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“D-Dane?” Zara Fitzgerald’s voice sounded noworse for all the screaming, but her delicate face was pale underwhat he now recognized as five pounds of makeup. It took that muchto fool anyone with working eyes into thinking she was old enoughto be at this goddamn party. “What are you doing here?”
Busting a skull for your dad.His jawclenched. “I should be the one asking that,” he replied, releasingKirke’s throat.
Her head lifted, a glimmer of defiancesurfacing behind her shock. “I asked first.”
One more second of eye contact with Zarawould lead to a hell of a lot more violence, among other things. Heforced his attention back to his mark. “I took you to be a lot ofthings, but never this stupid.” He meant it as much for Zara asKirke.
Kirke coughed and wheezed in futile protest.His tears mingled with the blood gushing from the new lacerationover his eyebrow. “I-I’ll … I told him … I told him I’d have themoney. Next week. I swear.”
“We’re past that. Sailed right by the secondyou touchedher.”
“P-please … I know. I know how this looks,but—” Another blow shut Kirke up. A fourth landed before Dane couldstop himself. He had a pretty good idea of what Kirke had intendedto do with her, and it wasn’t sex. There was one fast way to makemoney at this venue: procuring flesh for certain clientele whofrequented these charnel pits.
And a pretty Fitzgerald princess wouldclear all his debts and then some.
Motherfucking son of a bitch. Just cut histhroat.
But I can’t. Not withherwatching.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Danedemanded, his gaze leveling on Zara again. Now she knew hisidentity, she wasn’t screaming or running for cover or having anyof the usual reactions. That was nice. But then, he usually didn’twork in front of his childhood friends, let alone the boss’skids.
“Having fun?” Zara crossed her arms, and hercleavage threatened to escape her scrap of a top.
“With this bastard?” He refrained fromspitting on Kirke’s barely conscious, bloody face.
“Pre-graduation parties are a thing if youremember.”
Barely.“You’re still a junior,Zara.” Not to mention the twins wouldn’t be seventeen for amonth.
“And?” She shrugged that fact off, her eyescutting toward Kirke.
“You aren’t graduating.” Dane suddenlywondered if he was actually nineteen because, facing down Zara’ssullen frown, he felt forty-seven. “And this isn’t a high schoolparty. Which you fucking know.”
“We thought about inviting you to come withus.” Her full lips thinned in a pretty pout that could launch aviral video. And had, if he remembered her freshman year right.“But I guess work’s keeping you super busy these days.”
“You know how it goes.” He rested the gunbarrel on Kirke’s motionless cheek. “Shit hours, but I like myboss.”
“Liar.”
He sighed. “Is your sister in there,too?”
“Which one?”
“You know damn well.”
“It’s a little hard to remember specificswhen you’re pointing a gun at the dude I was intendingto—”
“Are you trying to convince me to shoothim?” Dane’s finger caressed the trigger. Kirke had no businesstouching any teenager, let alone Zara.
“Of course not! It’s messy and loud, andit’s not even two! The party’s set to go at least ‘til five. If thefloor holds.”
Dane fought the urge to roll his eyes andlost. “Now you’re ruiningmyfun.” He brought the pistoldown against Kirke’s jaw. Hard. A satisfying crunch told him he’dcracked a couple of teeth.
“Was that necessary?”
“Unless you want me to gut him in front ofyou, yes.” Satisfied the dumbass would stay comatose, Dane slid hisBeretta back in the holster and approached Zara. “Sorry to rain onyour parade, princess. But at least now you’ll see the end of yourparty.”
“Yeah, cause I’m looking at it.” Zara’smouth turned in a familiar, sullen line, and she pushed some of hertumbled, brunette hair over her shoulder. She had no idea she’dalmost woken up in a black-market brothel.
