Chapter 30
THIRTY
NEVE
Slyth Lounge is packed, full of mostly hockey fans and drunk college students, basically one and the same tonight. Just a five-minute walk from East York, we knew it would be like this.
But it doesn’t change the fact I’m enjoying it, rum and Diet in my hand, only water in my belly.
Not a good combination, but I feel amazing.
“You’re sure about Ace, Neve?” Tasia whines, her dark hair braided back, coat left at the door alongside mine, showing off the red crop she’s wearing and low-cut jeans as we sit around a table near the back of the bar.
“Tas.” I take another drink, tossing my hair over one shoulder, my Faust jersey—the one he left me with Casper who winked at me, and told me there were no cameras—alongside my coat at coat check, the green, strappy bodysuit I’m wearing diving into leather pants, my heels giving me an extra three inches when I stand.
The rum burns down my throat as Tas’s eyes find mine, hers wide, a vodka soda clutched in one manicured hand.
“I don’t give a fuck.” The last word slurs a little and Cynthia, on my left, giggles, nearly snorting out her vodka cran.
Tasia tosses her head back and laughs too, white teeth flashing, and with the bass pounding through the room and the liquor in my veins, this is the most relaxed I’ve been in weeks.
I have to admit, seeing Sylvan Connor try and beat the shit out of a guy who put him up against the boards was attractive. Not so good the Dragons lost in a shootout, not so great Sylvan got a five-minute penalty for fighting, but overall, sexy as hell.
I feel myself start to sweat but after coming in from the cold, I don’t mind.
The fireplace just past Cynthia and Karter—deep in conversation now—is warm, I know I look hot, and we’re getting an Uber back. Being off campus, away from the deaths, it makes me feel less paranoid.
But when a quick hush falls over the lounge and I lift my eyes up toward the side entrance—alongside everyone else—my stomach twists into knots.
The boys walk in, freshly showered, changed, and looking more angry than defeated.
Leading the way is Ryles, but just after him?
Sylvan Connor.
He’s dressed in black pants, a white T, and a leather jacket with a hood. I can see the muscles of his abs when he turns to look over his shoulder, and my heart does a backflip.
I sip more of my drink, the commotion of the bar slowly returning but with more high-pitched whispers and higher squeals of delight.
The boys, it seems, are known by sight here too.
Unsurprising, since most of this crowd was at the game judging by the jerseys and team shirts I see, but for some reason, their infamy shocks me.
Not because they aren’t good or attractive, but because until about two weeks or so ago, I didn’t know who they were.
But now that I do, I’m not immune to their magnetism.
Although when Sylvan straightens again, a host in high heels and a short skirt already leading them deeper into the bar, heading toward where I’m sitting with the girls, his eyes lock on mine, and I think it might be better if I were immune.
He’s expressionless, the only word that comes to mind is “cold.”
I feel it as our eyes stay locked and he comes closer with his team, following behind the hostess swaying her hips and making small talk with Ryles.
I know they lost, but no one here seems to care, it’s still early in the season and it was in a shootout. I guess maybe a loss is a loss, what do I know, but Sylvan Connor is staring at me like I personally cost his team the game.
“I thought there wasn’t anything between you two,” Tasia murmurs close to my ear, her straw in her mouth as she, like me, slams down her drink.
I don’t look away from him, anger replacing my confusion. What the fuck do you have to be mad about? “There isn’t.”
“Sure looks like he wants to fuck you to death,” Tasia says, and despite her blabbing nonstop about Ace and repeatedly asking me if I was okay with her hooking up with him, there’s resentment buried in her tone.
“I thought you said he was dangerous. Why do you sound so damn salty?” I can’t help the bite in my tone.
Tasia stiffens, then pulls slightly away from me. “Dangerous can be hot.” She turns to look at me as Sylvan walks past, never breaking eye contact until he has to. “For a night at least.”
I think of Jackson then, at the worst possible time.
With Tasia’s eyes on me, and Faust Darling bringing up the rear of the group of four guys, his dark gaze finding mine too, I feel uncomfortable.
Claustrophobic.
My straw hits air, drink finished, and this isn’t going to be enough to get me through. I stand, needing to breathe as Faust walks past.
“They’re going into the private room,” Tasia mutters with annoyance. “You can’t just waltz back there.”
I sit my drink on the table in front of us with a thunk as Cynthia says my name.
But my blood is pounding in my veins and I’m fucking annoyed.
I round on Tasia, staring down at the little model as she arches her brows and coyly sips her vodka.
“I’m not waltzing anywhere,” I say. “But if you don’t chill with the passive aggressive bullshit, I’ll tap dance on your fucking face.”
“Shit,” Cynthia hisses, and I hear Karter gasp, then laugh.
Tasia swallows, trying to look unaffected, but fuck her, and fuck this place.
Jackson’s body is in my head now, the lie I told to Detective Lincoln rattling around in there too, and the only people who know the truth are the two assholes back in that private room that I can’t waltz into.
I thread my way past Tasia, not gently, my legs knocking into hers as I glare at her and she looks away. Little bitch.
I beeline my way to the narrow corridor behind the fireplace, knowing the bathrooms will most likely be there, because the private room’s location is obvious. It’s further in the back, two double doors caging everyone inside like royalty.
I roll my eyes at the thought, and when I’m away from what felt like everyone’s judging gaze on me, in the confines of the hallway, I take a breath.
The scent of cleaning supplies hits my nose, but I guess it’s better than the alternative.
Up ahead there’s a women’s bathroom to the left, men on the right.
But no one is coming in or out and for a second, I just press my back to the wall and breathe.
Cynthia is hot on my heels. I note her out of my periphery but don’t turn to her as she comes to mimic my stance and leans against the wall right beside me, crossing her arms over her chest. In a red maxi dress that’s skin tight, her hair pulled up in a loose bun overflowing with her brown curls, she looks so good.
She could still be out there having fun, getting drunk, and collecting more numbers—although she and the football player, Tylone, have been texting daily.
Regardless, she’s back here with me. The friend and roommate who lied to her and now, is getting in fights with her friends.
“You know,” she says casually, “I don’t like Tasia all that much. If you want, we can both throw punches.”
Despite myself, a laugh bursts through my lips like a seal breaking. “Shut up,” I murmur with no heat, staring at the silver wall. “She’s just got daddy issues.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “Makes two of us.”
“I don’t know, the way Faust Darling was looking at you, I think he’s your daddy now.”
My eyes widen as I turn to my best friend and she’s grinning from ear-to-ear.
“You’re unbelievable,” I say with a mirroring smile, a blush hitting my cheeks because honestly, that word has never, ever appealed to me but if I had to use it on anyone in bed, it would definitely be Faust.
“Tasia is just jealous because she wants to grind all over Sylvan’s dick one more time and she knows that even as she tries to steal the man you had first, what was his name?” She snaps her fingers. “Spade?”
I’m laughing all over again. “Ace.”
“Yeah, same thing. Anyway, she knows you’re the only one with the chance.”
“I don’t think she’s used to not getting her way.”
Cynthia ducks her chin and levels me with a look. “She better get used to it, because she doesn’t know you.”
A shadow falls over the both of us before I can reply to that, and when I lift my gaze above my friend’s head, Faust is there like a shadow, quiet and unmoving.
Cynthia notices my distraction and turns.
Immediately, she rolls her eyes, then glances at me. “You good?”
I nod once. I don’t know what he wants to say to me but it could be about the murder investigation or Sylvan’s fucking attitude, and I’d rather hear either thing alone.
“I’ll catch up with you soon,” I promise Cynthia, nodding toward her and hoping she knows how grateful I am that she came out to check on me.
Cyn smiles, then shoots a glare at Faust for good measure before stalking back down the hall, her heels clicking.
A guy brushes by us both, exiting the bathroom, and I see him do a comical double-take at me, right in Faust’s view.
“You good?” Faust challenges the guy, his voice low.
The other man sucks in a breath, stares at Faust, then double-takes him too. “Oh, yeah, sorry, man, I didn’t realize she was your girl.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Good game by the way. You guys tried hard.”
I wait for Faust to correct him, because I am absolutely not his girl, but he says nothing, only stares the man down until he walks away, disappearing from view. Of course he doesn’t say anything.
“You enjoy that? Everyone wanting to suck your dick?”
Faust tilts his head as he props one shoulder against the wall, facing me. “I would if you did.”
I push my tongue up to the roof of my mouth and keep my body still, not wanting him to realize how much those words affect me. “What is it you want?” I shrug once. “Besides your dick sucked, because I know you think I’m a whore but I’m not doing that here by the bathroom—”
He grabs my wrist and cuts off my words as he yanks me closer to him. His head bends, his lips by my ear as my heart thunders inside my chest.
“Stop saying that.” The words are ice against my skin. “You’re not a whore.”
I breathe a little laugh. “You don’t know me very well, do you?”
His strong fingers tighten around my bones. “I’m going to.” It sounds like a promise.
I jerk away from him, but it’s him who lets me go. “What do you want?” I demand.
His dark eyes are hard on mine. In a black button down that shows the muscles in his shoulders and his arms, and dark pants I know fit his ass so fucking well, he looks hot as sin.
Sylvan was more casual tonight, switching roles, but Faust looks like I messed up not sleeping with him the other night.
Not for the first time, I’m glad he can’t read my mind.
“To talk.” He nods, indicating the private room no doubt.
“Do you know something I don’t?” My heartrate ticks up. Is it about the investigation? “And why would you want to talk in a room full of your teammates?”
“It’s only Connor in there. The rest of the team left to find distractions.”
My cheeks warm. “So you want me alone with you and Sylvan again?” I snort. “No, thanks.”
“I don’t know whose fucked with you before, but it’s just a talk, Neve. No one is going to hurt you.” The way he says it, like a threat, it makes my body grow hot, my chest tight, my heart melting.
I try to shake the sensation. He doesn’t care about me like that. He only wants me close so we all have the same information about the murders.
But maybe I should let Salty Sylvan know I lied to a police officer for him. Perhaps that will get both of them off my back.
My limbs feel tense and I need more alcohol, dread coiled tight in my stomach. But I force myself to say, “For a minute. Only talking. I have a girl’s night to get back to.”