Page 8 of Filthy Rich Fae

“Just…don’t. This way,” he murmured, pointing toward the elevator. “Stick close.”

“I’m not going to run off.”

“You would if you were smart,” he said, his eyes flashing for a moment, “but we do stupid things for our blood, don’t we?”

I shook my head. “He’s my foster brother.”

There I went again, giving him too much information. What was it about this guy?

“Foster brother?”

“He’s family to me.” I didn’t say anything else this time. Let him make what he wanted of desperate orphan Cate Holloway and her troublemaker foster brother.

“I see,” he repeated as if compiling mental notes on me. He pressed the down button. “Then I hope you make a strong case for him.”

I held my breath as the doors slid open, half hoping he wouldn’t join me in another enclosed space.

He did.

I trained my eyes on the elevator panel, watching the lights illuminate as we descended to the hotel’s lowest floor, increasingly aware of my pounding heart. I was actually going to do this. I was going to go toe to toe with Lachlan Gage and save my brother.

Or die trying.

The doors opened, but he didn’t step out. Instead, he held an arm across the threshold to keep them from closing.

I stared at the open doors, at his tattooed forearm, at the gold ring he wore, at the ink-black stone in its center, and my confidence flickered. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. I’d been going purely on adrenaline and resolve.

“You just made it,” he murmured. “He’s only taking requests for the next hour.”

“Requests?” I frowned. What the hell was he talking about?

“You aren’t here because of the Equinox?” he asked slowly, adding, “Mabon?”

Now he was just talking in riddles. “I’m here because my brother is lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound he got in front of your fancy fucking hotel a few hours ago.”

He went utterly still.

“And you already mopped up the blood.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “That was a regrettable situation but a misunderstanding.”

“Was it?” My anger sparked back to life, and I grabbed hold of it before the ember faded. “I doubt it. But since I’m sure you’re concerned, the other man that was brought in is in the morgue.”

“Unfortunate.” He glanced out the open doors. “A word of advice? Consider what you’re willing to offer in exchange for your brother’s life. My kind doesn’t deal in mercy.”

His…kind? Criminals. I swallowed and stepped out of the elevator. “What do you deal in?”

He swept one final look over me, and his lip curled ever so slightly before he answered, “Desire.”

The word was dangerous on his lips. But as seductive as it sounded, warning prickled across my skin. I didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, and he didn’t bother to clarify. He strode out of the elevator. For a moment, I hesitated. I could get back in and push the button to the lobby. I could run. From here. From him. From everything that one word implied.

But I’d walked through hell before. I could practically be a tour guide. Clenching my hands at my sides, I followed him into the very depths of it.

Neon sconces illuminated the black walls, casting the armed guards lining the perimeter in garish light. He lifted a hand, and for a moment the room seemed to shimmer—likely the result of the smoke that curled from the many lit cigars, choking the air with a sweet, heavy scent. The room pulsed with an intoxicating energy from the mass of bodies crowded around tables and bars. Glasses clinked, and cards rustled. Cages hung from the ceilings, and dancers wearing nothing but strings of pearls danced to the low, sensual music that crept under it all, although no one seemed to notice.

I kept close to him as we wove our way through the crowd. Eyes followed us, a few patrons even opening their mouths to speak but falling silent at his stern face. Each step made my pulse and my thoughts race faster. My ring couldn’t be worth much to a man who lived like this. I didn’t have anything else. I doubted he wanted my shitty car, and I could barely pay the rent with my salary. I couldn’t even afford to fix my broken air conditioner. But maybe the guard was right and Gage wasn’t after money. Why would he need money when he had this?

But desire?

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