, where the bar was supposed to be. Unless he didn’t really do me a favor. Unless I’m going to be met with a bunch of goons with baseball bats.
    But when he found the crappy-looking little bar, the parking lot only had a few cars. And no goons. Maybe WWF just found out he has a tumor or something, Anthony thought. Maybe he wants to get in a few good deeds in case he kicks it. Whatever. I owe the guy one if I ever see him again.
    Anthony climbed out of the car and strode into the Elbow Room. It wasn’t nearly as classy as The Score. No cute little waitres ses. And it smel ed like someone had puked in the corner not too long ago. But it’s not like he was there for the friggin’ atmosp here. He blinked a few times, letting his eyes get used to the dark of the bar, then he scanned the place, squinting at each of the dim figures hunched at the bar.
    No Aiden. Crap. He checked the tables. Most of them were empty. There was a guy macking on a woman at the one al the way in the back. And a guy making a pyramid of shot glasses at the table closest to the door. But that was it. No Aiden.
    Time to make friends with yet another bartender, Anthony thought. He pul ed out a twenty and started over. Then a flash of mo vement to his left caught his eye. He glanced over and saw Aiden stepping out of the men’s room.
    Thank you, mysterious bodyguard, Anthony thought as he rushed over to Aiden. “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Aiden told him.
    “Then just listen,” Anthony said. He’d been working on a list of al the ways Aiden owed Rae, starting with the fact that Rae’s mom was dead because of the agency Aiden had been a part of. But as he stood in front of Aiden, the list slithered out of his mind. “I can’t lose her, al right?” he burst out. “She’s-Rae’s-crap. She’s everything. What she’s done-what she-”
    Anthony sucked in a breath. He sounded like a freakin’ idiot. “If you don’t help me track down Yana, Rae could die. And that-”
    He pul ed in another breath, trying to find the words.
    Aiden didn’t bother waiting. He turned and walked out of the bar.

Chapter 4

    "Rae, stop, okay?” Mandy said.
    “We’re almost there,” Rae answered, without looking at her. She was stil way too new to driving to look anywhere but the road.
    “Stop, okay? Please stop !” Mandy’s voice rose into a hysterical shriek.
    Rae risked a glance and felt her stomach flood with acid. Mandy’s face was drained of blood. She looked like she was going to pass out any second.
    “Blinker,” Rae muttered. “Blinker, blinker.” She flipped the turn signal on and checked over her shoulder. “Do you see my blin ker?” she shouted at the car behind her.