But his eyes?
Those are still locked on mine.
Cute. He plays rough…
But I playdirty.
The only thing I give him is a slow, dangerous grin.
Because tonight? I don’t need revenge.
I need to win.
two
Sweet cigar smokeclings to the green-felt air of the billiards room. My heels crack against the parquet floor as I stalk through, snag aTheta’sraised shot glass, then his friend’s, and down them both before they can blink.
“What the fuck?” they shout in unison, but I’m already on the move.
I gag through a grimace and scrape my tongue over my teeth. “You’re rich—why are you drinking Everclear?” I toss over my shoulder. The burn ignites my chest and settles in my belly like a mouthful of gasoline, but the spirits steel my nerves.
Talon’s not in the main bar area. Not in the hall.
Shouts erupt from the grand entrance, the chandelier swaying like a warning sign in response. Ofcourse. Mafia-lite couldn’t even last one party without starting a fight.
When I jerk the front door open, an enormous blond man blocks the egress, his broad back an impenetrable wall. TwoThetaguys in red jackets grapple with Talon beside him.
The valets hook Talon under his arms and haul him toward the garage as he flails, heels skidding over the cobblestones.
“Hestarted it!”
None of the men dignifies that with a response.
I hustle after them. “Wait! What are you doing with him?”
“Fancy!” Talon twists in their grip, to no avail. “They’re kicking me out because I’m aDelta.Thetabitches!”
Henry Cardell, of all people, is one of the captors. His eye roll could power the whole Jacobean manor and send the Neo-Gothic gargoyles into flight.
“Let me at least tell him goodbye!” I say as he continues to fight them. All three men’s strength keeps their prisoner corralled. Hurriedly, I press a kiss to his neck and whisper so only he can hear. “Come to the back entrance.”
With a dismissive pivot, I aim toward the high brick garden wall. The rusted metal gate screeches as I slip through, not looking back.
Chaos surrounds the red-lit pool, its maroon water glimmering like lava. The oversized hot tub’s probably 70% cum and bacteria by now, judging by how many bodies are crammed inside and going at it.
“Excuse me!” A tangle of women lick each other over a vintage wrought-iron lounger, satin and sweat glinting in the amber light, their legs snaring mine until I fall into a crowd of thirsty sisters kneeling before?—
That’s Landon Turner.
Hmm, useful?Not yet.
By the time Talon’s drunk ass waddles around the manicured boxwoods, I’m hot,seething, and one minor inconvenience away from homicide. Holding the back stairwell door open, I wave him in like he’s a child crossing a street.
He’s not stealthy. And that’s partly why he’s instrumental. But he stumbles over the threshold like he’s learning how his legs work. Thankfully, everyone’s too busy to notice. Or my current lust for blood would come rearing out at an inopportune time.
“I don’t have all fucking day,” I snap.
A sluggish grin is his only response, the smog of weed smoke clinging to his suit jacket like a skunk’s cologne. Reaching up, I tug on his mask so most of his face is covered. “There. Let’s go.”