It was one o’clock on Saturday morning and we still hadn’t found Ryker.
“Let’s call it a night,” I said as I leaned against the bar of the fourth place we’d visited, resigned to being bleary-eyed and hungover at work in a few hours.
“Nope, we have three more stops to make before we go home. If we don’t find him tonight, there’s always tomorrow.”
I groaned, rubbing my temples, which throbbed in time to the bass of the music. “Kill me now.” Titus meant well, but when he had the bit in his teeth about something, he was relentless.
“Come on, love. Finish your Sprite and let’s head to Xtra. Maybe we’ll get lucky there.” At this point, I was running on fumes and it didn’t matter where we were going.
Fifteen minutes later, an Uber driver dropped us at the club. Titus pulled me out of the car
