Page 29 of The Stallion (Men Under Revue #2)

Bria

The sun had already set as we pulled into Stardust's underground parking ramp.

Dallas wore dark, loose-fitting, ripped jeans, a plain white T-shirt accentuating his toned torso, and a black leather biker jacket.

Before he bombarded me in the closet, I already had on my jeans, so I matched his style by throwing on a silky white tank top, the lace fabric brightening up my favorite dark denim. The deep V of my neckline gave a subtle tease of my bra, which paired perfectly with my charcoal black moto jacket.

Our outfits mirrored each other—even down to the Louboutin shoes.

We were the perfect, picturesque couple that emanated— the couple that slays together, stays together —energy.

And honestly, I fucking loved it.

Once parked, my husband rushed to the car’s passenger side, opened the door, and presented a hand for me to take.

“Such a gentleman. I didn’t realize that murder made you so civilized.”

“If only you knew just how much of a turn-on the image of you killing someone was. I won’t be acting civilized in the slightest tonight. I love an unhinged, beautiful woman.” Dallas kissed the back of my hand as I stood from the McLaren, and I felt my face flush with adoration.

“Here, put this in your ear. This is how we’ll communicate once inside the Casino and club.”

Turning my hand over, he placed a tiny earbud, the size of a dime, into my palm. Without question, I inserted it into my right ear, fixing my hair to conceal it.

My assigned target was a hotel guest staying at Stardust who held a private VIP reservation at Essence this evening.

Essence was known for being a very popular nightclub situated halfway down the strip—a prime location for fun , with its VIP services contributing to its long history of being more provocative.

The MUR owned and operated the club, and apparently, this specific guest had rubbed too many of its staff the wrong way—deliberately.

Dallas rested his hand in the small of my back as we exited the elevator and confidently strolled our way through the casino floor toward the club.

I swallowed my anxiety as we approached the main entrance to Essence. The long, deep indigo curtains, sparkling with thousands of tiny crystals embedded in the sheer fabric, were draped closed for privacy.

A guest services attendant stood at the host desk to control access and establish VIP escorts for those with confirmed reservations.

“Emily, good to see you’re on shift this evening.” Dallas smiled warmly, pulling me closer to his side with a gentle squeeze on my hip as if I would be upset that he knew this woman by name and gave her a look that I only wanted for myself.

I also couldn’t help but notice just how quickly Emily’s bright blue eyes started to undress and fuck my husband without any hint of subtly.

I mean, she was pretty; I’ll give her that. With her long blonde hair, skimpy black fitted dress, and tall black glossy stripper heels. But I knew he was mine, and I also knew what I would do if another woman even attempted to take him from me.

The thought alone elicited a smirk that dripped sickeningly sweet venom from my red-painted lips.

“Dallas, Dustin reached out earlier this afternoon and made all the arrangements for your—” She nodded at me, hesitantly, and I fisted a hand behind my husband’s back as my jaw tightened.

“…Wife.” You bet your sweet fucking ass I’m his wife.

“Here’s her badge, key card to the illusion suite, and Dustin’s exclusive invitation for his guest.”

Emily extended her hand with the items and before Dallas could reach for them, I stepped forward, taking them for myself and pressing my ass against him territorially .

“Thank you, Emily.” I beamed with a fake ass smile that didn’t come anywhere close to meeting my eyes before sliding my hand into my husbands and leading him through the twilight curtains.

We turned a dark corner, and within seconds, Dallas had me pinned up against the wall, his forearm pressed above my head, the other gripping my chin. The bass from the music inside the club vibrated the wall behind me.

“Sweet girl.” He dipped his head and breathed against my lips. “I don’t know what’s come over you, but that… was incredibly fucking hot.”

“I don’t share what’s mine, Ponyboy.” I dragged my free hand up the side of his neck, threading my fingers through his soft strands. “And your saddle only seats one as far as I’m concerned.”

“My eyes are only for you, Bria.” Dallas grazed his lips along mine, my eyes falling shut with the light touch.

“I’m as much yours as you are mine, and no one will ever change that fact.

I’m not some childish boy; I’m a man, and I know exactly how a woman like you deserves to be treated and respected. ”

“You always have such a way with words.”

“Just like you have a way with my heart—” He stole my breath with a long, passion-driven kiss, sending my stomach fluttering and my core into a feral frenzy of desperate need. “Now, let’s take care of our guest and get the fuck out of here so I can worship my precious wife for the rest of my life.”

As my husband pulled away, I drew him back in for one more blazing taste .

“I’ve got this, Dallas,” I assured him, tapping his ear that held the earbud for communication. “If I need you, I’ll call.” He gave me a suspicious look, as if he were worried about what could happen to me going inside alone, without him.

But I knew what I could handle, and this test was right up my alley.

“The second I feel like you’re in danger, I’m stepping in.” He promised, and I brushed a stray lock of his blonde hair from his forehead with a gentle touch.

“I don’t doubt you, but you won’t have to.”

With one lingering soft kiss, I nuzzled his forehead with mine before he let me go, and I headed up the stairs to the second floor of the nightclub, where the VIP rooms were located.

The hall leading to my target’s room was dark, the only source of light coming from the hundreds of thousands of tiny lights that mimicked a field of stars. The padded walls muffled the loud music that had been playing in the central portion of the club.

I heard voices and giggling from the other side as I approached the door marked number six. Before entering, I put on my badge, which introduced me as Holly, an onyx-tier host for Essence and the highest-ranking member of staff.

With a last deep breath, I straightened and pushed on the handle.

The VIP suite was a basic room with dark violet padding embedded with the same stars that filled the hall.

In the corner of the room was a long half-moon sectional, and a few feet in front of it was a round stage and a pole that provided various forms of entertainment for the VIP guests throughout their stay.

I sauntered across the room to where two other women were entertaining my target. They were wearing the same tight black dresses and heels as Emily.

“Leroy Davenport.” I crooned, perching myself on the edge of the stage before him, one leg crossed over the other, and his invitation extended out between my fingertips.

“Dustin Slate has designated me as your personal escort for this evening. You’ve been upgraded to the illusion suite with his warm regards. ”

The burly man bent forward to accept the invitation, his dark eyes getting a good look at my name and status before he sent me a smarmy grin.

Leroy was dressed to the nines, a full suit with a black button-up half undone and his dark hair slicked back with gel, giving it a glossy look.

“About fuckin’ time Dustin recognized me and everything I’ve done for his worthless ass.” He coldly dismissed the other two women before roughly dragging me down from the stage to straddle him. “Lead the way, Holly. I’m looking forward to taking full advantage of his hospitality tonight . ”

His remark alone told me that he had no actual fucking clue who Dustin was and the secret society he ran. And unfortunately for him, he was about to find out that information the hard way.

I fought to hold back the physical cringe that threatened to break through my seductive facade. I despised how he touched me, the feeling of his fingers as they dug into my skin. It screamed every sick intention he had, my clothes not nearly enough to separate the contact.

Pressing my palms into the padded wall behind his shoulders, I pushed myself off his lap and turned, seductively swinging my hips toward the door, giving him a thorough view of my ass.

Regardless of how I felt, I still had to play the role—to be the tease he wasn’t expecting.

“Mister Davenport, if you’ll so kindly follow me. Your new suite is on the third floor.”

I found it incredibly hard to keep up my cover, to hide the disgust, until my husband’s soothing voice spoke through the earpiece.

“If you don’t kill that fucker for touching you like that, I fucking will.”

I smirked, pressing my lips tightly to hold back my full expression.

Once we had reached the third floor, I pulled the black key card from my back pocket and held it to the scanner.

The light just above the pad turned green, and with an audible click, the frosted glass door automatically slid open to the side.

The motion lights activated and illuminated a deep purple room with matching sheer drapes hanging from the ceiling.

The illusion suite was far more impressive than the VIP rooms downstairs—the upgraded plush velvet instead of leather upholstery, with a large sectional on one side of the room and a massive bed on the other.

There's no surprise as to what this room was used for .

Gross… I hope those sheets are new. Where’s a blacklight when you need one?

I heard the door close and a zipper fall from behind me, and I shuddered at the sound.

“Mist—” I was cut off as I turned to face my target. A finger pressed firmly against my lips to stop my sentence.

“I don’t need whatever coy act Dustin is paying you for. Get on the bed and spread those skinny legs. Your looks alone sold me on my preferred form of payment.” His voice was gravelly and harsh, like nails dragging across my skull with every word.

I could feel the bile burning the back of my throat, moving well past repulsion at this point, my stomach already flipped on its axis. I had to keep reminding myself that I was here to kill and that he wasn’t going to take advantage of me.

This might’ve been my test, but I knew there would be plenty more targets like him to come, and if I didn’t get over this hurdle now, I knew that I never would.

Sensually sliding my jacket down my shoulders, I took slow, calculated steps backward toward the bed, dropping it to the floor once my heels hit the base.

The large man prowled after me, tossing his blazer aside before unbuttoning his shirt completely and removing his belt. He held the thick leather firmly between his sweaty palms.

“I said, get on the bed, little red.” The order was a blunt growl as he snapped the belt halves together in threat.

Dallas mentioned that I didn’t have to take my time; my test wasn’t one of prolonged, drawn-out torture, just to isolate and eliminate. All they wanted was this piece of shit dead and out of their hair.

Not taking my eyes off him, I kicked off my heels and climbed onto the bed as demanded, scooting back on my knees until I reached the headboard, and slid my fingers behind it for support.

This room was explicitly rigged for all business related to the MUR, and I felt my ticket out of here right at my fingertips.

Instead of crawling across the bed like I had expected, Leroy stepped up onto the mattress and stalked closer—the springs creaking with every heavy step.

I curled my fingers around the handle of a blade concealed within the headboard, and when he stopped, towering over me as if I were a cornered lamb, ready for the slaughter, I made my move.

Launching myself with an upward thrust, I moved to jam the knife into the side of his throat, but quick hands interrupted my assault, a firm hand wrapped around both of my wrists, squeezing until I released my grip on the handle.

Shit…

With cat-like reflexes, I was slammed onto the bed by my throat, struggling under his firm hold and weight.

“So, Dustin thinks he can play games now, huh? Always sending others to do his fucking dirty work.” I clenched my jaw at his sick chuckle of delight. “No matter. He won’t miss one of his fucked up harpies, even if he sent a pretty one this time around… Such a fucking shame, little red. ”

Gasping for air, I clawed and dug my nails into his wrist and forearm while using my free hand to feel around and blindly search for the knife I had dropped.

Fuck, I’m running out of time…

My lungs started to tighten with the lack of oxygen, and I could feel myself slipping away—head spinning, vision blurring.

With one last desperate swing of my arm, I found what I was looking for and drove the blade into Leroy’s side.

He barked a string of curses before falling to the side while I rolled in the opposite direction, holding my throat as I choked on a forced inhale, still clinging to the handle of the knife.

I could hear his grunts and groans from the single stab and knew I needed to finish him off before he overpowered me again.

With the sudden realization that this would be my one chance of taking him out, a burst of energy hit me like a shot of adrenaline directly to the heart, and I flipped myself back over in his direction.

Still short of breath, I drove the knife into his back and then again into his chest as he quickly rolled to fight me off.

Leroy’s moves turned slow and sluggish the more times I stabbed and slashed at his body—the sheets and my white tank top now spattered with his deep crimson blood.

I hoped I looked as feral as I felt.

Eleven…

Twelve…

Thirteen…

I lost count as I repeated my savage assault, taking out all of my aggression and pent-up rage from the last six fucking years on him .

With one final blow, I drove the knife into his neck as deep as I could go before releasing the handle and falling on my back out of exhaustion.

Seconds.

It took only seconds to stab this man to death, and I still hadn’t recovered from the air I had lost while he choked me out. My eyes kept begging to fall shut, as my erratic breaths failed to keep up with my racing heart.

Dallas.

I need to get to my husband.