Are you ready for me?
Present day
I lean back in my chair with stinging, burning eyes, but the tears won’t fall.
“Man, you’ve been at this for hours.” Bryan tosses an apple, that I have no idea where he got, in the air. “Can’t we go out?”
I stare at the clock on the wall. Hours? It feels like I just woke up.
I have so much left to say, but I am tired. I look out the window to see it’s no longer raining, but— “Going out will leave me wide open for Bastian to find me.”
“Maddox, if he were looking for you, he would’ve found you by now.”
With a heaving sigh, I relent. Truth is, I need a break too. I can put on the hoodie and glasses, and we can go in Bryan’s car.
“Fuck yeah! Strip club, man.”
I roll my eyes at his enthusiasm. We’re the same age. Shouldn’t the excitement of strippers be a little less thrilling?
“Yeah. Whatever,” I mutter. “I guess a strip club is good a place as any to stay low. Dark enough anyway.”
An hour later, we walk through the doors of some high-dollar club with the door bouncer looking at me with a sneer. “Suit and tie are mandatory,” he grunts as he folds his large, tattooed arms across his chest.
I reach into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out my ID. I hand it to him without a word. He looks me over with a raised brow then hands it back to me. “Am I supposed to believe that you’re—”
I remove the sunglasses and push the hoodie back just enough to see that the person and the picture are the same.
“Holy shit!” he rasps. “You’re supposed to be missing or something.”
I slide the glasses back on and pull the hoodie up. “I still am.” I let my tone convey the real meaning behind my words, then slip him a few hundred to ensure the message is received loud and clear.
“You got it, Mr.—uh—”
“Michaels,” I give him Bryan’s last name.
“Right this way, Mr. Michaels.”
I follow him, watching as he murmurs into his phone. He hands us off to another tattooed guy that we follow up a flight of stairs into several sectioned-off areas. We walk through several men in suits that eye us suspiciously, probably because we aren’t following theirdress code. “Mr. Michaels, my name is Landon. I’m the floor manager here. Ms. Langley instructed me to bring you to one of our VIP rooms. You shouldn’t have any problems with privacy. Do you have any preferences concerning girls?”
“I don’t care,” I wave. Then hesitate because that’s not true. “Actually, no blonds.”
“Understood. Anything else we can do for you? Beverages?”
“A couple bottles of Johnny Blue will be fine unless you have other refreshments on the menu.”
He gives me a knowing smirk. “Anything specific you have in mind?”
“Surprise me.”
He nods as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.
Bryan and I fall into the expensive leather sofa sitting in the room. I cock a brow at him with a flick of my chin, gesturing to the chair next to the sofa. I’m not watching girls get naked with him sitting on the same cushion as me. I don’t like him that much.
“So you gonna talk about the sudden issues with blonds?” Bryan asks me with a slick grin.
I feign ignorance, pretending the carpet is the most fascinating thing in the room. “Nope.”
“I don’t suppose it would have anything to do with the sweet little girl I heard you put a monster in, would it?”
