28. Lynx
LYNX
Dear Diary,
I should’ve stayed by the pool and kept my mouth—and my fly—shut.
I’d never been to a party anything like the one taking place in the Guerra mansion. I’d basically gone from frat parties to prison. Where frankly, the only sort of parties taking place weren’t ones I was interested in joining.
The Slayers liked a good get-together, both of the PG variety where there were kids and family members everywhere, but also of the adult-only kind.
When I’d first moved in, I’d been surprised at the way a Friday night could turn from sitting around drinking beers and talking shit, to a makeshift sex club, with none of them caring if the others watched them fuck.
I’d seen everything from Queenie grinding on Aloha’s lap, to Hawk bending Kara over the pool table, to our prez, War, with one hand between his woman’s legs, pleasuring her pussy while he got a blow job from Scythe, one of his other partners.
All right there in the main room of the clubhouse.
To date, I had not partaken in any of it.
In fact, I’d found myself walking out and hiding in my bedroom or going for a ride when it looked like things at the clubhouse were heading in that direction.
Not because I was a prude. Fuck, the exact opposite. Because lately, all it made me do was think about having Nyah there.
Or Luca.
Or, fuck me, both of them.
And didn’t that make me the biggest chump of all.
At least nobody was fucking at the Guerras’ party. At least not yet. It was a lot of older men, with women who were way too young for them. The whole thing made my skin crawl.
Carlos and his friends definitely had a type. And I guessed their money bought them whatever they wanted, including beautiful women, young enough to be their daughters.
I watched from the edge of the party as Nyah trotted around with Carlos, like she was some sort of prize-winning animal he was showing.
With her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, he played the part of the perfect gentleman, while she could barely walk in a tight dress made for sin, and forcing smiles for each of his friends, though few of them looked her in the eye.
She was nothing but a hot body to lust over.
Though, was I any better?
I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her since she’d walked downstairs wearing a deep-red dress that clung to her hips and tits, all of it doing my dick no favors when I was supposed to be talking her up to Luca.
She hadn’t asked me to, but it was a mission I’d given myself.
Because the danger was real, and the more I thought about it, the more I felt fucking sick.
I’d talked to War. Confided in him that she was here, being forced into a marriage she didn’t want. Asked him what we could do.
Though he hadn’t liked it, his answer had been simple. “We’d be starting a war with the Guerras. And not just them, with Nyah’s family too.”
And I’d suddenly understood that what I’d asked of him was bigger than I’d realized.
War had kids. A woman. A family to protect.
And not only that, he had a responsibility to the club and its members.
Most of them—Hawk, Fang, Reaper—they all had kids and partners of their own now too. War’s job was to protect them.
He might have been sympathetic to Nyah’s plight, but he didn’t know her. And his job as prez, as a partner and father, was to protect his own, no matter what.
He was the sort of father Nyah should have had. And yet she’d gotten lumped with a Mafia king who wanted power and alliance more than his own daughter’s happiness and safety.
He wanted it so much he’d been willing to threaten those she loved to get her to comply.
War would never. And I couldn’t fault him for that.
But it meant that Nyah had no one watching out for her. No one but me. And so now, shoot me in the head, it was apparently my job to get Luca to sleep with her.
I needed a fucking drink.
But of course, since I was working, I couldn’t have one.
“I’ve never seen anyone frown so much at a party.” Luca leaned against the pool house wall beside me, shadows covering us both thanks to the huge tree that grew to one side. “You’re supposed to be having a good time, you know.”
“I’m here to work. Not here to party.”
Luca glanced over at his father and Nyah. “Looks like you’re essentially off the clock tonight. Clearly Daddy Dearest wants his future bride all to himself.”
I pressed my lips together. He wasn’t wrong. I’d done nothing but stand here ever since Nyah had walked downstairs. Carlos had monopolized her every moment, and I was just standing here like part of the furniture.
Furniture that was obsessed with every curve of her body and who had to keep thinking about llamas regurgitating their feed just to stop from getting hard.
She had a fiancé. She had a baby daddy. And she needed to sleep with her future stepson.
She did not need a bodyguard with a crush.
She needed someone to fucking help her before the entire thing blew up in her face and someone got hurt.
I couldn’t be with her twenty-four seven. And my worst nightmare, one I hadn’t even considered until I’d woken up in a cold sweat after dreaming about it, was me turning up here one day, and she was just gone.
I knew the Guerras trafficked women.
And I was so fucking scared that if she put a foot wrong, she’d be the first on the auction block, the baby with her.
The plan was good. We just needed to make it happen.
Luca pulled a flask from the inside pocket of his suit. “Have a drink, Lynx. You seem stressed.”
I took it, because I was. Nyah was safe while she was in the middle of this party, surrounded by people. I was of better use to her by buttering Luca up.
“Nyah looks hot tonight,” I said quietly, passing the flask back to him after taking a gulping swig.
He glanced at me. “Checking out my father’s fiancée is probably not a smart move, you know.”
I snorted on my derision. “Are you saying you didn’t notice?”
Luca’s gaze fixed on the bright red of her dress. “Of course I noticed. I’m not blind.”
“So you agree. She looks good.”
“She looks like signing my name on my own death warrant if I even so much as sniff in her direction.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “You really think your dad would kill you if you slept with her?”
“He’s killed men for a lot less.”
Fuck. This was going to be harder than I thought.
Luca didn’t exactly act like he was scared of his father, but it was clear there was a healthy level of respect there. And not in the good way. It was in the way you respected a bear or a lion.
Nice to peek at from behind the safety of zoo bars.
Not so much if you found yourself with one in the wild.
And sleeping with your father’s fiancée was definitely akin to putting yourself in danger.
That triggered something inside me. That part of me that protected people I cared about.
It wanted to protect Luca.
I blew out a long breath.
Sometimes I missed prison. It was so much easier than trying to navigate the real world, which was filled with people and their emotions and well-being.
I hadn’t cared about anyone but Reaper on the inside, and that was the only way to be.
One person to watch your back. Assume the rest were your enemies.
But I’d tried that once I’d gotten out, and it had felt wrong.
It had felt a whole lot like loneliness.
Luca pointed at another woman across the sparkling, perfectly cleaned pool. “See that woman over there? In the blue dress?”
I nodded, taking in the bottle blonde, shooting coy glances in our direction every so often. “I think my father is going to arrange our marriage.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “That just how things work in your world?”
He laughed and took another long, gulping swallow of the alcohol, like he needed it even to be present here.
“Yeah, pretty much. Nobody marries for love.” He waved a hand toward all the people standing or dancing around the pool.
“All of this is fake. None of these people even like each other. It’s all just one big game of show and power and alliances and connections. ”
He slurred that last one just a bit, and it made me realize he’d been drinking long before the flask had come out.
“You don’t want to marry her then?”
“I don’t even fucking know her. Other than her name is Marissa. Marissa with the big tits and even bigger hair.”
I hid a smile. “Not a tit or hair man then?”
He shook his head. “Neither. My father is obsessed with tits. The faker the better. Just wait. Nyah will lose that perfect little handful and have massive fake knockers before their first wedding anniversary.”
I screwed up my face. “I can’t see her wanting that.”
“As if it’s about what she wants. It’s always about whatever Carlos wants. The rest of us just go along with it because we have no choice. He finds weaknesses. That’s his specialty. And the minute you have one, boom!” He clapped his hands together. “It’s all over. He’s got you. He wins.”
I considered that, then asked, “What’s your weakness, then? What’s holding you here?”
“My sister,” he admitted, gaze dropping to the sparkling blue water of the pool.
“If I don’t play the game, he tells her piece-of-shit, older-than-the-moon husband where she is.
I can’t have that. I’ll marry Marissa the Mafia Barbie before I let him bring Isabella back here.
” He dragged his gaze away and laughed bitterly.
“So as you can see, I might as well have shackles around my ankles.”
Fuck. This was all getting deeper than I’d expected. The part of me that cared about people, the one I’d had to turn off while I was inside, was now blaring at me like a foghorn.
It wanted to go put my fingers around Carlos’s throat and squeeze until his face turned purple and he clutched at my hands, his eyes begging me for release.
I wouldn’t give it to him. I’d lean in and whisper their names. Nyah’s. Luca’s. I’d make sure he died knowing I’d killed him for them.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’d ended a life. There had been many before him.
There’d be more after, I was sure of it.