Chapter 19
NINETEEN
DANI
Two hours later, they manage to convince me to join them at Emma's husband's club, The Viceroy. Everyone in Houston knows the name, as it’s spoken with equal parts envy and intrigue because of its exclusivity.
By day, its sleek metal exterior mixes in with the other steel structures in the downtown area, blending into the hustle and bustle of a busy city.
But by night, it transforms, shining with decadence, glittering in those forbidden nighttime hours.
Whispers create more allure about the hidden club, concealed behind an unmarked door, reserved for only the carefully vetted members who thrive on secrecy and sin.
We slip through the restless line of patrons as the queue curls in an endless S around the block.
We move through the crowd like we own the place.
Well, Emma kind of does. Inside, the perfumed air thickens with the heat of bodies dancing to the high-energy pulse of the dance music.
We weave through the crowded throng of partygoers until we reach the sleek staircase that comes into view, rising into the most coveted section leading to the VIP area above.
Security guards stand sentinel, tracking our movements with cold eyes.
The VIP area opens up to a sea of velvet and dim lighting.
Plush emerald color couches create the illusion of intimacy, but I doubt much goes on that Eduardo doesn’t see.
The area thrums with a sense of danger that calls to me, making me sink into the chair as I kick one leg over it.
My boot presses against the glass balcony.
Gus lingers close by, vigilant as ever over his watch, until another man approaches, trading silent words in the form of a nod before changing places as Gus disappears into the shadows through a rustle of drapes.
Emma catches me staring and tips her chin toward him. “That’s Philip,” she says casually, as if his name should mean something. “He’s single.” Her smile sharpens.
I laugh, shaking my head, unwilling to play along with her matchmaking games.
It’s not the first time. A woman glides to our table, dressed in black, with elegant gold accessories.
Not overdone, but stately. Her pose is effortless, but her judgment is poor.
Her gaze lingers on Jameson, and beside me, I swear I hear Evie hiss under her breath.
The sound jolts me, and I choke on my water. Liv pats my back, smirking.
“Geez, hun,” she teases, her tone dry. “We’re off the clock here.” Then she adds, “But don’t worry, Philip can give you mouth-to-mouth.” But before I can form a comeback, Emma cuts me off.
“Yeah, Liv,” Emma coos, her velvety tone edged with a hint of sarcasm. “We’re off the clock, so why aren’t you having a cocktail?” She studies Liv, giving her a suspicious look, though there’s no actual malice there. Whatever the joke is, I’m clearly not in on it.
A different waitress approaches and sets our drinks down with quiet precision, nodding at Emma in some silent exchange before she leaves without another word. Her indifference is intentional, and the change of waitress a statement.
With the drama concluded, I slip further into the velvety, pillowed cushions, draping my arm over the chair, to indulge in my favorite pastime—people watching.
Below us, people dance, their bodies lost in the lights and shadows of the strobe lights.
In a quick glance, I catch something meant to be concealed by the dim lighting causing the hairs on my arm to rise.
My senses become hyperaware of the danger hiding in plain sight.
It’s this heightened awareness that lets me take in everything unfolding below.
My eyes zero in on a man leaning close to a woman.
His looks are pretty, and his smile is smooth.
His hand is deceptively casual as he drops something into her glass.
It fizzes slightly on impact, but other than that, nothing else is out of order.
She doesn’t notice. She only laughs, tossing her head back at some charming line no doubt, as she takes a big swig out of her drink.
He raises his in mock salute, downing the rest, encouraging her to do the same.
She mirrors him, trusting and unaware of his intentions.
My heart plummets as I see him for what he is—stripped of charm and a well-bred facade.
He is nothing but a predator. He presses closer, angling his body, so the crowd shields them from view.
She sways against him as her movements dissolve into his control.
And to anyone else, it looks like nothing more than dancing.
Like she maintains her own faculties, but I see the subtle falter, the slowing of her movements, and I know that at this point the drugs are taking effect, winding through her bloodstream, and rendering her helpless.
So he’ll make his move soon, and no one will be the wiser.
Except for me, because I notice all those things shrouded in shadows.
I lean forward, tracking his movements, and the shift in my body catches Emma’s eyes.
She looks at me as I stand abruptly. But before she can speak, I yell.
“I’ll be right back!” over the noise. The velvet cushion falls to the floor as I leap from my seat and take the stairs quickly to the lower level.
My pulse beats in time with the bass from the dance floor as I scan the area for them.
I continue to scan the crowd, frantically searching for that tall mop of blond hair, until I spot him.
His arm coils around the woman, holding onto her tightly as she appears to sway in his arms. He guides her to the exit, and I follow.
I stand in the corner, hidden away, embracing the darkness that provides a protective cover and advantage.
He’s talking to another man. Irritation flickers across his face as this interruption keeps him from his real intent.
I take the syringe out of my pocket and uncap it, holding it in my hand, ready to strike at any given moment.
He slips out the back door, causing my pulse to accelerate.
I see him exit into the empty alley. It’s then that I know what his intentions are.
She’s there, pressed against the wall, as she leans limply in his grip.
Her movements are unsteady, and her once cute little skirt is hiked up, her panties torn on the ground, discarded as he undoes his pants.
His eyes meet mine. His predatory focus is clear, knowing he has her cornered and isolated.
I step forward, deliberately slow, keeping to the unlit portion of the wall to disguise my face just in case.
His pupils widen when he sees me approaching, thinking his deal got a bit sweeter—a two-for-one, as his lips twist in a cruel smirk.
“What the fuck do you want, sweets? I’m kind of busy here with my girl.
” The woman leans against him, her head still on his shoulder, as she lies unresponsive to our heated exchange.
I keep approaching, steadily gaining footage.
I notice her eyes open, as her hand twitches just a little in my direction, in a silent plea for help.
And then I charge. The syringe plunges into his neck as the medication sears through his thick skin and rips through the striated tissue fibers beneath.
His reactions are slow to acknowledge what I just did, as he drops the woman and stumbles backward, touching his neck where I stabbed him.
He runs it along the wound, and a smear of blood comes away from the site, gleaming in the dim light.
I used a big ass needle to push the medication faster and harder into the circulatory system.
His eyes bulge with rage and he lunges at me expectantly, seeking vengeance.
I stumble back, but he pins me to the wall, forcing me further into the recesses of the alleyway.
“What the fuck did you give me, you bitch?” he shouts, spittle flying toward my face.
My lips quirk up in a smirk, anticipating what is coming.
His hand shoots to my neck, squeezing as I grit my teeth.
I had taken a deep breath, expecting his maneuver, as he starts to choke me.
But the joke's on him. This loser is nothing but predictable as fucking clockwork. Two minutes stretch like hours, though in reality, it’s less than that.
I feel his hands begin to shake involuntarily, then loosen against his will.
His body drops like a ton of bricks awkwardly onto the ground, convulsing.
I instinctively clutch my throat, gasping as I rub at the sting his grip left behind.
The sensation still feels fresh against my cooling skin.
I let my hand fall away and lean forward, bracing my palms on my thighs.
I’m thankful I had the foresight to hold my breath.
I look over to his flailing body as the medication takes hold of him.
For a moment, I was afraid it would be a subpar dose, but luckily it’s working as intended; otherwise, this could have had a very different outcome.
I sway on my feet before sprinting toward the girl lying on the ground. Just then, I see Emma and Eduardo, along with Gus and his replacement, Philip, merge from the back alley running toward me.
“What the fuck happened?” Eduardo asks, his voice unnervingly calm as if this type of crazy chaos is just another night at the club.
He’s too calm considering a man is sprawled out on the ground in the alley of his club, and an unconscious girl isn’t far away, as if this shit happens all the time.
I rub at my throat, still trying to recover from the strangulation attempt.
As I try to speak, Philip lifts the girl and carries her around to the back entrance.
Her head hangs limply in his arms until she disappears from view.