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Then she moves a bit, and I spot Casey. With Blaze Erikson’s hands all over her. And I see fucking red.
I can feel Elise’s eyes boring into the side of my head, but I don’t meet them. Removing my attention from the sight on the dance floor is impossible.
“Graham, are you really still hovering over that girl?” My jaw locks as I ignore the jealous jab spewing from the redhead’s mouth. I’m too busy watching that slimy, sick bastard’s hands slide all overmygirl. “She’s a grown woman, and not even your actual sister.”
That gets my attention. My eyes lift to her with a smirk. It’s probably the most accurate thing to ever pass those over-filledlips. I’m not sure what she makes of my reaction, but judging by the way her face reddens and her brows kiss her forehead, her assumption is probably close to accurate. It’s enough to send her stomping away.
And I return my attention to the dance floor at the exact moment Casey’s blue gaze finds mine. The urge to go over there, rip her away from Erikson, and carry her out of here burns deep in my belly. The only thing stopping me is knowing it would embarrass her. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t give a damn, but this is Casey.
I bring my glass of whiskey to my lips, focusing on the burn of the dark chocolate and berry notes instead of my jealousy, swallowing mouthfuls as she drops and then slides back up his body.
She’s drunk. Sober Casey would never dance so provocatively. Unless my brother lied to me about how much more reclusive and timid she’s become over the years.
No. No way did he lie. I would’ve known if he had.
But this Casey also isn’t hiding behind a forced smile and jumpy behavior. She’s meeting my eyes with hunger and lust. It may be Erikson’s hands on her body, but I can see in those blue depths that it’s my hands she’s imagining.
It’s almost enough to quell the possessive rage roiling through me. That is until I see her grinding her ass against him.
Motherfucker.
She’s the most covered woman in this place, yet that move with her dancer’s form combined with her natural sex appeal brings my dick to life.
And the insane possessive jealousy roars so loudly, I’m shocked it’s not audible to everyone here. It bubbles my blood like molten lava, making my teeth grind, and my fingers clench tightlyaround the glass tumbler in my hand until I feel it crack under the pressure.
If this is some kind of test from above, they better have a pair of wings waiting at the gate.
Then they stop dancing. Casey continues dancing, but Erikson travels in the opposite direction, toward the restroom.
I stand from my seat, tossing several bills on the table. With my left hand, I reach into my suit jacket, retrieving my phone. After I tap out a quick message, I nod at my brother, who’s hovering over some blond nearby. He meets me at the entrance of the corridor leading to the restrooms, and I give him instructions. He groans, wrapping his hands around his neck, then heads for Casey’s table while I make my way down the corridor.
Heaven can keep the wings.
****
Standing in the shadows beyond the lighted path leading to the men’s room, my back presses against the wall as my feet cross at the ankles with my hands shoved into my pockets. Anyone who sees me sees cool, calm, and unbothered. As if I’m simply waiting for someone to come out.
My wait isn’t long. The green door to the bathroom opens. Out steps the slippery predator, who’s always used my father’s money and team of lawyers to cover up his dirty dealings. Shit that should’ve landed him behind bars, or at the very least, on the registry of sexual predators.
Catching him off guard, my fingers wrap around the collar of that ugly as fuck shirt he’s wearing, yanking him back and tossing him deeper into the unlit corridor.
“What the fuck?” He grunts. His eyes meet mine, and he smirks. “Good ol’ Graham. Haven’t you heard you don’t fuck with themerchandise?”
When I followed him back here, I only meant to warn him. I wanted to make it crystal clear. He is to stay far,faraway from Casey. Knowing Erikson as I do, a little physical… emphasis would’ve been needed, but nothing more than a broken nose or black eye. Just enough to make sure he understood I meant business.
But the small baggy at my feet changed that.
I’m not surprised. It’s his MO. Drug them and rape them, then use his connections to make the girls seem dramatic, crazy. Toss a little money and a lot of fear their way with an NDA, and he gets away without so much as a slap on the wrist. He’s been an indestructible cockroach for a long, long time. I hate to admit it, but my dad has had a hand in it. For reasons I never understood, he was always quick to run to the asshole’s rescue instead of cutting him loose. Even after Sons of Sin came along, toppling Dirty Minds’ popularity by leaps and bounds and becoming the money maker for the label, Dad kept the son of a bitch around. Business-wise, I get it. Erikson and his band were still big money-makers. They may not be number one, but they’re still a hugely popular band.
I wonder if he can maintain it without a trachea.
I bend over, picking up the clear plastic with two fingers, never taking my eyes off him. His gaze is arrogant and malicious as he pushes to his feet, and he nods toward the drugs in my hand. “Didn’t know that was your thing, Graham. Golden Boy Graham taking a walk on the dark side?”
“You know, I never understood the Golden Boy thing. I’ve worked my fucking ass off for everything I have, and I’ll be damned if any of it is temporary.” His smirk slips when one of my own forms and I eliminate the distance between us. “As far asthe dark side… You have no idea how dark I can get, but this…” I shove the baggy into his shirt pocket and tap his chest. “We both know who this belongs to. You thought you could drug her, touch her?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Had a small wager with someone. That was my insurance, but if you didn’t notice, she was plenty into me.”
“A wager with whom? And why?” I am vibrating as a tempest of fury rages inside me. Every muscle is coiled tight with the unfettered desire to choke the life out of this piece of shit.
