Page 46 of Pretty Ruthless Monsters: Complete Series

ATLAS

I check my appearance one last time in the mirror in my room, smoothing down the front of my shirt.

I’m dressed up for tonight’s venture in a suit, something I rarely have any reason to wear.

I don’t like it, much preferring my usual dark jeans, steel-toed boots, and Henleys.

But Nico wasn’t lying about how particular the dress code and code of conduct at Eros is.

Vincent Locke is a snake dressed up like a gentleman, and despite the fact that he makes his money in the dirtiest way possible, buying and trading human beings like cattle, he likes to do it all under a veneer of luxury and civility.

And if Quinn and I want to have a chance of getting a chance to speak to him, we’ll have to do the same—for tonight, at least.

I drape a tie around my neck and somewhat awkwardly tie it, cursing under my breath as I get it wrong the first time and have to start over. Once I’m satisfied with it, I smooth down the lapels of my jacket, check myself one more time in the mirror, and then head downstairs.

Nico and Killian are sitting in the living room, neither of them speaking as they wait for me and Quinn to be ready to go. I can tell that Nico is on edge, and although he’d never fucking admit it out loud, I know it’s because he’s worried about Quinn.

I’m not sure she quite understands what she’ll be walking into soon, despite the warning he gave her this morning—but I do, and no matter how fucked up things are between us, I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect her.

Nico’s gaze flicks over me as I walk over to stand by the couch, and he nods sharply. “You should be good. You’ll blend in with most of the crowd at Eros, which is what we need.”

I snort under my breath. “I’m so glad they’ll approve.”

Nico rises to his feet, his expression serious. “You know the rules of the place. And you know that Vincent doesn’t bend on anything. You remember what you need to say to get in?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

We called in a favor from an old contact of ours to get a passcode that will allow us entrance to the club, and I’ve memorized it. It’s in Latin, which is pretentious as fuck and only makes me despise Vincent more, but it definitely fits with the vibe of his club.

“Good.” Nico claps a hand on my shoulder. “Keep your eyes on Quinn,” he adds. “I know she’s determined to get answers, and she’s not wrong that this is our best chance. But Vincent Locke is temperamental as fuck. It doesn’t take much to piss him off, and if that happens, our chance is gone.”

I nod, my stomach twisting. “I’ll try to get a feel for what kind of mood he’s in before we talk to him. If I can.”

“Good. Get the info and get out. And make sure he doesn’t have any reason to tell anyone we’ve been poking around. The last thing we need is for this to get out.”

“He looks out for his own interests,” Killian chimes, rising to stand with us. He’s usually a bit hard to read, but right now, he looks almost as tense as Nico is. “And he prefers to keep to himself. He won’t insert himself in the middle of a conflict like this unless we give him a reason to.”

“Nice to find a shitbag who’s not opportunistic as fuck,” I mutter. “Someone else might sell us out to whoever we’re up against. Either for money or for shits and giggles.”

“Let’s not rule it out,” Nico warns. “Just in case. We need the info, but we need to play it safe.”

As we’re talking, I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. We all glance over to see Quinn coming down, and I freeze at the sight of her.

She’s distracting enough in her usual t-shirt and jeans, or the clothes she wears to do yoga, but this… this is something else altogether.

Her dress is black and so form-fitting that it might as well be painted on.

The material has a soft shine to it, reflecting the light in a way that highlights every line and curve of her body.

It’s short enough that it shows off her legs from the upper thigh down, putting the tattoo that crawls down her right thigh on full display.

And it’s sleeveless, leaving her shoulders bare and her cleavage practically on offer.

Her hair spills down around her shoulders, and her eyes are lined with dark eyeliner and smokey eye makeup, drawing attention to how large and luminous they are.

She looks sexy as hell, but also like she could kick some ass if she needed to, even in that dress. The overall effect is fucking heart stopping, and I have to swallow hard, curling my hands into fists.

Distantly, I’m aware of Nico reacting to the sight of her, and there’s even a certain shift in Killian’s demeanor. He doesn’t move, and his expression doesn’t change, but his jaw is tight, and his eyes haven’t left Quinn since she entered the room.

She adjusts her dress as we stare at her, pulling it down in the back, which does absolutely nothing to make it any longer.

“What?” she asks, sounding grouchy.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus. This is a delicate task we have to take on tonight, delicate enough that I have to be on my game. The way Quinn makes me lose my fucking head every time I’m around her is going to have to take a back seat to business tonight.

“Are you ready?” I ask, not bothering to answer her question because there’s no good answer I can give.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

She strides toward the door in her heeled boots, but before I can follow her, Nico grabs her arm and pulls her back toward him. Quinn gives him an impatient look, which he ignores.

“One last thing,” he says in a low voice. “Vincent probably won’t be out in the main part of the club. He’s there every night, but he doesn’t mingle among the clientele. You’ll have to find a way into the back of the club to see him.”

She frowns. “And how do we do that?”

He huffs out a frustrated sounding breath, still holding her arm as if he can’t quite convince himself to let go yet.

“I don’t know. That’s something you and Atlas will have to figure out when you get there.

But don’t mention Carnage, and don’t mention me.

He might not have heard about our marriage yet, but if he has…

” Nico chuckles lightly. “Well, you can mention the fact that you hate me. No need to pretend with him.”

Something passes over Quinn’s face, as if she doesn’t particularly like Nico joking about her hating him. She schools her features a second later, but I know I’m not wrong about what I saw.

For a split second, my mind flits back to that night outside our club, when I shoved Zoey off my lap and ran outside after Quinn.

It’s not real .

That’s what she said about her marriage to my brother at the time, but I could hear the doubt in her voice, the subtle lack of conviction. Even she didn’t quite believe her words, and watching the two of them now, I can see why.

“We’ll find a way to talk to Vincent,” Quinn promises. “We’ll get him to tell us what he knows.”

Her eyes flick to me like she’s waiting for me to agree with her, and for once, I don’t look away, letting our eyes meet briefly as I nod.

“We will,” I confirm.

“Good.” Nico glances between us, then catches Quinn’s chin in his hand. “Be careful,” he says, then dips his head to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

I keep my gaze on them both, not quite sure why I’m torturing myself by watching. She stiffens for a second, as if surprised by the gesture, then leans into the kiss briefly, her body arching toward his as if she can’t quite help herself before they finally break apart.

He grins at her, heat flaring in his eyes. “ Sembri una dea, mia cara. Potresti tentare anche un monaco a peccare .”

The words roll off his tongue in Italian, and even though I’ve picked up a few words over the years from being around him, I have no idea what he said.

Quinn rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t pull away from his touch, and I feel the itch of jealousy under my skin.

Even if this marriage is a sham for convenience and the alliance, it still means that Nico can do shit like that.

He can pull her into his arms and kiss her, and as much as Quinn claims to dislike him, her body language tells a completely different story.

Finally, she steps back and turns to me, and I stride away, not meeting her eyes.

“Let’s go, vicious,” I mutter, yanking the door open so we can leave.

We drive instead of taking the bikes, but I almost wish we hadn’t. We take Quinn’s car, although I insist on driving, and the ride to the club is tense, my hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel.

Quinn sits in the front passenger seat, not talking, not even looking at me. She stares out the window, probably lost in thought about the mission we’re about to take on.

My head is full of conflicting feelings.

About her . About the way she looks. The way she smells.

The way she bites her lip absently, tugging the soft flesh between her teeth.

The last time we were alone together, I told her she needed to go or I’d fuck her over her own motorcycle.

We’ve barely spoken since then, and the tension of having that hanging over us is thick.

I shouldn’t have said anything, and I fucking know that.

But the booze and the heightened emotions, having her so goddamn close to me… it all fucked with my head until every thought I’ve ever had about her came pouring out.

On top of the awkward tension between us, there’s the anxiety about this mission.

It’s dangerous, and so much rides on us playing this perfectly.

For as much work as I’ve been doing to try to find clues about who could be attacking us, this is our best lead.

Our best chance at finding out information that could end this shit.

And with people dying now, we definitely need that information.

But if something goes wrong, not only could we lose this chance, but we could both be in real danger. I know Quinn can handle herself, but still, the drive to protect her is like a beast roaring inside me.