Chapter Three – Jack
Chapter Three
Jack
Even above the din of the club, I heard Angela call my name.
I bolted from the room at the sound, plunging through the crowds of men watching the girls on stage, until I found myself in the room where I’d personally entertained those five women—except now there was quite a different show happening on stage.
I reached Maya’s side in a heartbeat and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her back. I smelled sex and cum—but there wasn’t any blood, yet. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked back, glaring at me as her fangs receded. She was completely unashamed I’d caught her here, getting fucked and fucking. I couldn’t say the same for Angela, who was trying to cover herself up with her skirt, but moving like her back had been snapped.
“Let them go,” I growled.
“I would’ve only taken a little. And then I would’ve told them to forget.”
“Let them go, or I’ll take your teeth.”
Maya growled back, but made a negating sound, and suddenly Angela was able to scurry back the way she wanted too. I threw Maya against the opposite wall as Rosalie and Tamo walked in.
“Did you know about this?” I confronted her. Angela rolled off the stage and was rounding on Mark, helping him to pull up his pants like a child.
“No,” she said, giving Maya an almost palpable wave of disdain.
“They were handsome, and I was hungry,” Maya said.
“I remember you, sparkling one.” Rosalie walked over, grabbed Angela’s wrist, and let go just as Angela shook her off. “She’s laced with silver, Maya. I doubt you would have survived your indiscretion—you’re lucky Jack saved you.”
“Just what the hell is happening?” Mark asked, finally returning to himself.
Angela had gotten his pants zipped and his belt buckled, but his shirt was still untucked, and I was sure his balls felt lighter.
He immediately made himself big and tried to control the situation.
“Who are you all? Where’s Mr. Bjornson?”
“I humbly and deeply apologize for making you wait here,” Rosalie said, taking point, pressing an earnest hand to her décolletage and bowing slightly.
“Who the fuck are you?” Mark asked, grabbing Angela, holding her firmly to his side.
“I’m Mistress Rosalie, the owner of this establishment. I believe you recently sampled some of our delights.”
Mark’s hand around Angela’s shoulder tightened. “You—she,” he sputtered as his neck spun. Once he’d spotted Maya he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight again.
“Go,” Rosalie said, and a half-naked Maya ran for the door.
“She tricked us. She used me,” Mark started explaining, both to himself and to Angela.
“I know, baby, I know,” she crooned. “It’s okay, we need to leave this place, all right? Whatever they’ve got—it’s not worth it.” She gave me a look over her shoulder that broke my heart.
“Come now,” Rosalie said, placing herself between them and the door. “Something tells me you enjoyed it. The both of you. Even if you don’t fully understand why.”
“We’re leaving,” Mark announced, and grabbed Angela so firmly it was clear he’d carry her out the door if he had to.
“What happened to you is why they can protect her,” I said. It was also the only excuse for why I’d brought her here.
“Indeed.” Rosalie made a gesture, and Tamo brought her a chair, in which she sat down. “You can go and forget this night ever happened, counting down the moments until the Pack regains your girl—or you can listen to my terms.”
“Which are?” Mark asked archly.
“We’re vampires, dear boy. And your girl—while she’s not one of us, we are akin.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose high, as he swiveled his head to include me. “Vampires? Please.”
“Stand straight. Let go of the girl.” Rosalie said and Mark hopped to.
“Do jumping jacks. Go fuck a tree,” she said with less conviction and he reached for Angela again.
“I could make you dance like a marionette, but that’s not why either of us are here.
Your girl needs protection from her werewolf ex-boyfriend, and I want access to the Fleur De Lis. ”
Angela’s jaw dropped, as Mark twisted to look at her.
“You hadn’t told him yet?” Rosalie guessed.
“I’d been trying,” she said, to Mark. “I’m so sorry, Mark—I tried, you know I did.”
Rosalie clucked. “Well he’d best listen to me, because we’ve got about four hours left to hammer out a contract if we’re going to. Are we?”
I studied Mark. I’d been jealous of him for so long, this man who was seemingly the answer to all of Angela’s prayers, who could provide for her in so many ways I couldn’t—which way would he cut now that the cards were on the table?
It was like a mask of steel replaced his face as he next spoke to Rosalie. “Go on.”
Mark was not only a lawyer, but a lawyer’s lawyer.
They all sat around a table, Rosalie, Tamo, Angela, Mark; pen and paper were brought out.
Square footages and percentages were discussed until agreed upon, as were the terms of Angela and Rabbit’s safety.
I hung out against the wall, listening, watching Angela react.
Mark seemed to have taken the news of her being a werewolf well, but she was still nervous, I caught her picking at her hem.
She glanced up and noticed me noticing, gave me a look that was difficult to read, and stopped.
They seemed to be in accordance when Mark flipped the paper over to reveal an empty page which he quickly filled with bullet points before presenting it to Rosalie—and when she read it, she recoiled.
“You’re joking.”
“It’s the only way I’ll sign it.” He twisted in his seat to see me. “Come here, Jack.” I stepped forward and he shoved the paper into my hands. “I trust you—I think. Or I trust that you love Angela enough to not let anything bad happen, at least.”
I had the unfamiliar sensation of blood rising to my cheeks, and glanced over at Angela, as she looked away. “Yeah.”
“So read it. Is it solid?”
Angela was still looking elsewhere. I’d been a fool to bring her here and put her in so much danger—my gaze slowly fell to the sheet of paper I held.
On it, Mark had done an amazing job of cornering Rosalie.
All the arrangements they were making tonight were final, neither one of them could ever change a thing—which was to say that she couldn’t control Mark into changing his mind later—and that if something happened to him, the contract immediately became null and void, and whatever business enterprise Rosalie had built within the Fleur would—quite literally, according to the terms he’d set—have to be destroyed.
Rosalie would get everything she wanted—but keeping it would depend on Mark still breathing.
I nodded to Mark and handed it back, but Angela intercepted it, reading it quickly. “All this—for a week?”
“Mostly just the next forty-eight hours,” Rosalie said.
“Getting you and your son’s trails cleared will be the biggest hurdle.
My magician will be ready by eleven tomorrow night—I’ll send him over—and then after that, we’ll transport you to my bunker.
Past that, your man here will have to figure how to get you safely out again. ”
“Where will we go? What will we do?” Angela asked, turning towards Mark. He still had his mask of steel on.
“First, we need to finalize our contract.”
Which is how—a few hours later—I learned that in addition to having all night tattoo parlors, Vegas also had all night notaries.