Page 2 of Dangerous Men (Fortune City Mafia #1)

“ Gay ,” Jade interrupts, pointing at herself.

“Very, extremely, vagina-loving gay woman here. Move along and please do not interact with or startle the lesbian.” She says it without an ounce of volume control or restraint.

I hide my laughter behind my hand as the men look back and forth between the two of us, distressed.

Jade takes a loud slurp of her drink as she watches them.

When they finally regain their composure, both men shift their full attention to me. Maybe they’ve accepted that their efforts are lost on Jade. More likely, they just think I’m the weaker target.

“How about you?” man number two asks, leaning an elbow on our table, his grin wide and too eager. “Can I buy you a drink?”

I raise my martini to eye level, wiggling it at him. “I’ve actually got one already, but thanks.”

And here we go. There’s something that happens in the male brain that translates “no” to “try again, please.” Instead of leaving us alone and crawling back under the bridge they came from, both men sit down at our table, clearly willing to press the issue.

Even if I were in the right mindset to meet someone—which I’m decidedly not—this isn’t the approach.

“Come on, sexy. One more?” He smiles at me, adding a wink for good measure.

Gag .

“I’m truly uninterested,” I say, more firmly this time.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun. A drink, maybe some dancing?

” He shifts closer, until his legs are pressed against me, ignoring the way I tense at the contact.

His hand reaches out and touches mine, his fingers trailing over the lip of my drink.

“I saw you out there dancing, you know. You looked so hot.” He whispers the last part into my ear, like it’s a gift.

Like all my life, I’d been waiting for a gremlin to spot me from across the room and breathe hot, stale breath onto my neck.

His words conjure the memory of how I’d felt on the dance floor, under that enticing touch of someone’s gaze, but I don’t think these were the eyes I felt on me. Nothing about this man is reminiscent of the dark, magnetic pull I’d felt before.

Misinterpreting my silence as an open invitation to something more, he lifts his hand to stroke my hair, fingers playing with my brown curls.

That’s the last straw.

Jerking away from him, I gulp down the second half of my drink and stand up to leave.

Jade instantly follows my lead, rolling her eyes at both men as she stands and grabs her leather jacket.

Usually, I would never give up a table to avoid a slimy guy—or even two—but I think this is the universe telling me that tonight is a wrap.

Between seeing Chase and the creepy progression of this interaction, it’s time to pack up and move on.

When I turn to leave, though, the guy next to me stands up too, blocking my path. I feel a rush of anger at his audacity, but I force myself to push it away.

I’m not that angry girl anymore, I remind myself, stifling my rage.

I am an ocean of calm.

I move to pivot around him, but he reaches out to grab my wrist, pulling me closer until we’re chest to chest. “Fucking bitch,” he spits at me. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Jade stares daggers at the guy as she tugs me toward the exit, murmuring, “Come on, Syd, they’re not worth it. Let’s just go.” The opinions of these men mean nothing to her, and I can tell she’s hit her limit of liquor and drama for the night. Gin has always made Jade adorably lethargic and calm.

Unfortunately, it has a very different effect on me.

I like to think of myself as a docile person. A good person. But I guess a few too many drinks and a couple of entitled assholes are all it takes to unleash my violent side.

“Excuse the fuck out of me?” I yell, pulling my hand away.

Now that I’m standing—as unsteady as it may be—it’s obvious I have a couple inches of height on him, even without my heels.

And I’ll be damned if I’ll let this gremlin of a man speak to me like this or put his hands on me.

Reaching out, I snatch his glass of cheap whiskey off the table.

He realizes what I’m about to do just a split second too late, mouth gaping like a fish right before I throw the drink in his face.

When he recoils, sputtering and wiping liquid from his eyes, it gives me plenty of time to grab his friend’s drink and toss that one in his face, too.

I’m pulling back my hand to deliver a well-deserved slap to his whiskey-drenched cheek, blinded by my rage, when Jade grabs me by the arm.

“That’s enough of that!” She laughs, tugging me away. “Come on, Syd, time to go!”

The fog of my anger clears enough for me to realize she’s right.

A swift exit is probably for the best. Both men are shouting now, and people around the club are turning to stare at us, drawn to the uproar.

I let Jade drag me away, stumbling after her as we push through the crowd toward the emergency exit.

It’s a fight to get through the throng of people, and—distracted—I slam face-first into someone’s chest. For a split second, my world narrows to the scent of expensive cologne and a deliciously well-toned body. Then another yank from Jade pulls me away.

The shouts behind us grow louder, angrier, but the second we hit the emergency exit and stumble into the back alley, the door slamming shut behind us, the noise cuts off, and the world turns quiet.

Safe.

We hit the pavement laughing and take off running like we’re being chased. My adrenaline is dizzyingly high, and neither of us slows down until we’re two blocks away from the club. When we finally stop, we’re panting, breathless, giggling messes.

“That was amazing!” Jade throws back her head to whoop.

I laugh, wiping sweat from my forehead. It’s the height of summer, and the suffocating heat enveloping Fortune City tonight isn’t any better than the heat of the packed club we just left.

The air is still as the dead, without even the promise of a breeze to cool us down.

It makes the world feel strangely distant and hazy.

I stumble, a little unsteady on my feet.

Maybe that last drink was one too many.

“You were ready to slap that guy,” Jade says, still laughing. But she doesn’t sound like she’s admonishing me. She sounds proud . “Oh God, Sydney, you haven’t acted like that since… since... since we were kids!”

I stop walking, swaying on shaky, gin-addled legs. On any other night, being reminded of the angry person I used to be would hurt. Those memories are too sharp, too brittle, and when they cut, they cut deep. But tonight, instead of shame spiraling over the violent girl I used to be, I revel in it.

It felt good to stand up for myself like that, didn’t it? No—better than good. It felt great .

Jade stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, giggling as she catches herself against a parking meter.

It’s clear from the way she leans against it for balance that she’s only a few minutes away from slipping into the bad place—that point where the liquor takes over completely and it's lights out. Time to officially call it a night.

My Jade loves to drink, but she’s a tiny, stubborn thing, and the combination usually lands her in trouble. My apartment is only a few blocks away, but Jade lives further out in the central district, and there’s no way I’m letting her walk home in this condition .

“Okay, let’s get you home, little miss drunky-drunk,” I say, digging in my bag for my phone to call her a ride.

“Syd, I can get myself home,” Jade insists, her words slurred. “It’s not that far. I’ll grab a share bike.”

“Jade, my love, my best friend, my everything ”—okay, maybe I’m a little too drunk, too, because I’m slurring just as badly as she is—“I’m not letting you bike home alone. We’re getting you a lift. And that is final.”

“I hate when you make sense.” Jade pouts dramatically before throwing her hands up in surrender, almost tipping over in the process. “Fine! Order me a car. But you better text me the second you get home, okay?”

According to the app, there’s a ride available right around the corner. I’ve barely finished entering her address and setting the pickup location when the car pulls up to whisk her away.

I tuck Jade safely into the backseat—mildly concerned that the driver, Edward, according to the app, looks like he hasn’t finished puberty, let alone earned his license—and shut the door.

“Love you!” Jade yells drunkenly from the backseat, face pressed against the window, her words misting the glass.

“To the moon and back!” I yell right back at her, waving as the car pulls away.

The air feels a little cooler as I start my walk home, and the streetlights are unusually bright against the dark night sky. I blink at them, drunkenly, trying to focus. But they keep moving. And they’re getting brighter by the second, shining like little suns.

Huh. Isn’t that pretty ?

I had fun tonight, but I’m grateful the night is nearly over. Soon, I’ll be passed out in my comfortable bed. I’m looking forward to it, craving it, as I stumble down the sidewalk .

Naturally, this is when I realize something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

My legs feel unnaturally heavy, and time seems to twist and slow. The bright lights around me dim, and then fade to black, and the last thing I see is the sidewalk rising to meet me as I fall.

Shit.