“Wait here.”
Of course I’d wait. I always did what I was told when people were watching.
Ricardo Price was down at the bar in minutes, armed with a grin and a white shirt unbuttoned to his waist. “Mr. Grant,” he purred, sliding over to me, shaking my hand, his free hand on my waist. Everymuscle in my body wanted to recoil, to break his fingers individually.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t lean in either. “I assume you know why I’m here.” I said.
He ordered us drinks without asking. “On the house,” Ricardo said, with an expansive wave of his hand.
“Nice atmosphere,” I commented, all innocent.
He glanced at the near empty place, his smile faltered a little, the practiced lines on his face cracking with something like suspicion. I could almost see the quiet desperation in his expression.Do you have money?
“Always quiet on a Thursday,” he defended.
“Of course,” I said, and pretended to sip my drink, the whiskey burning my lips, but nothing more. I turned to face him, hooking my foot on the rail, keeping an eye on my back in the mirror. “So what do you have for me?”
“What are you looking for?” he asked, leaning in. He smelled of sweat and desperation and was ripe to be played.
“What do you have?”
“Any drug you want.”
I huffed. “I was looking for something different.”
“Like?”
I lowered my tone, licked my lips. “Something unique and young. Male.”
He didn’t act surprised. “What makes you think I got that?”
“Heard through the grapevine.”
He eyed me with suspicion, and I didn’t move. I hoped to hell any background checks he’d run when I’d made this damnappointmenthad held up. Finally, he seemed to decide I was dark enough inside to earn a right to what he was selling.
“Got some young ones fresh off the farm.” He dipped his gaze, smiling, oily and cruel. “Realfresh, if you know what I mean.” Then, he added a wink, and I wanted to smash my glass into his face.
“Yeah?”
“Interested?”
“Maybe.” My stomach turned, but I swallowed the bile and flattened my tone. I needed him to keep talking. I scanned the bar, pretending to listen as I did. Two exits markedstaffonlyhad cameras and keypads; security at each of them. This place was wrapped tight tonight. I turned to face the sparse crowd, the camera in my button catching what I hoped was enough to gather more intel.
And that was when I sawhim. For one heart-stopping moment, I thought I was hallucinating. Butno—there he was in the worst possible place at the worst possible time.
Jamie.
Fuming. His hands clenched into fists. Staring at me as if I’d dragged him into Hell. Right in the middle of the dance floor, like a fucking beacon of idiocy, the rest of the world spreading around him.
For fuck’s sake.
I muttered something to Ricardo about needing the bathroom and ducked out, inclining my head to the idiot mechanic, weaving through the sweat and alcohol. Cold water, a locked bathroom, all of them separate here, and maybe five minutes to have a fucking talk with him, and ask what the hell he was doing here. That was all I needed. I waited until he turned the corner, saw where I was, and thank god I stepped back from the door because it slammed against the wall as he burst in, and he was in my space before I could breathe, a whirlwind of temper.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled, His anger burned hot and fast, and tonight it was aimed at me. I locked the door and leaned on the small sink. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. He was already vibrating with fury. “Why the fuck are you letting Ricardo Price touch you?” he snapped again.
I straightened, calm on the outside, and took himin—the way his leather pants clung like paint, the tight shirt revealing tattoos that twisted like secrets along his arms. Every inch of him screamed deliberate temptation. Dark glasses perched in his messy hair, his lips parted enough to make him look dangerous, and the way he moved—as if he knew everyone wanted him and didn’t give a damn—was enough to make anyone stop and stare.
He looked like sex and violence wrapped in velvet, and he vibrated with a tension that had nothing to do with nerves. He was dressed to be touched and dared anyone to try. And that attitude? It was a weapon all on its own.
