Colton
“Stop doing that, you’ll fuck it up,” James lectures as he walks past me into Cirque, noticing the way my fingers pressing into my right thigh, nails digging in to relieve some of the itch that just grows more insistent as the fresh ink heals.
“Fuck off,” I grumble back, switching to scratch the other thigh as I weave him through the club towards Harper's office. It’s the first check-in since the raid, James coming in under the pretense of being a potential member.
She smiles, but it doesn’t become real until she turns to me, asking how the night is going. My skin starts to crawl with all the small talk, and when I look towards Harper’s office, Wade is watching me and mouths hurry up, before turning into her office and shutting the door.
“Sorry, Tessa, I have to bring James to see Harper for his membership interview. Can we catch up later?” I ask her, showing too much teeth when I smile, doing my best to look relaxed.
It backfires.
“Oh, absolutely. I actually was going to see if you wanted to check out this new restaurant down the street with some of the staff and me later,” she asks, and I absentmindedly agree, hand already pressing into Jame’s back in a, not so subtle, gesture to get moving.
“Oh, great! I’ll give you the details later!” she says, cheeks flaming at the unexpected acceptance.
We shuffle into Harper’s office and start the most awkward meeting in the world.
They give James the same rundown I had already briefed him on—that Marcus had some unusual deposits over the last month on one of his bank statements, but nothing large enough to really raise a flag.
At this Sadie reminds me she already did a financial run on the employees.
All I said was that I know she did. She nods her head in understanding, the DEA didn’t trust her to run the financial search, unclear whether it was because they still think she’s in on this or not up to the task I can’t be certain.
We tell him the shipment schedule so they can have teams prepared, and once again he asks where the stash we already found is hidden. And once again Harper smiles and doesn’t answer. She knows the power she holds by keeping that information to herself, and she’s not ready to part with it just yet.
“So, no Bronly with you today?” asks Sadie, her voice its usual shade of chipper.
“No, Bronly is no longer with the Administration,” answers James, making my head snap in his direction. This is probably not the first time I should be hearing about this. It would appear I’m no longer trusted at Cirque, or the DEA. Lovely.
“Oh, no!” Sadie whines, her pout exaggerated. “What happened? Sorry, I don’t want to ask unsolicited questions or proposition you for information. Just curious.” She giggles, adding enough emphasis to parts of her question that there is no way we don’t all know exactly what happened to Bronly.
Wade brings his hand up to his mouth, a poor attempt to cover his smile as he brushes his fingers back and forth over his short stubble.
“Anyway, if we can get back to the topic at hand, you have nothing new, basically,” says James, nothing accusatory in his tone, but the words still causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand at attention.
Sadie glances over to her sister, the movement quick but not unnoticed, before she speaks.
“Well…” she trails off when Harper glares back, hissing her name that promises punishment before she can get another word out.
“They should know, Harper. Maybe they can help,” pleads Sadie, pulling out her phone. I hold my hand out, ready to take the phone from her, but she grunts, lifting it over my hand to drop in Jame’s lap.
“Well, fuck,” he mutters, running a hand over his face as he zooms in and out of the photo.
I look at Harper, who still stares at her sister with murder in her eyes. “What happened?”
“Her apartment was broken into. And ransacked. And they left another fun surprise,” Sadie answers as James hands me the phone. “She’s been staying with me for the last few days.”
I look at the photo. Ripped clothes scatter the floor I once crawled over.
The cushions are slashed on the couch where I laid my head on Harper’s lap and fell asleep while she ran her fingers through my hair.
There’s a red-painted jester hat thrown at the wall that used to house a framed photo of Harper and Sadie with their dad.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She could have stayed with me. I could have made sure no one got to her. I could have been there.
“Because you lost the right to know.” Her answer is swift, but the sting lingers.
“So, they are escalating,” says James, clearing his throat.
“Which means we need to as well. And I think I have an idea of how to get some information from the rest of the staff. If you two are done with whatever the fuck this is.” He gestures between me and Harper, who doesn’t bat an eye at the call-out.
“Let’s hear it,” says Wade.
“Well, I think it’s actually pretty simple. Colton needs to go out with Tessa.” Sadie cackles as Harper turns the glare on James.
“And how would that be helpful, exactly?” she asks.
“Well, she’s the bar manager. She would know a lot about the other people who work here.”
“Great, then you ask her out,” Wade replies.
“Yeah…you’re more my type than she is, big guy,” says James, winking at Wade.
“Look, she clearly has a crush on Colton. It’s perfect.
She even invited him to something tonight with the rest of the staff.
It’s the perfect opportunity for him to go out and see what information he can gather.
You know, the job he’s supposed to be doing.
Unless you think his continuing to pine over you is helping get you back into your own apartment faster.
Then, by all means…” James trails off, his words harsh but true.
I haven’t been focused, all my energy spent worrying about Harper and me, instead of Harper and Cirque.
“It’s a good plan,” I admit, watching Harper for any signs of anger.
“I agree, it is,” she says with absolute practicality. Like we just agreed to a lesson plan on how to draw shapes, not setting me up on a date with another woman.
We look around the room, and everyone silently nods their assent. “Perfect, better go tell your date the good news.”
And just like that, I’ve been dismissed. The ink on my thighs burns with each step to the bar where Tessa waits eagerly. My date.