14. Lorcan
LORCAN
Elle is safer in the penthouse than she is in this club. She needs to process what she witnessed before I go to her and demand things from her that she isn’t ready to give yet. But she will give them. She will give me everything, and I will accept nothing less.
I flex my right hand against the ice pack and feel the deep ache in my knuckles that tells me I hit Clifton harder than I needed to.
That’s the truth of it. I needed him down fast, and I needed Elle to see what fast looks like when I decide someone has run out of road.
Men who steal from me always seem to believe they are the first clever person to try.
They never are.
I drain the rest of the water and set the glass down.
Fintan is studying me with those blue eyes that don’t miss much and say even less.
“Do you really plan to go to her later?”
“Of course,” I say, not looking at him. “Why? Did you have plans for her?”
He grimaces at me, and I know that was a jerk response. But it doesn’t mean I will apologise for it. I lean forward instead. “She made you hard. She made you come just by touching herself. I know what it means to you.”
“You don’t know shit,” he growls.
“Actually, I do, and we both know it. Fine, you want her tonight, go to her.”
“I don’t want her. Not like that.”
“Not like that? Then how? You want her to beg for you.”
“It would be a start. It would at least show me she wanted me.”
“Fin,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose, exasperated. “You are hopeless. She is there for us.”
“Maybe. It doesn’t mean I have to rush it.”
I stare at him and reflect on that statement. It’s true. Elle isn’t going anywhere. The trouble is, my cock has other ideas, and if I made it wait, more people would end up six feet under. I look toward the back door where Tiernan took her out and force myself to stay seated.
Control is the difference between a man who owns the city and a man who ends up buried under it. I have control. I have built an empire on it. I have watched men plead, bleed, bargain, betray, and die without ever letting impulse lead me anywhere I didn’t choose to go.
Elle Langley makes impulse feel reasonable.
And that is a massive problem.
The ice pack in my hand cracks slightly under my fingers. I release some pressure before I split it open and make a mess of the booth.
“No, you’re right. It doesn’t.”
He sits back, big body tense in the leather. “You want her scared enough to stay, dependent enough not to run, and turned on enough to confuse it all for choice.”
I stare at him, and for once, I don’t have an immediate answer because he is right. He knows me too well. He knows I’ve been dissatisfied with women throwing themselves at me. The money, the success, the cars, and mansions around the world are magnets for the wrong kind of woman.
Elle is not wrong. She is right in every single way that counts. She hates me. She doesn’t want my money or to be driven around in a Bentley, or plied with a million-pound diamond necklace. She wants safety, security and someone who loves her. Whatever happened in her past has damaged her.
“Dig deeper into her, Fin. I want to know who hurt her.”
His gaze shoots up. “How do you know someone did?”
“She is a wounded little rabbit that was bitten by someone bigger and nastier than her. I want that someone to be the rabbit.” I stand up, leaving the ice packs on the table as I make my way to the back of the club.
If Elle won’t tell me, I will find out one way or another.
The corridor behind the club is quieter, but not quiet enough.
I turn into the security office. Jacob looks up from the bank of monitors and rises so quickly his chair rolls back and hits the wall.
“Sit,” I say.
He sits.
Screens show every angle of the club, the corridors, the alley, the private rooms, the bar.
“Snowden?” I ask.
Jacob taps a key and pulls up another camera. “Arrived ten minutes ago through the side exit. Two men with him. Collins and Mercer. Passed Tiernan in the corridor.”
That sends a bolt of possession through me that feels like fucking fire in my veins. “Did he see her?”
Jacob looks uncomfortable, but when I turn my gaze to him, he answers. “Tiernan covered her before Snowden passed them.”
I narrow my eyes. ‘Covered her’ doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination when it comes to my brother. Tiernan has good instincts when his cock isn’t interfering with his judgement.
“You sure?”
Jacob nods. “Snowden didn’t look at them, just carried on walking.”
“Good. They left without an issue?”
Jacob nods again.
I lift my chin in acknowledgement and leave to go to my office, pushing the door open. I’ve barely had time to sit down when there is a rapid knock.
I look up as Alex Snowden stands in the open doorway. “Sorry, I missed it,” he drawls.
“What the fuck do you want, Alex?” I ask, sitting back.
Alex smiles as if we are old friends and not two men who would happily bury each other if the opportunity lined up cleanly enough.
Both are true.
“I heard Clifton had a rough night,” he says, stepping inside without an invitation.
“He should have paid what he owed.”
“Shouldn’t we all?” His eyes move around my office, taking in the desk, the monitors, the locked cabinet, the decanter I don’t touch. “You always did have a flair for making a point, Lor.”
“And that is why there are men and women out there paying three times over the odds for me to win.”
“They know how to back a favourite.”
“As do you. I’ll ask again before I start getting tetchy. What do you want?”
“Information,” Alex says, taking the chair opposite me.
“I didn’t offer you a seat.”
“You rarely offer anything.” He settles anyway, ankle resting on knee. “That’s part of your charm.”
I stare at him without moving. Alex Snowden has always had the kind of face people trust before they learn better.
Clean lines, expensive haircut, calm grey eyes, politician’s smile.
He comes from money old enough to think our money is vulgar, but he still spends plenty of time crawling through the dirt with the rest of us when there’s profit in it.
“What information?” I ask.
He smiles. “Small. Blonde. Blue eyes. You made her come all over her own hand while a clubful of perverts watched.”
“And?” I don’t let my temper show. He knows he hit a nerve. It’s what he does. Arsehole.
“And I want a name.”
“Why?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
“Actually, I do. She belongs to me.”
Alex tilts his head slightly. “Oh?”
“What is your interest in her?” I ask.
“I told you. Information.”
“Wrong answer.”
He laughs under his breath. “You don’t scare me, Lorcan.”
“That’s unfortunate. Fear might keep you alive.”
His eyes cool. “You forget who you’re talking to.”
“No, Alex. I remember exactly. That is why you are still breathing in my office instead of bleeding on the floor with Clifton.”
The threat only amuses him. “She looks familiar. I want to dig a little deeper,” he says.
“She is a stripper. If you attend low-rent clubs, you’ll probably have seen her around.”
He shakes his head. “Not recently.”
That makes me sit forward. “Not recently,” I repeat slowly. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I can’t. Not yet. Give me her name, Lor. I can get it anyway, but I’d rather you gave it to me. It’s faster, cleaner, and you get a heads-up that this girl holds an interest for me.”
“You’re not having her.”
“I didn’t say I wanted her. I said I wanted her name.”
I consider the request. He’s right. He can get her name by tomorrow morning if he digs hard enough. This show of respect is a little backwards, but I can appreciate that it will be easier for him.
Making things easy for Alex Snowden isn’t usually on my list of things to do. But now I’m intrigued way past whatever possessive instinct is driving me with this woman.
“Elle Langley,” I say. “And for that you will share what you know.”
He nods and rises. “Langley,” he murmurs and says it like a revelation.
I don’t like it one bit.
“Thanks, Lor. You saved me a night of frustration.”
“I aim to please,” I grit out.
He leaves, and I sit in a simmering silence, wondering what has got his knickers in a knot about my woman. I lean forward and pick up my phone. I dial the PI I have on retainer.
“Yeah?” he grunts.
“The file you compiled on Elle Langley is woefully inadequate.”
“And?”
“Get the job done properly, or I will make an excuse to find a burial plot with your name on it.”
“How far back?”
“All the way back. Don’t leave a single stone unturned. And next time I have to chase you up and tell you to do your fucking job properly, it will be the last thing you hear. Got it?”
“Got it,” he says, suddenly less bored.
I end the call and set the phone down with more force than needed.
“Who are you really?” I murmur, standing up and moving across the office. Alex’s visit has intrigued me more than it has pissed me off. I want to know, and I want her to tell me.
I make my way out of the club to the car parked down the street.