29. This girl is full of surprises – Elijah
29
THIS GIRL IS FULL OF SURPRISES
ELIJAH
S ev follows Aurora toward the buzz of the club down the hall like an obedient dog, and honestly? I don’t blame him.
Who is this girl?
Grunting, I lift one of the two cone-shaped cement door stops along the wall and set it down heavily in front of the back door. It’s heavy as fuck and the ache in my hand worsens from gripping the curved rebar handle, but I pick up and move the other one, too, placing them both to block the door for good measure. It won’t stop them if they get it unlocked, but it’ll slow them down some.
I shake out my hand and hurry to catch up with Sev and Aurora as they cautiously slink along the wall and peer into the open space at the other end of the hall.
I knew she had fire in her from that first moment I saw her, but she’s come a long way from that rainwashed girl on the highway: alone, nervous, and desperate.
And still she hasn’t stopped surprising me. Sev’s right. She does fit. Better than I ever dreamed. And I did dream. From the first night Atticus brought her in, she’s starred in nearly every one of them.
I haven’t felt anything like what I feel around her in longer than I care to admit, and I can’t stop imagining how her lips would taste. Dreaming of the sounds she would make if I touched her just right. I’ve had to take care of the problem myself almost every morning, unable to leave my room until I relented and pictured her face while I fucked my own hand.
But the last dream was different. Terrifying. Tempting.
I dreamt of painting her. She lounged naked on the old settee in the library, lamenting about wanting a snack while I got the curves of her body just right.
I used to dream of painting. Of color and texture and the feel of a brush between my fingers, but not anymore. The dream had woken something in me, and I couldn’t stop imagining what colors I might use to capture the greens and golds in her eyes.
After tonight, I know without a doubt it would take at least nine different hues to get them just right. Maybe more. And capturing the way they gleamed when we left the gallery would be damn near impossible. A challenge that I would have happily accepted if I’d met her just a couple years sooner.
My teeth grind as I catch up to them, wondering why they haven’t gone into the club until I find what they’re looking at.
It’s not a bar. Not a club, either.
Patrons sit sipping cocktails and picking at tapas, cheering and laughing in a bustling dark room as they watch the stage.
A shirtless man with a painted-on mustache and painted-on suspenders kicks high with a dubious look in his kohl-lined eyes as women in bejeweled dance costumes and feathered headdresses flock around him, moving in time to the music.
It’s a fucking cabaret.
“Follow me,” Sev says to Aurora, giving me a meaningful look before slipping into the main space and promptly disappearing into the shadows running along the right side of the room. I look for the exit as I follow them, finding a thick red velvet curtain across the floor that has to be it.
I’m ready to get out there and make a run for it when Sev deviates. From the corner of my eyes, I pick up a quick movement as he snatches something from a low table in a VIP nook carved into the wall. The group of revelers don’t notice at all as they clap and cheer, conversing in French.
Sev pulls Aurora behind the beaded curtain of the next VIP section, and I follow them into the darkness of the unoccupied space.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“We took too long,” he replies. “They’ll have both exits covered by now.”
I get his meaning without the need for explanation. We are going to have company no matter which way we go, and it could get ugly. My pulse picks up, faltering as it slips out of rhythm and I breathe deep to try to bring it back into sync.
Sev brings the bottle he stole from next door to his lips and takes a small swig before rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth and handing it to me.
“Here.”
I take it without looking at the label, hating that I need it. Every deal of Ambrose’s that we’ve ruined over the past two years has come with a stiff shot of whiskey before and after. Just enough to take the edge off. Make my hands stop shaking. Keep the bullshit anxiety at bay.
Tipping the bottle back, I take one long swallow of the foul-tasting liquor and nearly gag as I force it down my throat. The instant I pull it from my lips, it’s ripped away and my eyes go wide as Aurora takes a swig of her own, grimacing as she pulls the bottle away and makes a face that somehow manages to look cute even though she’s clearly disgusted.
“God, that’s awful,” she says, mock gagging as she passes the bottle back to Sev, who’s stopped trying to hide his amusement and, you know, for someone with a bullet hole in his shoulder and his gun in the hands of a woman he barely knows, he’s shockingly calm. I hate him for that—his ability to never take anything seriously until there’s no other option—but it’s also why I love him.
“If they’re blocking both exits, what do we do?” Aurora asks. “Can’t we just call the cops?”
She seems to realize how stupid that would be before we can reply, her gaze dragging to the bag containing approximately two point five million dollars in stolen artwork in my left hand, and the gun in my right.
“Anonymously,” she adds. “We could call them anonymously.”
“They won’t help us,” I tell her. “It’s a deal Atticus made a long time ago. They won’t get involved.”
Her brows draw and for a second I think she might ask something else, but then her gaze drops. “Okay, so we pick an exit and, what? Run?”
“We go out the front,” Sev says, leaning in closer to be heard over the next act coming onto the stage to a roar of raucous applause. “It’s Paris on a Friday night. It’ll be busy and they may not want to risk the added exposure if they start firing rounds into groups of tourists.”
“And what if they don’t care?” My throat contracts around the words. After all the bricks we’ve thrown through the windows of Ambrose’s empire since I got free, what if he’s finally decided anything is worth the risk to eliminate us once and for all.
Or worse, bring me back to that room, put a brush between my fingers, and force me to paint until they bleed.
I can’t do it again. I won’t.
Sev drops a hand onto my shoulder, making me look him in the eye. “If they don’t care, then neither do I, bro. We’re getting home.”
Sev’s face betrays a rare moment of vulnerability, giving a glimpse into the darkness he keeps leashed just below the surface. It burns there like blue fire and I know it would take the devil himself to stop him from making good on his promise.
“We should go,” he adds. “Now, before they can fucking multiply.”
“What if we get split up?”
“We won’t.”
“We might.”
He lets out a sound that’s half groan and half growl. “You remember where the metro is on Rue des Abbesses? It’s two blocks over, near église Saint-Jean. We meet there.”
I nod.
Aurora double-checks the safety on the gun she’s hiding inside my coat.
“Don’t pull that unless you have to,” I warn her, and she gives me a funny look that I don’t get until she scoffs and says her next words.
“So I shouldn’t start waving it around as soon as we get outside? I really thought that was a great idea.”
Sev’s lips part in surprise, but it’s me who laughs as I take her arm and guide her to turn around, leaning in close to whisper in her ear.
“Such a smart-ass,” I croon and feel her shiver against me.
When she tilts her head back to reply, I can’t help but notice the tiny amount of space between our lips and wish I could erase it from existence. “Made you laugh, didn’t I?”
I smirk, but the reality of the situation sinks back in as we excuse ourselves past a busy table, making for the red curtains. A waiter comes to ask if we need anything, blocking our path, and I shake my head.
“No parle Francais,” I say in horrible French that hurts me to spit out.
“You do so,” Aurora whispers in a mock accusatory tone as we hurry to the exit. “And it’s fucking hot .”
My cock twitches in my pants and I wish she would say more, but I can’t afford to be distracted right now. Not with her safety in our hands and our enemy outside. “Stay close to us, okay?”
She reaches back to squeeze my arm in reply, and I decide that if anyone attacks this girl outside, I will have absolutely no problem putting a bullet between their eyes.