Page 35 of Unmasking Mayhem (Behind the Mask Duet #2)
sixteen
walking on eggshells
Cade (“Red”)
Sure Thing: Miguel
A s I navigate through the packed crowd of Masked Mayhem members, an electric energy courses through me. Since I haven't spotted King or D yet, I can breathe a bit easier. I know, however, that when they arrive, things are bound to take a chaotic turn.
Tonight isn’t just another event; it's one of our big races—our money-making night. Plus, I have to deliver what the captain expects from me. That can wait until tomorrow, but damn, how am I supposed to gather intel on people I’ve come to care about?
Undercover work has never posed a problem for me, but Whitney has changed everything and brought me to a better place, and in my line of work, that's a fucking problem.
I scan the crowd but fail to find 13, Havoc, or even Crow, so I head up the stairs toward the main area.
There I see Boston and Whitney dancing, captivating the audience as part of the evening’s main act—the crowd is massive.
I push through the sea of bodies until I reach the front of the stage, where I accidentally bump my shins against it, sending a sharp sting radiating through my legs.
From the crowd, I can sense the tension simmering between Whitney and Boston; the glares and eye rolls are unmistakable, even behind their masks.
Yet, they continue dancing, performing seamlessly as if nothing is wrong.
I take a seat on the steps beside the stage, my gaze fixed on Whitney as she gracefully maneuvers her body up, down, and around the pole.
The way she moves leaves me utterly fucking speechless.
Although she knows I’m watching, she deliberately avoids meeting my eyes, but I know why.
Suddenly, a jarring punch to my shoulder spins me around, and I come face to face with Havoc and Crow.
Their expressions are more suspicious than anything else.
They don’t need to say a word; I already understand why they’re here.
We have a fucking job to do, and it’s time to get started.
"Didn't think you'd show up, ghosting us like you have," Havoc says with a smirk, crossing his arms over his chest.
His gaze darts to the dancers—mainly Whitney—a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Crow leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, watching the scene unfold with an expression that's mostly unreadable.
"Yeah, well, priorities," I reply, forcing a casual tone as I glance back at Whitney.
She's in the moment, wholly absorbed in her performance.
I want to yell at her to drop the fucking act and come join us, but that would ruin everything.
If I want to get to the bottom of what's been happening, I have to play my part.
Havoc snaps his fingers in front of my face, pulling me back from my thoughts.
"Focus, man. I’ve seen a couple of new faces in the crowd, and something feels off."
Crow shifts against the wall, finally breaking his silence. "Then we split up and hit the floor. I can catch up with some of the guys near the bar. You and Havoc should keep an eye on the back; if King and D show, they'll probably come in from there."
"Sounds good," I agree, though my mind drifts back to Whitney. "But I’m going to need a distraction. Something to shake the crowd up a little before the race."
Havoc grins, a wild spark igniting in his eyes.
"You’re talking about chaos, right? What if we kick off a little fun?
You know how well that always works—people lose their fucking minds when the unexpected hits.
Leave that shit to me." He leaps from the steps, heading toward the edge of the floor, and I turn back to Crow.
"Stay close to them. I don’t want anything happening."
Crow simply nods, his expression serious.
As Havoc begins to stir up ‘good trouble,’ I skirt around the edges of the crowd, my pulse quickening.
The music shifts, and the crowd roars with delight as a few brave souls step up, eager to showcase their skills alongside the dancers they feel so inferior to.
I can feel the atmosphere change as laughter and cheers erupt, and that’s when I decide to take my chance.
I weave my way through the crowd, my eyes darting between the dancers and the newbies lurking in the corner.
With the crowd momentarily distracted, I reach the edge of the stage again, spotting Whitney lost in the music, her body captivating with an intoxicating rhythm.
For a heartbeat, everything else fades away—the undercover mission and the pressure from the captain, even my growing anxiety about King and D.
It's just her, lost in the music, and I'm fucking mesmerized.
But the moment falls short. I force myself to focus again, scanning the darkened corners of the club where the shadows loom, potentially hiding those who might be involved in the dangerous underbelly of our city.
Havoc's wild antics continue on the dance floor, and I notice a few of our rival associates peering out from the shadows, amused yet intrigued by the commotion.
I push off the stage, feeling the music pulse beneath my feet.
I approach one of the figures—a tall man with a slicked-back haircut and an air of confidence.
“Exciting night, isn’t it?” I venture, leaning against the wall next to him.
He turns, eying me up and down, though his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Depends on who you ask,” he replies, his voice low. “Some are just here for the show. Others… well, they have different interests.”
I nod, keeping my expression neutral. This was the guy I wanted to talk to. “I’ve heard rumors about some new plays in town. Club Mayhem’s just the front, right?”
He raises an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Always a lot of whispers around here, but you have to earn your cuts. What are you willing to offer for that kind of knowledge?”
Before I can respond, Havoc interrupts, crashing through the crowd toward us, a triumphant grin plastered on his face. “Dude, you should’ve seen that last dancer! I swear, I thought they were going to give us a show with how wildly they went at it!”
“Someone’s got to keep the party going,” I say, trying to guide him back to focus.
The man in front of us puts up his hands, a look of mild annoyance crossing his face. “You’re underestimating how delicate our business is. Show some respect, or you might not like the final act of the night.”
Havoc seems to grasp the tension at once and takes a step back, looking apologetic yet mischievous. “Right, right! Just making sure everyone’s having a good time, you know?”
I seize the opportunity to sharpen my focus again. “So what’s the latest on them? I heard they might be involved in something bigger.” The guy glances at Havoc and then seems to consider his options, weighing them like coins in his palm.
“You’ve got fucking guts, I’ll give you that,” he finally says, lowering his voice. “But this isn’t your fucking game, kid. Stick to the dance-offs. Trust me; you don’t want to get tangled in the web your bosses spin.”
But there’s something about his tone, the way he looks back towards the shadowy corners, that makes the hairs on my neck rise. I take a step closer, lowering my voice further.
“I have an in with Mayhem, and I’m not afraid to play hardball. I know more than you think.”
He studies me for a long beat, and just as I sense the conversation turning in my favor, a deep voice cuts through the night like an ice pick.
“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little fucking rat.”
I turn to find King standing there, D lurking behind him like some dark omen.
The weight of their presence sends a ripple of apprehension through the crowd, the atmosphere shifting from playful chaos to something more tightly wound.
My heart races; the game just escalated.
With King’s wary eyes drilling into me, the challenges of tonight become visceral; the stakes are higher than I ever anticipated.
"Well," Havoc nudges me to snap me out of my paralysis, "looks like the party's about to get interesting."
My pulse quickens as I try to formulate a plan, knowing that tonight might just be the tipping point.
I prepare myself, forcing a casual demeanor as King strides closer.
His gaze is sharp and assessing, and I mirror his confidence, attempting to mask my racing heart behind a facade of calm assurance.
D stands a few steps behind him, his expression inscrutable.
"What's going on here?" King asks, his tone deceptively light, the underlying threat intimidating. He glances at the man beside me, who shifts uncomfortably in the shadow of King's presence.
“Just talking shop, you know how it is,” I interject, hoping to steer the conversation away from any incriminating hints. “We were just discussing the girls' performance tonight.”
King's narrowed eyes linger on me, and I can practically feel the gears turning in his mind. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He replies, his voice now low and dangerous. “But I know you’re not just here to watch the fucking show. You’re always working a fucking angle, Red.”
At that moment, Havoc interjects, attempting to lighten the mood. “Hey, how about the girls give us another dance, huh? The energy’s dying down over here!” He chuckles, clearly trying to break the tension, but the humor falls flat in the face of King’s scrutiny.
“Shut the fuck up,” King snaps, and the room goes quiet.
All eyes are suddenly on us, the air thick with anticipation. I can feel the pressure mounting and know that I must act, and quickly.
“I’m not here to cause problems, King,” I say, raising my hands slightly in a placating gesture. “I just heard some rumors about new players in town. Thought I could get the lowdown.”
His expression flickers but manages to retain its steely edge. “Rumors can get you killed. Information is currency, and you’ve got to be careful who you fucking trade with. You don’t seem to understand the fucking risks, do you?”