25. Riley
Before I can dosomething really stupid, like turn around and wrap my arms around Dante’s shoulders so he can kiss me properly, he releases his hold on me and steps away.
“I’ll see you downstairs, princess,” he says, giving me one more lingering look before he strides out of the bathroom.
I really must be crazy to keep feeling like there’s something between us. There can’t be. Not anything real. But the phantom touch of his lips on my skin lingers as I take care of my hair and makeup, and when I finally head downstairs, my stomach is still fluttering.
“Stupid,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head as I leave the bathroom and head down the stairs. Even if there could be the spark of something real between us, my focus needs to be on the true reason I’m here.
I’ve started to feel almost sympathetic toward the Reapers in this “war” they’re having, rooting for them where just a few weeks ago, I would have lumped all gangs into the same stay-the-fuck-away category. But like Dante implied, maybe this escalating feud they have with West Point really will work out in my favor if it gets them to move faster when it comes to getting Chloe back.
I’m not entirely sure what role I’ll play in that mission tonight, or even how going to this West Point owned club is supposed to help, but that’s where my focus needs to be. Not on anything else.
Whatever they want from me tonight, whatever they tell me to do at the club, I’ll do it. The Reapers may not be my friends, but for now, at least, we have a common goal.
I hear the three men talking quietly in the front entryway once I reach the bottom of the stairs, and they look up as I approach.
“There she is.” Dante gives me a broad smile, his eyes moving over me appreciatively even though he just saw me upstairs.
My steps slow, my heart thudding heavily as heat sweeps through my body like wildfire.
Because he’s not the only one who’s staring at me.
All three pairs of eyes—vivid green, piercing gray, and pale ice blue—lock on to me like lasers. The men are dressed in suits, and even though their clothes hide the tattoos beneath for the most part, they all still have a dangerous edge to their appearances.
Maddoc’s eyes burn with something that reminds me of the way he looked at me last night, and even Logan… fuck. I shiver. Even he looks at me with raw heat in his eyes before his usual mask of cold indifference descends, snuffing it out.
I swallow, not sure what to do with that, or with the way my body reacts to it.
But before I have time to figure it out, Maddoc ruins it like he always does.
“You’re late,” he says in a clipped voice, making my hackles go up.
I’m definitely not late. If there’s one thing working the stage at Club M has taught me, it’s how to make myself look totally fuckable in record time.
“If you’re in such a goddamn hurry, then why are you just standing there eye-fucking me?” I shoot back, breezing past him and toward the door.
Dante chuckles, and I bite back a smile as Maddoc’s jaw clenches. I’m sure he picked up the not-so-subtle reference to what happened last night, the way he fucked that other girl without ever taking his eyes off me, and I hope my unspoken message is loud and clear.
You fuck with me? I’ll fuck with you right back.
Luckily, once we leave the house, I can focus on things other than all the shit that’s gone down between me and these men. The guys spend the drive exchanging cryptic information, and I listen carefully to all of it. It really is like they’re going over a battle plan, and even though Dante already told me the club we’re headed to is owned by West Point, it’s the wolf-like, predatory intensity they each radiate that drives that point home to me.
Logan’s phone vibrates as Maddoc pulls the Escalade into a parking lot two blocks down from the club. I’ve never been to this place, but I’m familiar with it. A couple of the girls I used to work with mentioned it a time or two.
“Don’t they have valet parking?” I ask, earning me a wink from Dante and a scowl from Maddoc.
Logan, of course, ignores me. Aside from that moment in the kitchen and the flash of heat in his eyes when I came downstairs, he’s barely even acknowledged my existence today, let alone any of what happened in my bedroom last night.
The spot on my chest burns, more from the memory than from the actual cut, which has already healed over into a thin red scab that’s hidden by my dress.
“No fucking way am I putting our transportation at the mercy of West Point,” Maddoc growls, actually answering my question straightforwardly.
Right.
This isn’t a fun night out, this is some kind of mission into enemy territory. One I still don’t really understand why they’ve included me in, unless it’s just that Maddoc doesn’t trust me alone in their house.
Actually, that’s probably exactly why.
“McKenna’s there,” Logan says, pocketing his phone after he taps out a quick message on it.
“Isaac has eyes on him?” Dante asks, his voice more serious than the light tone I’m used to hearing from him.
Logan nods once, then slips out of the Escalade like a silent shadow.
“Here? In the club? Are you going to kill him?” I blurt out, adrenaline slamming into me as I scramble out of the back.
“That would be stupid,” Logan says coldly. He considers for a second, then adds, “Tonight, anyway.”
“Logan’s right. We’re not here to kill him. This is business, and you need to stay out of it,” Maddoc says, glaring at me as if he wasn’t the one who insisted I come along in the first place.
I put my hands on my hips. “Well, what exactly am I supposed to do here? If this has anything to do with getting Chloe back, I want to help.”
“We just need to talk to McKenna, princess,” Dante tells me, stepping in. “We’ve got some shit to discuss with him.”
Maddoc, who seems more on edge than usual tonight, doesn’t say anything else. He just clicks the key fob to lock up the Escalade and then turns and heads toward the club. Logan follows, and Dante offers me his arm like a gentleman.
“Come on,” he says. “And keep your eyes and ears open.”
“For what?”
“Anything useful.” His playfulness vanishes for a second as he gives me a serious look. “But stay out of trouble while we’re in there, okay?”
I grimace. “Trouble has a way of finding me.”
“You got that right.” He shoots me a sinful grin, his casual charm resurfacing.
Sticking close to Maddoc and Logan, we head past the bouncer and into the club.
The music slams into me first, followed quickly by the scent of bodies, alcohol, and smoke. It’s loud and crowded, filled with a seductively pulsing energy that, for a second, makes me wish Dante and I were just here to let loose and dance.
But that’s a fucking pipe dream considering the turn my life has taken recently, so I shake it off and do what he asked me to, looking around as he pulls me through the press of the crowd toward the back of the club. I try to keep my eyes and ears open, even though I can’t imagine what I’ll notice that would be “useful.”
The music is too loud to hear anything, and all I see is the expected mix of gyrating bodies, drunken hookups in dark corners, and a cross section of Halston’s clubgoers trying to see and be seen. Whatever gang business goes on here isn’t going to be out in the open.
Dante tugs me closer as we walk, dragging me right up against him and wrapping an arm around me as he leans down so I can hear him.
“Want a drink?”
“I thought we were here on business,” I say, arching a brow and trying to ignore how good it feels to be tucked against his body like this.
“We are. But that doesn’t mean we can’t…”
Dante keeps talking, but whatever he says is drowned out by a sudden rushing in my ears as I glance to my left and catch sight of a girl with blonde hair dancing on a raised pedestal nearby.
No. Not just a girl.
Chloe.