“Something doesn’t feel right. Something feels off,” I grumble to him, my eyes piercing every patron. A few who can't handle the heat in my gaze, simply stand and walk out. It makes it easier for me to see where my team is positioned undercover and which ones are truly there for entertainment.

We sit and watch for another ten minutes, and I begin to wonder if I need to go out the back. Perhaps Federico will be down there? I have a team at the rear entrance, so he can’t have escaped through the back door, and by now I am sure his security team would have told him I am here.

“Over there.” Carter nods over to a small booth table in the far corner of the room. It is dark, but I can clearly see Federico sitting, surrounded by his men, who are all looking at me. Looking like a king presiding over his kingdom. His casual demeanor does nothing to settle my nerves. I feel like he is the bait, and I glance quickly around the room for anything that may be amiss.

Seeing nothing out of place, I bring my attention back to him, as he relaxes into the corner booth like he’s on a holiday, his arms up behind his head and a smirk on his face. Suddenly, his face changes, though. He bites his bottom lip and his hands come down between his legs, which are covered by the table. His eyes leave mine for a moment as they focus on the ground in front of him before his body slumps back again, his hands against the top of the booth seats. And that’s when he gives me a big, shit-eating grin.

I have no idea what the fuck he is doing until I see my ex-wife get out from under the table, wiping her mouth, and he squeezes her breast before she stumbles away. If that had happened a month or more ago, I would be livid, but now, with a new woman on my mind, I feel nothing but sadness for Angelina. Federico is so blind to think that my drug-addicted ex-wife sucking his dick would rile me up to the point I would start something.

I won’t be starting this fight. But I will be ending it.

I push off the bar and walk over, Carter right beside me. We both stop in front of the booth, peering down at the men that surround him. They are young, inexperienced, and from the looks on their faces as I gaze at them with murder on my mind, their confidence is waning.

“Federico, where have you been, my dear friend? I have been looking for your skinny ass for weeks!” A chill takes hold of my tone, and I see one of his men fumble under the table. I know he was reaching for his gun. Fucking imbeciles.