Chapter 24
The bass vibrated through the club, a low thrumming against my ribs.
Another Friday night, another shift where we were short-staffed, so Elin and I were helping behind the bar.
The air hung thick with the smell of spilled beer and cheap perfume.
Emptying the dishwasher, I polished a glass, a rhythmic motion in the midst of the chaotic energy around us.
Elin, in an impossibly short black dress, was expertly navigating the throng of customers.
I had to wonder just how much her father had taught her and where she had learned the small tricks of the trade.
“Another round of Long Islands,” a member requested in front of Elin. She moved with practiced grace, her body swaying slightly as she reached for bottles.
It had been like this for hours. More than once, her movements had brought her close enough for me to catch the scent of her tangerine-vanilla perfume.
Each touch, the curve of her back, the glimpse of her skin, all entirely accidental of course, sent a jolt through me.
It was like a slow, agonizingly deliberate dance.
“Gavriel, honey, you’re spacing out again.
” A woman’s voice cut through my thoughts.
It was Mrs. Petrov, a loyal member with her husband, who favored excessively strong martinis and being bent over a spanking bench while having multiple holes filled with a crowd watching.
“Sorry, Mrs. Petrov,” I said, snapping back to attention.
"One martini, extra dry, coming right up. "
I made the drink, my hands steadier than I felt.
This was getting ridiculous. Elin was driving me crazy tonight.
I needed her. Needed to pull her into the back room, get on my knees, have her shove my face into her delicious pussy and ride me as I licked and sucked her to the point where there was no more control.
I’d make her scream my name, then fuck her into oblivion.
It wasn’t going to happen, but fuck if that vision didn’t keep going through my mind.
"Behind you," Elin murmured as she brushed past, her hip almost grazing my arm. This time, a stray curl of her hair tickled my cheek. Another completely accidental brush, I was sure.
“Another one?” she asked a young man, her smile practiced and dazzling.
“Yes, please. And make it a double,” the man replied, grinning at her.
Fire-hot possessiveness boiled up within me, and I handed Mrs. Petrov her drink but gripped the bar towel so tight, I thought about tearing it apart.
Elin’s patron was leaning forward and talking to her, but I couldn’t hear anything over the thundering in my ears.
I took two steps toward them when the sound of glass shattering broke through.
“Sorry, Ms. Elin.”
She smiled at the younger man slowly picking up the glass pieces of his beer glass. “It’s okay. I’ll clean it up.” Then she turned toward the man giving her entirely too much attention and said, "That's sweet, but I’m involved with someone.”
“Does he satisfy you?”
A bright smile crossed her face. “Every damn day. Now, excuse me. I have to clean up a mess.”
She turned toward me and rested her hand on my forearm. “Easy, Pretty Boy.”
Unable to stop myself, I bent down and kissed her softly. “Yes, Goddess.” She strode off, and I met the man’s gaze. He nodded and lifted his drink in salute.
Later, after we closed, she leaned against the bar, idly polishing a glass, her movements slow and deliberate.
“You know,” Elin said, finally looking at me, a playful glint in her eyes. “I could send you pictures if it would be beneficial."
“What?” I echoed, feeling my cheeks flush.
“Pictures,” she said, a smirk playing on her lips. “Your eyes have hardly left me all night. Not to mention the fact you practically pissed a circle around me when that one guy hit on me. Feeling a bit protective?” Her gaze lingered for a beat longer than necessary.
"So, you're admitting to it?" I replied, attempting a casual tone that belied the rapid thumping of my heart.
She laughed, a light, silvery sound. “Admitting to what?”
"To the . . . performance you gave tonight."
“Performance?” she repeated, her voice low. “I wasn’t on stage.”
Stepping up into her space, I muttered, “You were. Even if only I knew what you were doing, there were a lot of men’s eyes on you tonight.”
Lifting an eyebrow, she asked, “Is my pretty boy getting possessive over his Goddess?”
I clenched my jaw because she didn’t know the half of it. That night in her office, where we’d slept on the couch together, had just been the start of the realization of how deep she had her claws in me.
The Owl’s Talon hooked by a wolf.
The thought had just run through my mind when Harley walked up and grabbed a bottle of one of the local beers, popped the top off, and chugged half of it. I glanced over at Elin, and we both had questioning looks on our faces.
“Start talking, Harley.”
“Just spoke with Rojas. He gave me some information about who has been sniffing around.”
Elin’s hand touched my elbow as she jerked her head toward the door. “Go. It’s already after last call. Brandon and I can finish up.”
Turning to face her fully, I whispered, “Thank you, Goddess.”
A small smirk lifted the corner of her mouth before I leaned down and kissed her forehead. When I faced Harley again, his eyes were wider than usual as he looked between us.
“Not a word. Let’s go.” I strode past him, and when I didn’t hear him right behind me, I turned to tell him to get moving, but Elin was leaning on the bar, giving him a look that dared him to ask questions. He shook his head and followed me.
Sitting in the little office at the back of the warehouse, I waited for Rojas to continue. “As I said, we were able to get all but one crate of the shrooms. All witnesses were eradicated.”
He shifted in his chair, his face etched with worry as he leaned forward, folding his hands together on top of the desk. “The feds are poking around more and more, Gavriel.”
“I know that. What I don’t know is who it is. Do you have a name?”
“Hillabrand. Barry Hillabrand.” I waited for him to elaborate, and a long, heavy pause hung between us that was only broken when Harley cleared his throat. “He apparently dated your partner. Joel’s daughter, Elin Perkins.”
Again, we waited. When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Are you implying something?”
“No, just revealing the connection. While he’s been digging and in the middle of this, we haven’t found any recent contact between him, Ms. Perkins, or anyone else we work with.
The only contact of his that we haven’t been able to pinpoint is a burner number he gets texts from.
There has only been one phone call, and that was a while ago.
” He took a deep breath. “Otherwise, calls and text messages from that number stopped. Everything else is accounted for. It’s like he’s working blind now. ”
I ran a hand through my hair, the tension building in my temples. Elin . . . A vision of her flashed—a vibrant, reckless woman, far too intelligent for her own good. My Goddess. I shifted in my seat. The thought of her being involved was like a cold fist around my heart. Could she have betrayed me?
"What about the shipment from Marseilles?" I asked, my voice flat, trying to mask the tremor.
Rojas shook his head. “Clean. No sign of a leak. It's unsettling, Gavriel. Hillabrand is thorough. This is . . . unusual."
Before I could respond, my phone went off with my father’s ringtone. Without taking my eyes off Rojas, I answered, bracing myself.
"Gavriel! You incompetent son of a bitch! Where the hell is the shipment that was supposed to arrive from Colombia? Juarez is here demanding answers." His voice boomed through the phone, a raw, furious roar that made Rojas flinch.
"Father, I—" I started, but he cut me off.
“It's gone! Vanished! The whole thing! And you're the one responsible for it! What the hell were you thinking?!" His words were a torrent of venomous accusations. I didn’t know anything about a shipment from Colombia.
“Fath—” The line went dead, and I knew he had hung up.
The silence in the room was suddenly deafening.
My heart hammered against my ribs. My father's blind rage was frightening, but it was the missing shipment that truly terrified me. It was a perfect storm. The FBI sniffing around, my father’s irrational fury, the unsettling possibility of Elin’s involvement.
It all felt connected, tangled together in a web of suspicion I couldn't unravel.
Harley cleared his throat next to me. "We need to find this shipment, Gavriel. And we need to find out what Hillabrand knows." I wasn’t surprised that he had heard my father screaming. Harley’s eyes, usually sharp and calculating, held a flicker of uncertainty.
A shipment no one knew about other than my father and Juarez?
This was beyond the usual games. This felt . . . personal.
The uneasy feeling in my gut deepened. My father's wrath was a problem, but the FBI breathing down our necks, that was something far more dangerous. There was a missing piece to the puzzle in a dangerous game that could very well cost me everything.