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The buzz of conversation bled into the sensual sounds of The Weeknd’s “House of balloons/Glass Table Girls.” A wave of déjà vu rolled over me as I made my way down the dimly lit hallway to another club’s office. I was in this mess because of a situation eerily similar to this one.

Low murmurs sounded from behind the door. A door that only had a lock on the handle.

Fuckin’ amateurs, I swear.

A loud thud sounded in the room as I shoved the door open and it hit the wall. “Evening, gentlemen,” I said nonchalantly, walking in with my bat casually thrown over my shoulder, ignoring the handguns pointed my way. Caleb leveled a gaze my way. His stare was violent and dangerous. I should have been terrified as he slowly drifted over my body with his mossy eyes; instead, my excitement increased tenfold.

The corners of my lips curled up.

A nasally voice came from one of the chairs in front of Caleb’s desk. “Well, Caleb, this is a nice surprise. Beautiful, why don’t you come to sit on my lap while we finish discussing business?”

My skin crawled at the demand, but I didn’t look at the man who’d spoken—continuing my stare-off with Caleb while tracking the other two in my periphery as they stood along the back wall, flanking him. All three of them looked ready to throttle me. Their glares intensified the longer I stood there. You could cut the tension with a knife.

Pudgy fingers bit into my bicep, drawing my attention to the man twice my age sitting in front of Caleb’s desk. His greasy graying hair was combed over, not doing a damned thing to hide his receding hairline. Beady eyes the color of dirt glared at me; a look of disdain was plastered across his ugly mug. Cheap cologne itched my nose, and even in an ill-fitting suit, I saw how out of shape he was.

“Don’t be fucking rude, girl,” he barked, his grip tightening. “When a man says you’re beautiful, thank them. You can give me a blow job to make up for your poor manners.” His laughter caused him to miss the low growl coming from Niko.

Within seconds, the barrel of my Sig was flush with his pocked skin. I smiled as the color drained from his face, leaving him ashen. Sweat beaded up along his wrinkled forehead when he realized I wasn’t being reprimanded or thrown on the floor.

“What the fuck is the meaning of this, Caleb?” His tone was panicked and higher than it had been a few seconds ago. Satisfaction thrummed in my veins. The three boys earned back some brownie points by standing there silently. It was clear that they didn’t want to, though. The shoulders of all three were practically in their ears, and Kenji’s hand was resting on the hilt of his katana, while the other two had their guns pulled.

This was a test.

They wanted to see what the fuck I was doing here and whether I was about to lose my nerve and turn into a sniveling pile of nerves. Or whether I would fuck up their meeting.

“What? Don’t like a bitch with a backbone? That’s a shame because that’s what you got. See, if I’m rude, it was because you fucking deserved it.” I moved in front of him, giving the boys my back as I perched my ass on the desk. “I’m not rude. You’re upset that you weren’t able to assert dominance over me. But just because I don’t have a dick doesn’t mean I’ll get on my knees to suck yours.” I leaned forward, digging the gun barrel deeper so it’d leave an imprint. “I owe you nothing. Not my name. Not my attention. And sure as fuck not my politeness,” I bit out.

Men like him preyed on women who’d been told “don’t be a bitch.” That term had been used to shrink women for so long that some still believed the lie.

Be a bitch. Eat the ones who want to prey on you.

The man’s partner sat in the chair, watching the entire exchange, not making a move to intervene.The asshole in front of me was visibly shaking in fear and anger. Fueled by the coke I was sure he’d snorted earlier in the evening based on how blown his pupils were and the powder still clinging to his sorry excuse for a mustache.

“You—”

“Ivan. I’d be very careful with what you’re about to call my wife.” The rumble of anger in Caleb’s voice sent heat shooting down my spine and settling between my thighs.

“Wife?” Ivan asked, his confusion clear as his gaze bounced between Caleb and me.

I waved my hand in dismissal of his question. “It’s a new development, but that’s not what we need to discuss, Ivan.” I crossed one leg over the other, slightly bouncing my heeled foot as I spoke. “Here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to place your hand on the desk, and I’ll ask you some questions. If I don’t like your answer, I’ll slam this metal bat down on your fingers. Got it?” I asked.

A laugh spilled from his lips as he looked toward Caleb for a clue as to what was going on.

“Scar, come stand back here and shut the fuck up or leave the fucking room. We have a meeting with Ivan, and you’re interrupting the information he’s giving us.” He bit out the words.

Irritation burned deep inside, fanning the flames of my anger. I wasn’t some fucking plaything to be taken out only when they wanted. I had a fucking life, and this shit was what I did best.

There wasn’t any patience left in my body, so unless one of these assholes physically carried me out of the room, these walls would be painted with blood tonight. Ignoring Caleb’s command, I stood and rounded Ivan’s chair.

“Ivan, you do a lot of work with the cartel, right? You might know my friend, Ryan Hernandez.” His head shook, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “No? Maybe you know Ryan’s street name then.” I leaned down and whispered it in his ear, keeping my eyes locked with Caleb’s. The minute the name hit Ivan’s ears, a physical shudder took over his body, bringing a smile to my face.

“Yeah. I thought that would be the case. Well, see, the techniques Ryan uses during…interrogation? Some of them came from me. Like this one.”

The next second, I had my Sig pressed to his knee, and I pulled the trigger. Screams of agony echoed throughout the room. Hopefully the music would be loud enough to drown out the noise because Ivan wasn’t the only one being loud. All three guys were yelling out either profanities or questions like what the fuck was that? but I didn’t move my attention from the man slumped over in the chair, attempting to hold together his ruined knee.

“How you feelin’, Ivan?” I asked. He had no response other than shrieks of pain that faded when he passed out from the pain.

Kenji moved toward me with his hands lifted in the air like I was a wounded animal. They thought I’d lost my mind, when really, they were getting a glance at the real me.