Page 33 of Perdition (Unchained Hearts #4)
TWENTY
Were costume parties supposed to smell like beer and wax candy and hormones?
The sounds of the bar were nearly deafening, especially since her ears weren’t quite used to that amount of clamor anymore.
It had been months since she’d been to a full-on club party, and the house was now much quieter with the twins gone.
Before that, though, those two could practically tear the house down to the studs with their arguments—thought they rarely fought—and their movie nights where War turned up the volume to “brain-scramble” so he and his sister could watch The Expendables as their ears bled.
Her kids were awesome, and she loved the hell out of them, which was why when Sorsha called, crying about a friend of hers who’d died, Em had dropped everything—including her confrontation with a pale, desperate, and seething Frost—to get to her daughter.
She’d spent the night with Sorsha, getting the full story, holding her as she sobbed, and just being that beautiful young woman’s mom.
Since then, Frost had called and texted every day, but she’d only replied to his texts when they were about the kids.
She was still silently raging over their conversation…and she knew it was because it wasn’t finished.
They weren’t finished.
And Frost had made a point of saying that by leaving her property kutte on the porch with a note that read:
This will always belong to you, just like I will.
I love you, Emily.
Mads loves Em 4-ever
That had sent her into a sobbing fit that lead directly to an overindulgence in Dove chocolates, Arbor Mist, and Chinese dramas.
She’d tucked in at home, doing her best “hermit with emotional issues” impersonation, and was finally held down and scrubbed clean of chocolate stains and bad choices when Cheri came barreling through the door, followed by Cilla and Stephie, who were determined to get her out of the house and make her feel human again.
Cheri, the bitch, had taken on a new project for a rich client and wouldn’t be joining in on the fun, but she’d instructed Stephie and Cilla to make Em “dance with her tits out.”
Em was torn between grateful for letting the girls drag her to the party, and annoyed…for letting the girls drag her to the party.
And making her wear the costume Stephie had brought for her.
Tugging on the hem of her much too short pleated skirt, she ignored the huff of annoyance from Cilla, who’d weaponized her big doe eyes to make Em’s resolve crack, which lead to Em dressed like some anime schoolgirl, complete with tiny hard plastic Hello Kitty backpack, and sitting at the table in a bar she’d only visited once before.
When Frost was considering investing in it for an old buddy.
He’d brought her, letting her think it was a date, but that thought, and the happiness it brought, died when two men sat down at the table with them, folders of documents were spread out of the table, and she’d disappeared into the vinyl of the booth at her back.
It wasn’t until she’d had to pee and she’d asked Frost to move so she could get out that he’d actually remembered she was there.
That he’d brought her there . He’d made excuses, told her he’d make it up to her in bed, then offered to take her somewhere else that weekend.
But Em had still gone to be alone that night.
And their weekend date hadn’t happened.
At that memory, tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she told herself it was the booze.
Sipping her Moscow Mule, Em let her gaze drift over the gathered crowd.
Cool Hands was relatively new in the city, and it had become popular quickly—having bikers for patrons and investors drew in the crowds of desperate wannabees and even more desperate wanna-bangs.
Tonight, though, the place was at capacity, and she could feel it. The heat, the noise, the expectations….
Her gaze caught on two people grinding on each other on the dance floor. Two men, one dressed as Dean Winchester and the other dressed as Castiel. Apparently, those two had shipped those characters and were living out their fantasies.
Em smiled, loving that. Her gaze skipped to another couple, this time they were dressed as characters from some popular K-Drama she’s never seen but Val had, so she’d spent a good twenty minutes gushing over the plot and characters.
Em nodded in all the appropriate places, and smiled at Val’s enthusiasm.
Despite all the heat and noise, Em couldn’t miss the feeling of being watched. And not just watched, but… watched , like a lion watches a gazelle as it drinks the cool waters of the river…right before it’s devoured by the lion.
Em fought back a shudder at that thought, equal parts intrigued and annoyed. She could admit she was curious—who wouldn’t be?—but she was also flustered, because she had no idea what to do about it.
“Uh…yeah…I’m not getting the deposit back on these Santa pants,” Val, who was dressed as Santa Claus for some weird reason, drawled, her expression unrepentant as she squirmed in her seat.
The woman was off-beat but freaking hilarious.
Right then, though, she was a little too honest …
and probably a little impish. It worked for her, though, and it was one of the things Em—and all the other Unchained and their women—appreciated about the quirky computer genius.
Stephie and Cilla, dressed up as a naughty nurse and zombie baker, respectively, both looked at Val, their eyes wide, their noses scrunched up in disgust.
Em cringed, then chuckled. “What the hell, Val?”
Val shrugged then took a sip of her vodka tonic.
“I said what I said. That man is straight up porn walking—and my man is fucking hot, so I know what I’m talking about.
” Her man, Redtube, was a former social media thirst trap who’d made a fortune making edgy videos to arouse the masses.
Now, though, he was all about his woman, Valentina, and trying to knock her up.
The overachiever was determined to have a kid ASAP, because Horde and Stephie were expecting, and Redtube didn’t want to get left behind.
Forget the fact that Cilla and Nadia weren’t even interested in getting pregnant, but that didn’t stop their men from “practicing.”
Nadia nodded in understanding. “It’s the SAPD uniform,” she offered, her eyes pinned to the same view as the rest of them—Sgt.
Bradley Copper in all his fine-ness. He was dressed as—surprise, surprise—Captain America, complete with spandex costume, plastic shield, and all the delicious muscles.
Lord a’mighty. He was staring at her , his eyes dark and hooded, the beer halfway to his mouth, forgotten, as his gaze scorched Em’s flesh.
“It cranks up the hotness factor by a hundred, then you take into account the way that man is looking at you— whew .” Fanning herself, she offered Em a crooked smile.
“If I were single, I’d probably slobber all over him—as it is, Locust is glaring at me like I proclaimed my love for another man while fully naked.
” She rolled her eyes, and the other women laughed.
Her man, Locust, who like the rest of their men, refused to dress up, was standing with the other men at a table just on the other side of the bar.
The only way they agreed to let their women go to the party in the first place was because they’d be there to keep them out of trouble.
In possessive biker speak, that meant keep the other men away from their women.
It was cute, and Em was old hand at dealing with a jealous, possessive alpha male, so she’d know.
As it was, Frost was glaring at Sgt. Copper like the man owed him money and his first born.
But she wasn’t thinking about Frost.
Nope.
Not at all.
She inwardly groaned, hating that she couldn’t stop her gaze from sliding to him, catching glimpses of him through the crowd.
So far, he’d had one beer, nursing it as he watched her, then watched Sgt.
Copper watching her. Frost was there but he was so removed from the party going on around him, he didn’t react to all the hungry stares from all the scantily clad “nurses”, “witches”, and K-Pop Demon Huntrixes.
“He’s not wearing his cop uniform,” Cilla offered unnecessarily, making Nadia roll her eyes.
“Not right now, but just knowing he wears blues, a badge, and a gun….” Once again, the woman fanned herself, smirking. “Anyway,” she pinned Em with a look that spelled trouble, “has he made his move yet?”
You mean like lean in for a kiss in the middle of a liquor store? Yeah, she wasn’t telling anyone that!
Em rolled her eyes. “Pfft, he’d have to be out of his mind to do it here, that’s for sure. And with the glare Frost is hurtling at him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he switched patrols just to keep far, far away from the shop.”
As tempting as it was to stir up trouble by openly flirting with the younger man, Em was not interested in wasting the energy necessary for all that drama.
Sure, it was satisfying to have so much attention on her—literally two alpha males basically fighting over her, but she honestly, wholly, and completely only wanted to be with one of them.
He was an asshole, an idiot, and a careless piece of shit, but he was her asshole, idiot, piece of shit.
But that was marriage, wasn’t it? That was any commitment worth keeping—the pain with the pleasure, the heartache with the joy, the failures with the victories. She couldn’t accept one without the risk of experiencing the other.
Not if she wanted to be with him.
Ugh. I’ve got to be out of my mind, giving that man a chance to hurt me again.
And she would, because she’d texted him that morning, telling him they needed to talk, and this time she’d let him have his chance to speak. Last time, she’d raged, venting months of pent-up anger, and he hadn’t had a chance to truly respond. That wasn’t communication, and it wasn’t fair.
To hell with fair! He had all those months to “communicate” and he’d wasted them on Sarah.
Ugh.
Sarah.