Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
G RANT
I’ve got my eyes on Kit, making sure she eats and it takes everything in me not to smack the cake out of Rafe’s damn hand. He’s been slacking on his nutrition lately, thinks I can’t tell but I can. He needs protein, not sugary shit. Especially with the way Kit is eyeballing the chocolate cake he’s dished up.
In the end I don’t throw his plate against the wall because Kit nearly chokes when she catches sight of the dancers. They’re naked, or as close to naked as someone can get and manage a halfway decent ballet.
I know about dance and choreography from the years I did it. The dancers flitting about the stage are talented athletes, but that’s not what people are here for. Not really. Yes, they’re here for the beauty and artistry of the dance, but it’s the sex, too. The principal of the troupe spins, the sheer gauzy dress she wears twirling out around her. It’s so thin it looks like spider webs floating in the sun when the light catches the material. A man moves with her and picks her up effortlessly, lifts her and drops her without pause. Kit gasps and grabs my arm when the woman falls but another dancer steps forward to catch her. The sheer skirts of the ballerina flare out as the couple spins. The move is enough to keep the audience at the tables watching intently while the throuple on stage moves as one.
“They’re beautiful,” Kit whispers. She leans forward to get a better look at the dancers and I know why. She isn’t just seeing the dancers. She sees herself.
She sees us.
Rafe reaches out and touches her cheek. “Not as beautiful as you.” Kit’s eyes drift closed and it’s not the dancers that either of us watch.
It’s Kit.
She’s our entire fucking world. Of course there’s no other place Rafe and I care to look but at her. She smiles, the pretty curve of her lips presses against Rafe’s hand when she turns her face into his touch. Kit opens her dark eyes and they sparkle in the low light of the room. I almost groan when she smiles at me. She’s fucking perfect.
“Angel,” Rafe whispers and I have to find it in me not to knock him out when Kit’s eyes go to him. Being with Rafe is tenuous. The tension and urge to break each other rises up quick and fast when we’re not careful but it’s getting better.
“C’mere.” He holds a hand out to Kit and she slips her hand in his.
The sight of her touching him doesn’t piss me off the way losing her attention did. Seeing Kit with Rafe? That’s more than fine for me, I like to watch.
I love to watch her when she’s lost in herself and the way Rafe is making her feel.
When she goes to Rafe her skirts float around her as the soft music playing rises in a crescendo. The sound of drums joins the strings and a woman starts to sing. It’s all just noise. The only sound that matters is the moan from Kit when Rafe settles her on his lap and kisses her neck. He angles his chair so they’re able to watch the stage as he slides his hands lower to gather her skirts.
“It’s time,” he says quietly and gives me a nod.
Anyone else would have alarm bells ringing in their heads if they were alone with Rafe and I with him saying that, but Kit? She leans right into him with a trusting smile on her beautiful face. She knows she’s safe with us.
Even if she ran from us, we wouldn’t hurt her. We would drag her ass right back where it belonged, though. Chain her to the fucking bed and make sure she never sets foot out in the world again-
“ Grant .” Rafe says my name like a curse and I snap back to reality. “You with me?”
“Yeah, I’m with you.” I stand from my seat and pluck the black box from the center of the table before I go to my knees in front of Kit.
“What’s going on?” Her big brown eyes go from me to Rafe and back again before she clears her throat and looks at the box I’m holding. “What is that?”
“Not a ring. Not yet,” I tell her with a smile, snapping the box open in front of her. The knives glint under the lights of the room. They’re small, made special to fit Kit’s grip and hand. She’ll be able to handle them easily, not like the ones she’s been using during our training. Those are too big, too heavy for her to get comfortable with them.
“We had these custom-made for you,” Rafe tells her as he nudges her towards the box. The blades are titanium, thinner, so she’ll be able to conceal them easier. The handles are mother of pearl, something pretty for her to look at before she uses them on filth.
“A dress, a bracelet and now this?” Kit whispers as she leans forward to touch one of the knives with a smile. “I love them, but why–?” She doesn’t finish her question and it hangs heavy in the air. Rafe looks my way but I only stare at Kit. It’s me that answers her.
“You should have something just for you, to protect yourself. We’re going to step up your training.”
Kit bites her lip. “You’re worried about the photos. They’re getting closer.”
I think about lying to her but I don’t. Kit would know. “They are. We want to know you’ll be protected, even when we’re not with you.” I wanted to get her a gun but Kit won’t use it on account of the gun jamming the one time we tried to show her how to shoot.
She nods and picks up one of the knives with a heavy sigh. “You won’t have to worry about me. I promise.” She turns the knife and spins it with a graceful twist of her wrist and Rafe catches her hand.
“Someone’s been practicing,” he murmurs before he drops the knife back into the box and kisses her neck. “Why don’t you show me what else you can do, hmm?”
Kit squirms in his lap and reaches back to wrap an arm around his neck. “ Rafe ,” she whispers, dragging her fingers through his dark hair. I rock back on my heels and watch them together. We should talk about the photos, about what it will take to keep Kit’s privacy safe but we don’t. Instead, I drop the box back onto the table and slide back into my seat.
He hums and bows his head, lips moving down the side of her neck. “Are you enjoying the show?” he murmurs and I don’t know if he’s talking to Kit or me. I stay silent but lean back in my chair and watch my girl and my idiot boyfriend together.
I watch her hand flex in Rafe’s hair and I shift when my blood starts to heat. There’s no way watching them like this isn’t going to have my dick hard. Rafe slides his hand under her skirts and the material bunches and waterfalls over his big hand as Kit’s legs part. She shifts, weight moving to the balls of her feet as she moves herself back to grind on him and I know he’s just as hard as I am.
“I am,” Kit says, answering for the both of us.
Rafe moves and I know he’s touching her from the quick little gasp Kit lets loose. He strokes her slowly, from the rise and fall of his hand under her dress, as he curls his free hand around her throat. I know what Kit is feeling. The weight and warmth of Rafe’s touch while she starts to fall head over heels right into the bottomless ocean of pleasure that exists solely from Rafe’s creation. I swallow hard, the ghost of his grip on my throat is still fresh. He’s impossible to resist when he’s focused on you.
I know it firsthand, same as Kit.
“Give her more,” I order and he looks up at me.
Rafe smiles, wicked and dark and from the way Kit’s body jerks, I know he’s touching her just the way she likes.
“How much?” Rafe asks. His eyes drop to the hand that I’ve got on my dick and when I squeeze it, he grins. “How much do you want me to touch her?” he asks again.
I jerk my chin at the table in front of us. “Eat her pussy. Fuck dinner.”
He gives the still fully laden table a dubious look but does exactly like I tell him to.
Good boy.
Rafe rises from his chair and brings Kit with him. She’s pliant in his arms, letting him move her the way he wants until he’s turning her around and shoving dinner plates and glassware to the side to make space for her on the table in front of me. Something hits the floor but none of us pay it any mind. With the reputation The Cellar has, a broken dish is nothing. As if for emphasis, a woman’s moan floats through the air, the singing now turned to more.
I don’t need to look down at the stage to know what’s happening when there’s another moan, not an answer, but an echo. The bodies that moved together as one aren’t just dancing anymore–they’re fucking. By the end of the night I’m certain half the clientele now enjoying their dinners will be indulging in their own happy ending. We’re just ahead of schedule is all.
“Oh god, yes,” Kit grips the table edge and sobs when Rafe falls to his knees in front of her, burying his face between her thighs. He grips her hips and the material of her dress bunches in his hands as he uses it to hold her down.
Kit bites her lip and turns to look at me. “Please, please, please. ”
Rafe grunts and from the satisfied moan he gives, I know he’s ready to give Kit whatever she asks him to. But she isn’t looking at him. She’s looking at me.
I lean forward and brush her hair away from her face. “What is it?” I ask her as I press my thumb to her bottom lip. “What do you want, sweetheart?”
She blushes, that pretty pink dusting across her skin when I call her ‘sweetheart.’ It doesn't matter that she’s dating two murderers, Kit is still a romantic, prone to blushes and coy looks when we do the mundane things she likes. I would give this woman the world, do anything, be anything for her, and it’s the small things like pet names that have her looking at me shyly while Rafe goes down on her.
“I want you,” Kit whispers. When she reaches for me I catch her hand and kiss her palm. “I need you, Grant.”
I squeeze her hand and nip her thumb. “How do you want me?” I already know what she wants. She’s going to reach for my belt and beg to taste me just the way Rafe is devouring her. It’ll be a good warm-up to what we do to her tonight. But before Kit can answer me, something happens.
There’s a slide of a lock, the sound so slight that if I wasn’t as hypervigilant as I am it would have been missed. But I am who I am, so I hear the fucking lock a split second before the door moves. I grab one of Kit’s knives off the table and that’s when Rafe clues the fuck in. He lifts his head from between Kit’s thighs and zeroes in on the door I’m already moving towards. I angle myself and shove my body in front of Kit to hide her while I hear the distinct rapid-fire click of a camera.
“ Rafe !” Kit moans and I know she hasn’t heard what we both have. She doesn’t know some fucker is trying to get photos of her. The thought makes me angry. She shouldn’t have to worry about this kind of thing, but she’s ours. Which means the world is out to get her. I rip the door open and swing, half expecting to catch a lowlife with a camera to their eye but when I do, there’s no one there and my fist catches air.
“Where are they?” Rafe calls out to me. I can hear Kit’s muffled voice, she’s confused from the tone of it, but I shut it out when I catch movement at the end of the hallway. It’s not the way we came. That way leads back to the entrance. Whoever just went down the hall is going somewhere else.
Definitely the camera fucker.
I take off down the hallway and trust Rafe will stay put with Kit. He’ll keep her safe while I find this fucker who thought they could exploit what belongs to me. I know exactly what a photo of the three of us would go for if the tabloids caught wind of it. Easily tens of thousands. Everyone knows we’re dating Kit but they don’t say much other than a few off-color jokes because Rafe and I are too powerful. As much as they might blush and pearl clutch, they know we make bank for them when it comes to the box office. We’ll get work because they need us and if they want either of us, they’ll keep their fucking mouths shut.
That doesn’t mean a photo won’t blow Kit’s career up. She’s not bulletproof the way we are.
“She’s so fucked once they drop her but like, can you blame her?”
That was what one woman cackled about on a podcast I know Kit loves to listen to while she works. That happened last month and I haven’t heard her put it on since. Rafe and I aren’t going to drop her, we’re hers. She won’t have to worry about having to carry on without us or being blacklisted. I’m going to handle this fucker. Up ahead of me I heard the slam of a door and I put on a burst of speed. At the end of the hallway is a stairwell and when I crash through the doors its silent. Whoever I’m chasing isn’t that fast, they must have only gone up the single floor it takes to hit the street level. I know I’m right when I exit the stairwell and see the back of a short man hunched over his camera and I smile. There’s an exit door in front of him, the red light of it glows like a way out for me. I’ll kill him and kick his useless body out through the exit. We chose this place for a reason. There’s no cameras, no one would ever come here if there were. Only the richest and most influential clientele are allowed through its doors. The man currently fondling his camera like he just found a golden ticket is neither of those things.
Who snuck him in?
The weight of Kit’s new knife feels good in my hand and I’m glad I get to be the one to feed her blade for the first time with this sorry sack of shit who thought he was going to make money off of her and ruin her life. I’m going to make him tell me who his contact here is and go after them next. They’re all going to pay.
I keep my steps quiet as I make it halfway down the hall. There’s just another few feet before I get to him when one of the doors flies open and a couple stumbles out, holding on to one another.
“Oh my god, did you see that? Her tits were out!” The woman giggles and throws her arms around her date’s shoulders. “You think I have better tits than hers?”
He holds her close and gives her a wet sloppy kiss. “Baby, you know I do.”
I side step them but it’s no use, the drunk couple blew my fucking chance at slitting the camera man’s throat. I’m still going to smash that camera, though.
He sees me. “Fuck,” he whispers, eyes wide, before he takes off at a sprint. I growl in annoyance when he crashes through the Exit door and into the night, but it’s fine. I’m in top shape and if we’re out in the open I’ll catch him in no time at all.
Except that when I try to shoulder the door open, it doesn’t budge. I take a step back and throw my shoulder into it once again and it moves an inch but not much more. I do it again and hear the scrape of metal on concrete and wince.
He pushed a dumpster in front of the door. Smart.
Normally I could appreciate someone with half a brain but not right now, not when they were after Kit. I throw myself against the door one more time to force the dumpster back another inch before I do it again until there’s enough room for me to work with. I step back and remember all the fucking training I had to do to pass as Iron Shield and kick the door open. It bangs against the dumpster and there’s finally enough room for me to get out into the alleyway and follow the fucking photographer. The cool night air and rain hit me the second I’m clear of the door and I say a silent prayer, because the alleyway is a dead end. There’s not a single fire escape in sight, either.
“Thank fuck,” I whisper. There’s only one way he could have gone from here. I’m down the alley and on the sidewalk in seconds. I see the photographer the second I turn the corner. He didn’t think I was following him if his relaxed pose tells me anything. He’s leaning against a car and breathing hard, his eyes closed with smile on his fucking bland face. He looks like every nameless fuck I’ve passed by without a second glance, but right now?
Right now he’s the most important person in the world to me. Right now, his oatmeal ass looking face is the only one that I see. Brown thinning hair, pudgy cheeks and skin with a sallow tint.
He doesn’t hear me until it’s too late.
Lucky for him, the street we’re on is busy. I can’t fucking kill him out in the open. I might be reckless when it suits me but this is not the time to give into what I want to do. I want to fucking gut him and leave him bleeding out in a puddle of his own piss but that’s going to have to wait. because if I have to listen to Rafe bitch one more time at me I’ll gut him.
With killing off the table, I do the next best thing. I walk right up to him and gut punch him. He’s silent for a second, the smile on his face frozen before his mouth opens and he gasps and chokes.
“ Ughhgh !” The sound of him choking attracts a look from a couple walking by so I grab him around the shoulders and pull him against my side when his legs nearly give out. I’m not surprised when he pukes from how hard I hit him.
“You okay there, buddy?” I ask and smile like I’m helping him. I nudge him forward and he steps in his own sick with a groan. “You seriously gotta cut back, I won’t be here to help you next time.” We get passed by a few people who give me sympathetic, knowing looks and good natured chuckles while I help my “friend” back into the alleyway.
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl, slamming him against the wet brick of the building the second we’re out of sight.
“I- ughh -,” he tries to talk but it’s just another bunch of gasping that has me sighing and grabbing his camera from him.
“I didn’t hit you that hard, get the fuck over it.” I pop the memory card out of the camera and pocket it. “Who are you working for? You freelance?” I ask and unscrew the lens from his camera before I slam the end of it against the brick wall. I know it doesn’t take much to ruin a camera lens, so the slam is more for me on account of not being able to kill him. I drop the camera and lens on the ground and grab his shirt when he doesn’t answer me.
“I said, are you freelance?”
“I-uh, yeah, I’m on my own.”
“How long have you been following us? You the one taking pictures of her on the lot?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “What? No, god . Tonight is the first time I managed to actually find you. I didn’t even think this place was real.”
“And how, exactly, did you do that?” He looks to the side like he’s thinking of not answering me, so I slap him. “I said, ‘ how exactly did you do that ?’”
His head snaps to the side and he stares at me with wide, watery eyes. “You fucking hit me. Oh my god, you hit me. Again .”
“I’ll do more than that,” I snarl, giving him a shake before I take a closer look at him. “Are you fucking crying ?”
He sniffles. “You hit me really hard, okay?”
I sigh and take a step back from him. “Who were you selling the photos to?”
“I don’t know! I didn’t think I’d actually get the door open. I-I thought this was a longshot but it worked and now you hit me! Oh my god, I puked all over myself.”
I want to keep questioning him but killing him is out of the question. People know I’m here with Kit and Rafe. If he shows up dead in the alley of the restaurant we were seen at for our anniversary, it isn’t going to go well for us. That’s too much attention. Plus, the fact that a whole crowd of people saw me with the reporter.
If it was just me, I might risk it. With Kit?
Not a chance.
Besides, I’m not giving Rafe something to bitch about. The man nags like a mother hen. In the end, the choice is taken out of my hands when a car pulls into the alleyway and bathes us in light. It’s a sleek town car meant to blend in and when it pulls up to the door I kicked open, I know why.
This is the VIP entrance. It’s the one we should have taken Kit through but we decided to give her as normal of an experience as possible and brought her in the front.
I slap the reporter across his mouth and he gasps. “You came in this way, didn’t you?” I ask while I hear car doors opening behind us. They’re going to be fucked trying to get in with the way the dumpster is still sitting in front of the door. I’ve only got a few minutes at most before they notice me and ask what the fuck is up with the dumpster. I move into his space and start patting him down.
“Y-yes,” he stammers, clutching at the camera I shove against his chest. “I thought it was a scam.”
“What was a scam?”
“My connection said that the door would be unlocked and that I could get in that way. They said-they said I’d be able to find you if I used the VIP entrance.”
“Who was it?” I open his wallet and pocket his license before I slip it back into his jacket.
“Who was who?”
“The connection, you idiot.”
“I don’t know. It was a woman. She didn’t let me see her face and she had a voice changer.”
“So how the fuck do you know it was a woman?” I ask and he freezes.
“Oh, uh, I guess I don’t…” his voice trails off and I hear the driver of the town car call out to me.
“Do you know why this door is blocked?” I look over my shoulder to see a driver looking pissed and trying to move the dumpster while a woman in a couture dress huddles close to a man who looks as pissed as I feel. I squint and try to place the man because he looks familiar. Older than me by a decade or two, salt and pepper hair with glasses.
I don’t let them know I’m angry though and smile. “Paparazzi did it!” I call out and the man steps forward.
“Grant? Is that you?”
I stare another second before it clicks. It’s Gentry Roland, renowned film composer and the man responsible for the Iron Shield movie scores. After seven movies, I know the man well enough but apparently not enough to recognize him when I’m trying not to kill someone.
I need to work on that. Definitely too emotional.
“Gentry, how’s it going?”
Gentry ambles up to me with his wife in tow and the closer they get, the more genuine my smile becomes. It’s is a good thing they’ve seen me because they know how fucked the paparazzi can be when they think there’s cash to be made. They’ll be good alibis for me not killing this asshole. He’s as good as dead, just not tonight.
“Oh, you know, just out with the missus,” Gentry says and pats the hand of the pretty brunette woman on his arm. She’s clutching an umbrella and sticking to Gentry as close as she can to stay dry but the composer doesn't mind the rain. He leans close and takes a look at the photographer, blinking through the water on his glasses.
“You got throw up on you, son.”
“I, uh, wasn’t feeling well,” the photographer mumbles when I shoot a glare his way.
“Found him inside, brought him out here when he looked queasy, isn’t that right?” I ask and clap a hand on his shoulder.
He winces and nods. “Yeah, that’s right. T-thanks.”
“Oh, your camera, it’s all broken!” Gentry’s wife points at the shattered lens at our feet. “How did that happen?”
Gentry chuckles. “Oh, I think I know. Accidents like that happen all the time in this business, don’t they?” he asks and gives me a knowing look with a wink.
I wink back. “They sure do, especially when all you want is a little peace and quiet on a special occasion. Good thing it’s just a lens, though. Could be a lot worse.”
We all look at the photographer who squirms and nods. “Yeah, it could be.”
“You should get going,” I tell him and then motion for Gentry and his wife to follow me back to the VIP entrance. “I’ll help get that moved and we can get inside before the storm gets worse.”
Gentry’s wife clutches her skirt and gives me a relieved smile. “Oh, thank god. If I ruin this dress the designer will lose it. This is our first night out in months and I wanted to look extra special but then this rain just ruined it.” We only make it a step before she pauses and looks back at the photographer. “Is he okay, though? Maybe we should-”
“You look lovely. This color suits you,” I tell her and from the blush on her cheeks I know she’s forgotten all about the photographer.
“Oh, thank you. I’ve never worn it before and thought it would be fun.”
“It’s more than fun, it’s perfect.”
She giggles and Gentry swats my arm. “You’ve got your own gal, don’t steal my wife.”
I smile good-naturedly and duck my head the way I know I’m supposed to and the conversation turns light. When I glance over my shoulder I see him standing there. Aaron Jamie. I tighten my grip on the license that tells me exactly who he is and where he lives. He’s not getting away from me.
It only takes a second for Aaron to realize I’m looking at him before he bolts and runs out of the alleyway, clutching the remains of his camera.