Chapter 49
CHAPTER 49
“C’mon, let’s go,” Abbey murmured, her voice soft and coaxing as she pressed against Brick, her breath warm on his ear. The faint scent of her perfume mingled with the sharp tang of tequila that lingered in the air between them and as she nuzzled his neck, her lips left a bold red stain on his collarbone, a mark as unapologetic as her presence.
Brick tilted his head back, eyelids heavy with a drunken haze as her fingers trailed over his chest, tracing patterns on his half-open shirt.
“Yeah, babe.” His words slurred together as he clutched a shot glass of neon-green liquor—something Lisa had insisted he try before they left—while his other hand rested limply on Abbey’s hip.
Abbey’s gaze flicked over Brick’s shoulder, catching on Devon weaving through the crowd toward the bar. She studied him, her expression shifting before she snorted softly. “Maybe he’s not such an asshole after all.” Her lips curled into a smirk before she turned back to Brick, who was too far gone to notice.
Devon leaned against the bar, elbows braced against its polished surface as though staying upright required effort. His knuckles were bruised and he could feel the dried blood crusted his dark hair where Ethan had smashed the cheap lamp over his head. But here, in the pulsating neon of the club, none of that mattered. This was a chance to rewrite tonight’s script, if only for a few hours.
The bartender worked quickly, pouring tequila into four glasses lined up like soldiers. The amber liquid caught the light and gleamed like molten gold beneath electric-blue strobes. On the tray sat a small pile of lime wedges and a salt shaker that looked comically out-of-place amid the bar’s sleek modernity.
Devon’s grin was a mask honed over years of hiding whatever churned beneath. He reached into his pocket and fished out a crumpled twenty, but froze when his fingers brushed something smooth and cold: a small vial of clear liquid. His smirk wavered as he withdrew his hand and handed over the twenty.
Not yet. Timing was everything, and Lisa’s watchful gaze across the room reminded him he wasn’t operating unnoticed.
He returned to the booth, balancing the tray. “Doubles!” he announced loud enough to cut through the music.
Devon’s gaze flickered toward Lisa before snapping back to Brick.
Brick didn’t look up at first, too preoccupied with Abbey’s breasts as she draped them over him. His hands were unsteady, and as he reached for the glass, he spilled tequila over the rim. “Hell yeah,” he finally barked, slamming back the shot without salt or lime.
The burn hit instantly, spreading through his chest like wildfire, leaving him lightheaded and grinning.
“Another!” he demanded with a half-choked laugh.
Abbey grabbed her glass, raising it in a theatrical salute before tossing it back in one swift motion. She winced—her face scrunching—before dissolving into laughter. “To an epic night!” she declared loudly, drawing cheers from a nearby table.
Lisa followed, downing hers without ceremony. Her lips pressed together afterward as if mentally cataloging every detail unfolding around her.
Devon lingered over his drink, lifting it slowly and letting its sharp scent fill his nostrils before taking a measured sip that contrasted with Brick’s abandon.
“Another round?” he asked, setting his empty glass upside down.
Brick mumbled something, nodding sluggishly, as though each movement required monumental effort. “Why not. Party at mine’s gonna go off.”
Abbey giggled like it was some grand proclamation, while Lisa’s smirk deepened slightly.
The club surged with chaotic energy, flashes of color slicing through clouds of mist while bodies ground together on the dance floor. The air was thick enough to taste—spilled alcohol and faded cologne.
“Can we just go?” Abbey urged, tugging at Brick’s arm until he swayed but remained seated, too unsteady to coordinate standing up.
Devon stepped in, his bruised knuckle visible as he gripped Brick’s forearm. “She’s right… let’s go.” Using his strength, he hauled Brick to his feet, steadying him when he stumbled forward. A flash of something filled his expression as he slipped a hand into his pocket, the cool glass vial brushing against his fingers like a secret, waiting for its big reveal.
Outside, an Uber idled by the curb and they piled inside one by one—ending this chapter and giving way to whatever came next in this unwritten game where no one played fair.