Chapter 8
Grace
Club Fourteen was a clusterfuck of vulgar scenes. From naked women scattered around in suggestive positions to cocaine stuck to nearly every man’s nose in the establishment, there wasn’t a single place you could look without feeling the need to wash your eyes out.
Flashbacks to my first visit here attempted to filter past my defenses, but I shoved them aside. I didn’t have time to get distracted tonight.
The scent of tequila had filled my nose the second I stepped inside, mixed with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume.
The strippers were beautiful, each playing their role perfectly, but if I had one piece of advice?
Stop buying fragrances from wherever the fuck they were getting them.
I crossed to the bar, the dim red and purple lights strobing all around me as eyes tracked my movements.
Bodyguards were spread throughout the large room, most sticking to the perimeter.
I wasn’t a threat here, but I looked like one to them.
It wasn’t my all-black outfit, from the oversized leather jacket to the skirt that barely covered my ass, that made them wary.
It was the knife sheath tucked into the waistband of my high-waisted fishnet tights.
The jacket was layered over a bra, leaving my stomach exposed and the weapon a blaring target.
I shouldn’t have been surprised they’d even let me in here with the thing. It was normal for men to look at me and think I wasn’t a danger.
Men were stupid.
I’d kill every last one of them without a second thought.
“Club soda,” I told the bartender as I slid onto a stool. The person I came for would come to me when they felt it was necessary, which meant I had a lot of waiting to do.
It took the bartender less than a minute to slide the glass in front of me. I set down a ten, keeping my back to the crowd as I took small sips.
Thirty minutes later, a smooth, deep voice asked, “No alcohol tonight, Gracie?”
The red leather seat of the barstool beside mine disappeared as large thighs sat atop it. He definitely didn’t sound as scary as he looked, with his short, dark hair and wide shoulders that seemed about ready to tear through the material of his black T-shirt.
“It’s Grace,” I corrected. “And no. I’m here on business.”
I turned my head, staring at the side of his face for a few seconds.
He didn’t seem to care to look my way, instead facing the shelves of alcohol straight ahead.
He might be a stranger to me, but he was well aware of who I was.
The man I worked for had a whole network of people who worked for him.
My faith in Henley finding the man at the top was slim, but if it kept me alive a little longer, I’d give him whatever hope he needed.
“You know that’s not how this works,” he said, sounding bored. I didn’t like the undertone of faux sweetness in his voice. It held a threat I wasn’t in the mood for.
I fought to keep my features composed. “I don’t care.”
The slight raise to his pierced brow told me he wasn’t surprised by my response.
A water appeared in front of him without him having to ask. He didn’t so much as glance at it, like this was a normal occurrence. “Do tell, then. What business are you here on?”
“I want to know who wants my latest target dead.”
His cooled features couldn’t hold against my request as his nostrils flared a bit. “That’s none of your concern.”
I took a sip of my drink to give myself time to think of a response. He was right, which made this more difficult. But I’d come prepared—sort of. “I’ve done everything your boss has asked.”
He shifted a little closer, his purpose to intimidate me. “You think that gives you the right to be nosy?”
My finger twirled around the lip of my glass. “It means I’m obedient.”
He stood off the stool, chest bumping my elbow. “So stay a good little pet and do as you’re told.”
I gritted my teeth as he crooked a finger under my chin and tilted my head up. I tried to keep my eyes downcast, but it was as if he silently demanded I look at him. I couldn’t fight it any longer, and my gaze lifted.
“Because if you don’t, you’re dead, Gracie.”
He applied a bit of pressure under my chin, flicking it up an inch higher before he released me. Then he disappeared back into the club.
I stayed put, giving my heart a moment to return to its normal pace.
I was well-the-fuck-aware what was in my contract for this job; if I didn’t complete a task, I’d take the fall. Naturally, one of the cons of this job was death. And yet, being told that to my face when I didn’t have the upper hand made my skin crawl.
Henley wasn’t the only person I had to fear.
What did people say?
The enemy of my enemy is my friend?
It seemed I had some schmoozing to do.
My Doc Martin tapped restlessly on the hardwood floor as I stared at the empty seat across from me.
To be fair, Henley had likely been busy when I’d texted him to meet me at this rundown country diner, but due to my mood, I was considering him an ass for making me wait.
The restaurant was about an hour outside of Whiskey Ridge, enough distance away that I didn’t think anyone would catch us meeting in public.
I’d been careful so far, watching my surroundings like a fucking hawk. The pool hall had been a risk, but the ranch was clear for the most part, with how isolated it was. Out here, though? So long as no one followed me or him, we’d be fine.
Hopefully.
“Are you sure you don’t want to order?” the waiter, Ben, asked, refilling my water for a third time.
“I’m sure.” The boy didn’t deserve my coldness, but I was on edge and slightly annoyed. I’d tip him large and hope that made up for it.
Ben hesitated, pity lacing his features, before he made the smart decision and turned away without a word.
While I was mad at Henley for taking his sweet ass time, it at least gave me a minute to think. What was I going to tell him? That I’d gone behind his back and headed to Club Fourteen to try to speed things along, and ended up in a worse position than I was in before?
That’d only show him I was an idiot. Why did I care what he thought? I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. I didn’t need his approval first.
“At least you picked a table in the back so I wouldn’t be sniped through the window,” a familiar, grating voice said as the vacant chair across from me scraped noisily along the ground.
My eyes closed, and I hoped I had an ounce of patience buried somewhere deep inside me. I had a feeling this would be a long conversation.
Now that I thought about it, I should have eaten before he arrived so I’d be free to leave at any point, sans empty stomach.
Henley planted his ass—one I definitely hadn’t stolen a glance at a time or two before—in the chair, sitting back and crossing his arms.
At least one of us was comfortable. I felt stiff as a fucking board.
“What’s the emergency?” he asked, bored.
I rolled my eyes, attempting to mimic his position. Could he see how worked up I was? “We need to try harder.”
He cocked a brow, like my urge to get this over with was unexpected. “Did something change?”
“No. I just have this feeling that if we keep taking our sweet time, they’re going to catch on.” Real convincing, Grace.
He studied me, eyes narrowing slightly. “Care to explain, or do I need to prepare for a round of twenty questions?”
My lips rolled together, patience dwindling at a dangerously fast pace. Why were men always so skeptical at the worst fucking times?
“It’s your life on the line if they get curious as to why you’re not dead yet,” I stated, deciding to keep the severity of the whole my life is in danger, too bit to myself.
He didn’t so much as flinch, still inspecting me like he knew there was more.
“Your date’s here!” Ben said as he appeared again, a little too chipper. Read the room, kid. “Ready to order now?”
“Two cheeseburgers,” Henley stated, not bothering to look at him.
I glared at Henley. “What if I don’t want a cheeseburger?”
“We won’t make it through dinner, so it doesn’t matter what you want.”
He meant it as a threat—maybe?—but Ben clearly took it extremely sexually, if his flaming cheeks were anything to go by.
“Two cheeseburgers, coming right up,” Ben said, hurrying away to likely gossip with his coworkers about the sexually frustrated couple in the corner.
He had a lot to learn about chemistry.
“I have to use the restroom.” I stood, not bothering to wait for Henley to object. Out of the corner of my eye—because I refused to look at him as I passed—I noticed his fists clench and a muscle in his jaw feather.
He could be pissed all he wanted; I didn’t owe him a fucking thing. We had a deal, and if anything, he should take my urgency as a blessing. He wanted me dead, didn’t he? That would only get him closer to his goal much faster than originally anticipated.
I shoved through the bathroom door, relieving myself—because I really did need to pee after all that water—then staring at myself in the mirror.
While Henley was well aware of the timeline in which we needed to get this done, he didn’t seem to care.
I was sure he was at home all day, playing cowboy with his buddies.
He probably thought this was all a joke, not giving a shit that whatever way we played this, I had the most to lose. No matter the route, I ended up dead.
I ran my hands under the faucet, splashing cold water on my neck. I hadn’t realized my skin was so hot until now.
With my palms braced against the sink, I hung my head, counting my breaths. I’d get through this. There was no other option.
The door to the bathroom opened, but I didn’t move.
I needed to ground myself before I had a full-blown panic attack in the middle of this restaurant.
I had to look like I had my shit together in front of Henley.
Otherwise, he’d think I was weak and kill me sooner, taking the issue into his own hands.
He had friends who would back him—he didn’t need me.
I had…no one.