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I tried not to think about what that meant.
We walked to the back of the room toward a heavy oak door. Two men, also dressed entirely in black, straightened as we approached. The shorter of the two was a redhead; the taller had silver hair shorn close to the scalp on one side, long on the other. He was about the same height as the man accompanying me, with an equally impressive build, even more tattoos, and a lip ring that matched his hair.
“I was wondering where you went.” Lip Ring ran a hand through his hair, his eyes straying to me. He raised a brow but didn’t ask.
“What are you doing here, Shaw?” my companion asked the red-haired man.
“Same thing you are.” Shaw grinned at him. “It’s—”
But he didn’t so much as smile. “Get the fuck out of here. You were supposed to stay clear tonight.”
Shaw squared his shoulders, his face twisting with a retort, but he didn’t speak before he stalked away. When he was gone, the silver-haired guard held up his hands.
My guide barked at the other man, “Roark, I told you to keep him away tonight.”
Roark shrugged. “He’s not a kid anymore.”
He didn’t look pleased at that, but he tilted his head toward the closed door. “Are they in there?”
Roark looked at me one more time before he answered, “Yeah. The client is here.”
Finally, he nodded at me. “Check her bag.”
I gripped my purse tightly. “No fucking way.”
He looked at me, a smile ghosting across his face before vanishing. “I can take you back upstairs, if you prefer.” We stared at each other before he inclined his head toward my purse.
I held it out, pinning a glare on Roark as he rifled through it. “Nothing,” he pronounced and handed it back to me. “Should she be—”
“She asked for an audience. I can’t refuse.” He seemed annoyed about this, like I’d tricked him into bringing me down here.
“Now is not a great time,” Roark warned him.
But he gripped my elbow and steered me toward the door. “Sounds like the perfect time.”
There was no turning back now.
Chapter Three
A man lay crumpled on the floor under a single flickering overhead light. Two men in dark clothes—more guards, by the looks of them—stood over him.
A massive executive desk sat in the middle of the room, completely bare save for a bowl of apples placed in one corner like a macabre version of a classroom.
But it was the men gathered on the other side of the desk that stopped me in my tracks.
A collection of brutal beauty, each was dressed in a suit, as though they could hide their true natures behind fine clothing. They were all younger than I would have expected. Not a single one looked a day over thirty. No wonder they had no issue getting kids like Channing mixed up with them.
The one at the center of the group scanned us as we entered. He was handsome, in a cruel way, except for the sneer he wore. He looked powerful. Savage. Was this who I’d come to see? I waited for him to take a seat behind that desk, waited for him to pounce.
But he looked at the man beside me. “It’s about time, Lach.”
It took me a moment to process what he meant. My eyes widened as it hit me. The man I was with was not a guard. He was not some obedient lackey.
“You’re…” Lach. He was Lachlan Gage.
Horror laced with icy fear slithered through me. Unhinged. Vicious. Merciless. That’s what they called him. I’d followed him blindly, and now he had me trapped.
A smirk hooked his lips. “You really didn’t know, did you?”