Extort Me (Sinful Contracts #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Sage

The atmosphere of the club is rich. In colour, scent, and music. The seductive rhythm makes my body hum and the vocals carry a delicious baritone that spirals down my spine. Bitter Cross feels like a trap. But I’m here to set my own.

It took me longer than I wanted to find this place. Pure chance showed me what I needed most three weeks ago. I don’t really believe in the woo woo side of life, but I couldn’t deny the cookie crumbs leading to a direct solution.

I’m not dressed appropriately for a club like this, which is to say, not dressed inappropriately.

I might be wearing a skintight, strapless dress, but it is too long compared to the other women in the building.

The fabric has only enough give that I’m able to move, bend, walk, but it shows every dip and curve.

Others in the club show skin as they sway their bodies.

People don’t push or crowd the bar. I’m not about to assume anyone here is polite or safe, but the atmosphere does something to a person.

I stand a little taller despite my nerves.

Warmth floods my face and I bravely meet gazes with several people hovering nearby.

I’m out of my element, but I need to look like I come to places like this all the time.

Acclimating myself to the environment before approaching the man was smart—but I hadn’t done that.

I don’t have time for that. Nova doesn’t have time for that. The three weeks to find him were too long.

I sit on the bar stool, angling my body in a way to elongate my neck and show off my cleavage.

When the bartender approaches, I order a drink.

“Merlot, please.” I set a bill on the glossy wood bar top.

The bartender pours the dark, red liquid into a wide wine glass and pushes my money back to me with a wink.

“First one is on me, darling.” His green eyes stand out against his short, dark hair and the scruff lining his jaw. He’s handsome, yet the grin on his lips doesn’t reach the rest of his face. Practiced flirtation.

“Thank you.”

His flirting stops there as he turns his charming smile onto the next customer.

I don’t intend to imbibe in more than one drink. I need to find the assassin. This club belongs to him, I’m sure of it. I used my connections as a real estate agent to my advantage, and I’m crossing my fingers that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

Turning on the stool, I peer out at the crowd.

I sip my wine and tilt my head so it seems I’m watching the people dancing, but I take in as much as I can with brief glances at every dark corner.

Is there an office, a reserved table, or is he even here at all?

I’m staying until I see him or this place closes.

The owner designed the club with a 1920s feel to it with the way the circular tables line the bar, walls, a small dance floor, and a low stage. The lights are dim, but cherry wood furniture shines and the chocolate leather is intact. As I thought when I walked in—rich.

There are two levels. A circular balcony surrounds the main floor. Two more bars are on the upper level with the same style seating, and each one showcases a wall of expensive liquor options. And that’s where I see him.

I’ve become familiar with his face—as much as I could with the distant, grainy pictures on my phone from three weeks ago.

But one image reveals his features—angular and rigid.

Dark brown hair over blue eyes—I imagine they’re blue.

They’re too bright in the dark image. He’s striking enough to make my breath hitch to look at him, but he’s an assassin.

I need to tread carefully. My plan is either going to work or I won’t live until morning to find out. But for Nova, I’ll try.

He’s leaning over the railing with another man who holds himself the same way. It’s something about the lack of tension that’s difficult to explain. Sharp eyes, bored features, and confidence in the way they seem to rule everything beneath them.

I’d bet money that the other man with him is also an assassin. But I don’t have enough money to hire one of them, let alone bet on them. That’s why I’m here with the pictures. I need this to work.

Pushing off the stool, I measure my steps with the beat of the music, letting the hum fill me with the confidence of everyone else here. I only have so much of my own to spare, and I used all of it to walk through the door.

This is worth it for Nova. I’ve repeated that constant reminder to myself for three weeks.

The stairs curve above the lineup for the washrooms. I cross my feet with each step to sway my hips as I climb. I’m not attempting to draw the attention of everyone, but I want to be noticeable when I reach the top.

Approaching two assassins seems reckless. But I promised myself I’d use the first opportunity that presented itself.

I put myself on the other side of my target and lean on the railing with my drink resting in the fingers of both hands.

Easy. Breathe. Are my shoulders as relaxed as theirs? I hope so. The heat from their gazes warms my skin, starting from the top of my head and hitting the swells of my breasts over the top of my dress.

“You have a very seductive club.” It’s an honest statement and one with enough power to capture his attention.

He turns to face me, leaning only a single elbow on the railing. “Thank you.” He’s abandoned his friend beside him and put all of his attention on me. That’s what I need, but holy fuck, it’s more terrifying than I thought it would be. I can do this.

I match his posture, tilting my head to stare up at him. Those eyes are the most striking deep blue I’ve ever seen.

“But how do you know it’s mine?”

“You’re standing up here like a king ruling over his castle.

” I smirk and take a sip of my wine, letting my tongue swipe over my lips a little longer than needed.

My lipstick will stay in place until I remove it myself when I get home.

If I get home. It isn’t hard to see that the man in front of me is unforgiving. He won’t take being blackmailed well.

“Observant little thing. Do you have a name?”

“I do.” When I don’t give it to him, his lips twitch.

“Call me tomorrow.” His companion behind him pushes off the railing, sending me an annoyed expression before walking away. The assassin in front of me doesn’t respond at all. His attention is still on me, making each passing second unnerving.

He inches closer. “You came up here for something, pet. What can I do for you?”

“Maybe you looked like the only person capable of a decent conversation.” I lift my glass to my lips again. It’s the only distraction I possess and gives me something to do with my hands. The action keeps my chin high and ensures I continue to show false confidence.

“That isn’t true.”

“Okay. The only one with something interesting to say.”

“Conversation? What kind of conversation do you want, pet?” He lifts his hand, swiping his thumb at the corner of my mouth. I either left a drop of red there, or he’s imagining the wine as an excuse to touch me.

My instincts dance all over the place. I know what he is, what he’s capable of. My legs tense to run, to abandon my plan and find another way, but something about him is magnetic.

“We can sit down over there and enjoy a drink.” He points to a table behind me. “We can dance. Or I can take you somewhere private to continue,” he pauses, “our conversation.”

I finish my wine in two gulps and hold my empty glass out to him. “Another drink sounds perfect.”

“Names first, pet.”

“Sage.” I’m not quick enough or clever enough to come up with an alias. And I don’t think it matters. This man could sniff out the truth faster than the three weeks it took me to find him.

“Barrett.” He straightens from the railing and sets his hand on my hip, turning me around. Leading me to an empty table near the wall, Barrett nods to a passing server. The black halter dress worn by all the female staff dips low in the back and clings to her legs mid-thigh.

Barrett’s hand on my hip directs me to my seat.

As I settle, he leans down to speak in her ear, then takes the seat next to me.

I’m thankful I’m not blackmailing him from across the table.

Having him close will make this easier to do in a public setting.

I’d expected to do this in private, but why the hell wouldn’t I speak with him in public?

Of course, he can still kill me, but I’ve bought myself some time. I might walk out of here.

“Is the need for conversation what brought you to my club, Sage?” He tilts his head down, regarding me with hooded eyes.

“It is.”

“You spent not even five minutes here and passed by every other man eating you with their eyes to come all the way up here just to have that conversation with me?”

Damn it. He already knew I wasn’t here to flirt. He has me trapped between his body and the wall.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he adds with a tilt to his lips.

“As I said, you’re the only one that looks like he has something interesting to say.” I return his smirk and lift my shoulder, leaning into him slightly and hoping my flirting skills aren’t too rusty.

“I think it’s you who has something interesting to say.” Now his eyes narrow and I know the flirting is over.

“You look familiar.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say, pet.” A hint of something dark weaves through his tone as he lowers his head even closer.

“I knew that before walking in here.” There’s no point in pretending anymore.

“Two choices. We turn this into a private conversation where we give each other a couple of orgasms and we forget each other. Or, you get to the point.”

The server returns and sets two drinks in front of Barrett. The same red wine I ordered before and a short glass with dark liquor.

I take a drink, a large fortifying one, then let the clink of setting my glass down echo and fade before I meet his gaze. He has his arm over the back of my seat and his other arm on the table. Nothing in his expression is menacing, but I feel the real threat of being under his stare.

“I want to hire you for a job.”

He doesn’t evade, playing ignorant of what type of job I’m referring to. Barrett quirks a brow at me to continue.

“Adam Pierson. It would be terrible for him to have an accident. His wife doesn’t need the stress he causes.”

“That’s a pricey job.” His tone reminds me of someone placating a child over a dream of becoming a firefighter one day.

“Except you’re going to do it for free.” All flirting leaves my voice, leaving behind a throaty vixen I’ve never heard before. This is where I need to be convincing.

“That so, pet?” Amusement infiltrates his placating.

“About three weeks ago, I was leaving 9642 53rd Avenue, across the street from 9645?” I throw out the addresses like a question, looking for recognition.

His features don’t falter.

I pull out my phone and show him the pictures I took. I scroll slowly so Barrett has time to process the images of him and the man he killed entering the empty home, and then the pictures of Barrett leaving. Alone.

“Do the job, and I’ll give you the pictures. There are copies.”

“What’s keeping me from taking you now, killing you, and destroying the pictures myself?”

Not a fucking thing. “I have more than just the pictures, and it’s all cued to send to the police unless I delete them.”

His lips twitch. He doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe myself. It’s a lame excuse and a cliché thing to say. But if it keeps me alive, I don’t care how I sound.

“What else?”

“An audio recording of what happened inside that empty house.” I never crossed the street that night. It’s a bluff.

His eyes narrow to slits and his jaw tenses. I’ve got him. But he might get me, too.

“I’ll give every piece to you as soon as the job is done, as long as no suspicion lands on his wife or his wife’s family.”

“What is she to you?”

“That isn’t something you need to know.” I lift my glass and lean into his arm behind me. I’m in control of this. If I believe it, so will he. What a ridiculous thought, but I need that power of suggestion right now.

“What’s the timeline?” He isn’t giving me the flirtatious side of himself anymore. He’s all business, although to anyone walking by, we look very comfortable in our conversation.

“As soon as possible.” The last time I saw Nova, she couldn’t stand straight while holding an arm around her ribs. “You’ll find him at Marshall Books and Accounting or The Blue Pub.”

“Not his home?”

“Not his home. None of this touches his wife.”

“Seems you’ve left me with no choice, pet.” Barrett empties his glass with a single swallow, then stands. Holding his hand out, he blocks my path until I take it. Slipping my hand in his, I let him pull me from my seat and through the club.

Nerves fire through my system. I’m positive he’s taking me somewhere to end this deal now, but he only takes me through the club and escorts me out the front entrance.

“I’ll be in touch, Sage.” He waits for me to walk away. When I peek over my shoulder, I see him speaking with a bouncer, both sets of eyes watching me.

My keys rattle as I unlock my car and my entire body shakes while driving away. I did it. I can’t believe it worked. But it isn’t over until the asshole is dead.