Page 50

His smugness plummets into a scowl. “Sounds fake, but okay.”

Gripping my bag, I drape my arm around his shoulders, leading him from the room. “Eight more hours,” I assure him, “and you can have all the pussy you want.”

But until midnight, Rosilocks belongs to me.

Only me.

An hour later,it’s even worse.

The edginess is amplified to a thousand as Lex parks the van in the alleyway.

“What did he do to get kicked out of DKS?” I ask, covertly scanning the area.

At least my brother looks more rested than he did yesterday, some of that frayed rawness gone from his eyes. “No clue, but if I had to guess, I’d assume a lack of allegiance.” For Lex, it’s always about loyalty. It may be the only thing he admires about the Dukes, and probably why he was so quick to agree to this during negotiations. “I’m just glad Wick got to kick his ass at the Fury before he got bounced.”

The thing about wealthy men like Bruce Oakfield is they confuse money with power. They think they’re above the rules. That only makes it easier for us to do our job.

The car is sitting in the shadow of the big house. The Hideaway is a massive mansion nestled in the heart of South Side, once owned by a rapper who infamously went down for tax evasion. I met him once when we were both in county lockup. Cool guy. Really intense about macramé. But Daniel Payne snapped up his property and turned it into the best little whorehouse in Forsyth, which is something Father’s had sour grapes about since it happened. It was fine when Payne was slinging questionable cunt out of the sleazy Avenue motel, but real, high-class, luxury sexploitation?

That’s supposed to be Rufus Ashby’s thing.

“You sure you cleared this?” I ask, eyeing the shadows as we step out. The alley is narrow and too dark, and there aren’t any security feeds this far south. This place is ripe for an ambush and my blood rushes with it, nerves flaring in instinctual alarm. “They know we’re coming?”

“Perilini said we’re good to go.” Lex approaches the back door and knocks twice. And then once. And then twice again. His other hand is on the small of his back, resting on the butt of his pistol. “But be ready just in case.”

He doesn’t need to tell me. I’ve been preparing for this since the deal was made, hopping from one cloud to the next, looking for any signs of deception or suspicious activity coming from West End. That’s the problem, though. I hadn’t expected the handover to happen down here, on Killian Payne’s turf.

I don’t like it.

One gun in my waistband, another in my boot, I’m strung taut. When the door opens and a massive man appears, it doesn’t get much better. Trust has never been one of my strong points, and walking into enemy territory? Might as well just put my gun to own fucking temple.

“You’re late,” the guy says, and I recognize him as Marcus Reece from the Forsyth U football team. One of Payne’s top soldiers.

“Sorry.” Lex’s voice couldn’t have sounded less sorry if he tried. “Traffic was shit on the Avenue. We’re here for the package pickup.”

“You mean trash pickup.” Marcus jerks his chin. “Come in.” The door shuts behind us, which already has me flaring up like a live wire. And then Marcus tells us, “There’s been a little snag.”

My stomach drops. “What kind of snag?”

“Follow me.” Music filters from the front of the house, but Marcus leads us up a back staircase. His shoulders are so wide, they graze the walls when we turn the corner to the second flight of stairs.

I shoot Lex an alarmed glance, but he just shakes his head, mouthing, “Relax.”

Marcus goes on, “He’s been here for a week, ever since his father made him an open-ended reservation in one of our long-term rooms.” He leads us down a long hallway with doors on either side. The noises coming from each one varies. Music, soft talking, loud fucking. “Boss said no at first, not with the way he left DKS, but the Dukes made contact and asked us to let him stay until they sorted some things out. It seemed like a better idea to keep him occupied here than out on the street.” He looks back at us, grinning. “Plus, his daddy’s money is as good as any other.”

“So he’s just been living in a whorehouse for a week?” I ask. Nudging Lex in the side, I mutter, “Don’t tell Wick. He’d use his whole trust fund.”

Lex’s mouth twitches. “He’d never pay for something he could get for free.”

Point.

“Unlimited pussy,” Marcus adds, as though this isn’t a good thing. “It’s awesome until you get bored. Which he did, two days ago. The longer he spent here, the worse his requests got, until eventually, they stopped being requests.” He stops in front of a door. There’s a padlock on the outside. Fishing a key ring out of his pocket, he slowly picks through them until he finds the right one.

Lex shifts, and the movement chafes my already raw nerves. If his cool facade is cracking, then I know shit is looking sketchy. “Look, I’m all for suspense,” he says, “but what the fuck is going on here?”

Marcus sighs, scratching his forehead with the tip of the key. “Burns. He started burning our girls. Two of them took it, but the third?” His mouth flattens. “She was branded with his ring.”

I scoff. “Playing out his fucking Duke fantasy.”