Chapter 6
A few days later…
After leaving his car blocks away, Dash strode through the timeworn industrial district, his boot heels echoing as he moved.
Few businesses continued to operate there.
Most had moved to the other side of the province or one of the smaller ones where the tax rates and limitless space was more conducive to their growth.
Even with few inhabitants, there was still plenty of trash left behind, littering the alleys like flotsam from the old, massive vessels of a once thriving industrial sector.
The red brick warehouses were now a waste of space, ghosts of the profitable past—except to the graffiti artists who used them as canvases for their bright, creative work.
The scent of petrichor filled Dash’s nose.
Rain was desperately needed, especially in that dank, dusty part of town.
Dash paused under a streetlight near his target location, lifting his gaze to the stars twinkling in the night sky, and filled his lungs with a steadying breath.
His hands trembled, and he considered pulling out his phone and calling Mason.
He shouldn’t have come alone.
What if he had another reaction like the one he’d had with Emerson?
A pair of alphas whipped around the corner and nearly plowed into him. He stepped aside to let them pass, noticing the curious look they gave him. Dash immediately knew who they were.
What they were.
Like him.
Only not.
The larger of the two gave him a curt nod, as if to say ‘I see you’ before they walked on past, slipping into an alley a few feet away.
Dash sensed he should follow and see exactly where they went, sure they were headed to the same spot he was.
After a few seconds of doubt, he forced himself forward and entered the alley.
There wasn’t much light. He narrowed his eyes to help navigate the narrow space.
Up ahead, there was a small, dim light. Under its circle of illumination, the pair stood in front of another massive alpha.
Before Dash could reach them, they walked past the big guy and disappeared through a metal door.
Dash hung back in the shadows, not sure of the protocol for getting inside.
He inched closer, hoping to catch a word or phrase.
He’d asked Gordon before Mason fired him, but he’d replied they’d never needed anything but their badges and billy clubs to get in.
After that conversation and the evil grin that had accompanied it, Dash had given his full approval for Mason to fire the guy.
Mason mentioned it had been a password when he’d gone years before, but he’d been with a client and couldn’t remember what it had been.
Something like that changed often, so even had he remembered it, it might not have helped.
After waiting for an hour in the damp, smelly alley—and overhearing the words ‘naughty fun’ being repeated to the doorman a few times, he gathered his courage.
How many special ops had he participated in over his near decade with the Black Guard? Not once had he felt as nervous as he did then. Frozen where he stood, he contemplated calling Mason again but refused for the man to see him in such a state.
It was bad enough Mason knew too much as it was.
He pushed away from the brick wall in the shadows and ambled closer, before he lost the nerve.
“Lovely night, isn’t it?” the huge alpha doorman murmured as he neared.
“Sure is,” Dash replied, hoping he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. “I’m hoping for some naughty fun.”
The doorman narrowed his eyes, glaring.
Fuck… did I get it wrong?
“Can you say that again?” the doorman asked. The arrogant cock of his head sent warning bells ringing in Dash’s mind.
“Uhhh… Naughty fun?”
The doorman sighed. “Move along.”
Dash frowned. “I’d like to go inside.”
“Inside what?”
“Inside… the Lucky Dragon.”
“Piss. Off. Guard.”
Dash squared his shoulders. He pulled a fifty out of his wallet and offered it to the man. Money was often the universal password. “I’m not a member of the Guard, and I’m going inside that club tonight. Right?”
The doorman dragged him closer, pinning him against the wall. He slammed his chest against Dash’s. Dash sucked in a breath after having it knocked from his lungs.
“You’re looking for some naughty fun, are ya?” The big alpha caressed the side of Dash’s face. “You want naughty? I can be naughty.”
Dash calmly slid his hand into his pocket for the retractable club he’d carried for protection, holding the man’s gaze.
“You think you can handle me, sexy? Or would my big dick rip you open?” The man chuckled, his breath scented with liquor and cigarettes. “As uptight as you seem, I’d wager the second.”
“Who said I was a bottom?” Dash whispered, his fear dissipating. He slowly smiled. This was the kind of situation he was trained to handle.
Handle it, he would.
Before he could extend the club, a voice rang out near them.
“He’s with me.”
Dash’s head whipped in the direction of that familiar voice, his body tightening. He locked eyes with none other than Emerson Walker.
Fuck.
Of course Emerson would be there that night of all nights.
The doorman released him, taking three steps back. Dash stumbled a bit and used the wall at his back to keep him on his feet. Emerson slid closer and steadied him. Dash yanked his arm away, glaring. Just his luck that the one alpha he wanted to avoid would show up and send him into a tailspin.
Emerson stared at him a few seconds before turning his attention to the doorman. He stepped between them, nose to nose with the big guy who no longer looked all that big in comparison to Emerson.
“Sorry,” the doorman said. He swallowed before forcing a smile. The hard look had left his eyes, and it had been replaced with what appeared to be concern. “Had I known he was with you, Em, I wouldn’t have roughed him up.”
“Well, he is,” Emerson growled, his voice deeper. “No one here touches him.”
What?
Dash’s mouth opened to argue, but given the situation, he clamped his lips closed. Rage boiled within, though. Emerson Walker was going to learn of his displeasure soon enough.
“Good thing you showed up when you did,” the doorman said. “Otherwise, he would’ve walked away limping.”
Dash charged forward. “I’d have liked to see y—”
Before Dash could finish his sentence, Emerson pushed him back. “Trust me. He’s scrappier than he looks. The fight might’ve gone a little different than you imagined.”
The doorman gave Dash another once over, at first skeptical. Once his gaze fixed on Dash’s, a little uncertainty seemed to creep into his eyes. “Doubt that.”
“Maybe we should test that theory,” Dash spat, his voice sounding calmer than he felt.
Emerson grabbed his arm and urged him forward. “Come on, D. Let’s go inside before you ruin everyone’s night.” He turned to the doorman. “Knotty fun.”
Knotty—not naughty?
For fuck’s sake. Dash shook his head. So close, yet so far away.
“He must’ve misheard me,” Emerson said, never taking his eyes off Dash. He turned to smile at the doorman. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s all good,” the doorman said, seeming relieved.
Dash didn’t appreciate being manhandled. He clenched his jaw and let Emerson lead him through the opened door, the urge to put his fist through somebody’s face screaming in his veins.
Once inside, there was another door. Another big, burly alpha guard gave Dash the once over, his gaze landing where Emerson had his hand. Muted dance music filled the space, but not the thumping bass he’d been expecting.
The second doorman nodded at Emerson and said, “Sup,” before opening the second metal door.
What sounded like live music poured through it, the lights brighter than Dash had anticipated.
A long hallway appeared in front of him, the upper part of the walls covered in champagne-colored fabric elegantly draped to form folded repeating patterns with ornate wooden panels below it, painted black.
Near the end, men huddled together talking along the sides of it, making it near impossible to see what the rest of the place looked like.
After the door closed behind them, Dash yanked his arm from Emerson’s grip. “I believe I told you that you were unwelcome. Just so we’re clear, that extends to touching me, too.”
“Some gratitude,” Emerson said, lifting a brow.
“And what was that bullshit about no one touching me?”
Emerson’s jaw clenched, a tick forming on the side.
“I don’t know what kind of dominant head trip you’re on, but don’t try pulling that shit on me,” Dash snapped.
“Head trip? I just saved your ass outside.”
“I didn’t need you. I could’ve held my own,” Dash snapped.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that you could’ve,” Emerson said. “But Lester wasn’t alone. You didn’t know what was going on inside and if there was any danger behind the door.”
He lifted a finger, pointed upwards.
Dash noticed two video cameras. One aimed at the door, and another directed at them.
“They’re all over the place here. Several more are outside,” Emerson said.
“As soon as you fought Lester, others would’ve come out to put an end to it.
I can see you’ve got a fight in you, but I doubt it’s enough to take down several massive alphas at once.
Even if you had, the club would’ve gone on lockdown. You wouldn’t have gotten in.”
Dash narrowed his eyes, wanting to argue—but he had nothing. Emerson had saved his ass.
“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank’ and ‘you’,” Emerson said.
Dash cringed before tossing out an angry, “Thank you.”
Emerson smiled down at him, looking too smug for Dash’s liking. “You need to work on your proficiency in the art of apology.”
Dash rolled his eyes.
“You can dance with me to make up the shortfall,” Emerson murmured.
Dash searched his face, fighting the yes that wanted to rise from his lips. For months, he’d regretted missing that kiss. How difficult would it be to miss a chance to press his body against Emerson’s, if only for a few minutes?
No! He’s too dangerous.