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Cade Barton looked like an asshole.Sameas all the others. Zara and her prize fucking pigs. She’d spentfour years falling into the arms of every trashy rich kid with aworking dick and just enough brains to amuse her. The man sittingbeside her, with an expensively brightened smile, fake tan, andflashy jewelry proved the trend. His designer suit fit a little tooloose, and nobody with that many fake-ass rings deserved to betaken seriously. The bastard hadn’t even taken a second sip of hisoverpriced brandy after the first one set off a coughing fit.Another weak motherfucker.
Zara could do better. Deserved better.Neededbetter.If only he could tell her so—but shewouldn’t listen. He’d shut that door himself the night he betrayedher confidence. Didn’t matter that he’d done the right thing. Zaradidn’t see it that way. Never would.
Dane allowed himself to look at her—fifteenseconds max, then away. It felt like rationing water in the desert.She sat beside the asshole wearing a barely there dress as black asDane’s dreams and six-inch heels that made her shapely legs lookgood enough to eat. She leaned over the bar, her cheek resting onone delicate hand while slowly stirring her drink with a red straw.She’d eaten the cherry from it. He hadn’t watched. He’d seen thetrick once before and nearly broke her date’s arm right after. Thatwas a bad night.He didn’t intend to let this be anotherone.
At least today, all she could do wasdistract him with cleavage. He was half-sure she knew precisely howfar to angle her torso so he saw down the gap from yards away. Shehit that angle as often as possible to torture him—as if she wasn’tdoing that in a hundred other ways.It could be worse,hereminded himself. Two summers ago, she’d worn a dress that showedher actual nipples every time she bent forward. He’d let it catchin the car door before getting to the second club, so she had tosend for an emergency wardrobe change.
He never stopped cursing the night she’ddrunkenly confided her bondage kinks to a friend right where hecould overhear, because he spent terrible weeks privately dreamingof turning her over his knee until she begged forgiveness. Thefantasies varied from there. Sometimes, he forgave her and lickedher pussy until she forgave him for being rough, and sometimes hekept punishing her until she broke. Though the image of a shiveringZara needing her Dom’s reassurance was enough to make his cockharden in the middle of a job.Fuck.Looked toolong.
He focused instead on her sister. It was arelief. Turning disdain into indifference where Gia was concernedwasn’t easy, but after four years and three months on watch, he’dmanaged. Granted, he’d not been assigned to her much these days—hehad other shit to do. But whenever Zara came home on breaks fromcollege to join her evil twin’s nonstop partying, Dane and Sawyeralways got tapped for shifts. The boss knew anyone else might getconfused about who was who. Or lose track of one.
As often as Dane wished he could let himselflose Gia off the side of a cliff, it never happened. Not even lastsummer when she punched him with a diamond ring. He still had asmall scar under his left eye. He’d turned around and sliced offhalf her brand-new extensions. Sawyer stopped him before he coulddo the other side. Gia’d been fucking ecstatic, sure Dane was aboutto get fired. But Adam had looked at them both and laughed it off.Then doubled Dane’s Gia-duty hours for two hellish months.Apparently, she’d cost Adam four private guards before thatepisode.
Sometimes being good at what you do is afucking curse.
Gia slid into a booth, draping herselfaround another rich boy with more hair than sense. Aside from theamount of hair, he was nearly identical to Zara’s milquetoastplaymate—made in the same fucking Ivy League factory—but Danedidn’t remember that one’s name.
Doesn’t matter. There’ll be a new dipshitnext week.The thought didn’t cheer him up. The twins hadturned twenty-one in June, but they’d been tearing their waythrough every trust fund frat pledge from Chicago to Miami sincetheir senior year. Dane had watched the story spin out more timesthan he could count: the girls sampled a new flavor of dipshit,dragged them to bar after bar after society party, then discardedthem. Nobody lasted more than a few months with Gia’s claws rakingthem from cock to wallet. Zara’s prey escaped with lower creditcard balances but just as dazed by her indifference as anyone elsewas by Gia’s sadism.
After four years, most of the usualChicago-area playgrounds felt familiar—Adam didn’t care if theyused fake IDs as long as their guards didn’t let things get toostupid—so Dane knew this particular bar damn well. The staffrecognized him and kept their distance. He had his place, standingat the threshold separating the VIP area from the main floor. Eventhe interactions he watched were routine. They arrived, the twinsset up court at a booth, and the dancing began. Zara would invitehim and Sawyer to relax and have a drink. They never accepted, andthe twins never argued.
Zara would’ve argued once. When they’d beenfriends. Before he broke a promise and went to her father with thedamning truths that kept her psychotic older brother locked out ofthe family nest. The resulting rift was good, though. It keptthings clearer. Not to mention that one drop of booze around Zarawas too goddamn much. If he drank, he’d forget to look away. He’dlearned the hard way what looking too long at Zara Fitzgeraldcaused. She was a walking, talking, addictive substance. The purestcocaine didn’t have shit on her smile.The real one. The onehe hadn’t gotten to see in four years.
Leaning back against the doorframe, Danereached into his pocket, playing with his St. Michael coin,flipping it in circles until his cell vibrated. Across the room,Sawyer pushed open his jacket and produced his phone too.Another alert?They’d gotten too damn many the last fewdays. The whole Outfit was on edge thanks to a string of low-levelpushes from the Bratva, plus one of the major cartels having aminor civil war among themselves. Nobody liked it when cartelfuckheads got weird. They had no sense of proportion. In Chicago,your mafia-backed violence came from guns and suspicious fires, asthe Godfathers intended. Not psychos cutting an entire family’sguts open to make a point.
Though I can think of one or two familiesthat might be useful for. Fuck.Dane’s phone vibrated. Again.He pulled it out of his pocket far enough to see the screen.Dad? But he’s on the clock? Shit, if I have to take the twins inearly…Putting the phone to his ear, he scanned the club.Sawyer was making his way closer, dodging twerking, gyratingdancers.
“What’s up?” It had to be bad. Michael Ryannever stopped mid-job to call his son.
“This is Connor.”And Dad doesn’t handhis phone off to anyone. Ever.
“Where is he? How bad?” he asked as Sawyerdrew closer. His partner’s slumped shoulders were message enough.He didn’t need Connor’s following words.
“Ambulance crew picked him up.”
“Where to?”
“UChicago. Dane … it doesn’t look good.”
His free hand balled into a fist. His rightleg twitched with the need to bolt out the door. “Whathappened?”
Connor exhaled past the speaker, loud as anywoofer-rattling note from the club’s sound system. “Nothing I cansay here. Hell of a case of lead poisoning.”
“You fucking better—”
“Hey, hey! Not here, bro.” Sawyer reachedfor the phone, prying it away from Dane. “Sending backup?” he askedinto the black plastic. He paused. “Nah, fuck that. I’ll take himmyself if I have to.” He hung up. Gia’s booth was only three stepsaway, and Sawyer crossed the distance in seconds. “Sorry,sweetheart. We’re leaving.” He spoke loud enough for Gia and herchew toy to hear over the music.
Dane took a deep breath, but the air didn’thelp. The club’s music faded out. He jerked his gaze away fromZara’s wide eyes and parted lips. “I’m fine. It’s fine. We don’thave to—”
“Yes. We do.” Sawyer snapped his fingers.“Come on. Gia! Get up. Chop, chop.”
“Fuck off, Sawyer. You’re in charge ofsecurity, not schedule.” Gia’s eyes held less warmth than the NorthPole. She stayed curled in the booth with her toy—his name isDex, right? Or was that the last one?—who raised one brow anddraped his arm more securely around Gia’s shoulders. Gia didn’tlean into him, but she sure as hell wasn’t getting up.
“And Security says tonight is over. Moveit.” Sawyer stalked closer.
“Touch me, and I’ll scream the roof downjust to make sure Daddy fires you.”
Sawyer’s gray eyes blazed, and he leaneddown in Gia’s picture-perfect face. “It’s Dane’s dad. Now is notthe time for your bullshit, Gianna.”
