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“Is that what you think?” John’s light blue eyes light with irritation as he presses his fingertips together in a triangle. “Looks like someone’s got a bigger head than before. I didn’t really think that was possible.”
I shoot a glare that has him cowering as I slowly stand from my chair. “Humor really isn’t your forte, John.”
“I have a roomful of guys out there who would love to disagree with you,” he huffs, attempting to retain some sense of authority even though his voice quakes.
“You keep the company of ass-lickers, John. It’s to be expected.” I tip my chin and storm out of the office, slamming the door behind me.
I take exactly two steps and come face-to-face with Wes’s scowl.
“What did he say?” Wes demands, crossing a pair of bulky arms over his abdomen.
I shrug. “To lay low. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” he grumbles, turning away from me to stomp over toward the bar. “Do you want a drink? I need a fucking drink.”
I follow close, stopping in front of the large bar spread across the back wall of the club.
“You worry too much, Wes,” I say, rolling my eye as he glares across the bar.
“Oh really? You’re really going to stand there and feed me that bullshit?” Wes palms a bottle of Jack and fills two glasses to the brim before sliding one toward me. “I know that look in your eye, Kain. You’re fucking up to something.” Wes takes a large gulp of his beverage before slamming the glass back onto the bar top.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” I murmur, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. He brings his chocolate eyes up to meet mine, and I almost feel bad at the hurt swimming in them.
Almost.
“You’re becoming less like yourself by the day. Sometimes I’m not sure if I’m talking to Kain or my best friend.”
I roll my eye and down the entire contents of my glass. Slamming it down similarly to Wes, I slide it over for him for a refill while shooting him a warning glare.
“I’m still your superior, and you’d be wise to remember that.”
Wes gives me a blank stare as he pours another cup of whiskey. “You realize that shit is exactly what I’m talking about, right? Since when do you feel the need to give me the same act as everyone else?” He slides the glass over to me with a tad more force than the last time.
“It’s not an act, Bear,” I growl, my light eye shooting fire at him as I toss the second glass back. He shoots me a glare I know is due to my use of his club nickname. Wes hates when I use it even more than John hates my use of his birth name, but I’ve never understood why. It’s never stopped me from using it to bother him when he gets like this, though.
“Right.” He sighs, rubbing a massive palm roughly across his face. “Forget I said anything.” Wes stalks off with a huff and a sidelong glance, leaving me to stew over my empty glass. The fucker knows me too well. I am planning something, but he must never find out about it. Knowing Wes, he’ll try to talk some sense into me and make me see reason.
Little does he know that reason ceases to exist when I’m in her orbit.
The raven-haired beauty flashes in my mind, and my grip tightens around the tumbler. I need someplace I can spy on my new toy, somewhere far away from the prying eyes of my boss. And as risky as it is to involve someone outside of the club, I don’t have much choice.
I need Ghost.
Letting out a deep sigh, I look behind me to make sure I’m alone and pull my phone from my pocket, typing in the number I know by heart. It rings exactly once before the line clicks through, and I’m met with deafening silence. My jaw tightens as I squeeze the phone in my palm, knowing this is a mistake.
“It’s Kain. I need a favor,” I grit out, sure the device will snap in my grip the longer the silence draws out. Just when I’m about to hang up, a distorted laugh crackles through the speaker.
“Kain? I don’t think I know a Kain.”
My fist tightens. “Yes. You do.”
The line goes silent, and for a rage-inducing moment, I think he’s hung up. “It’s going to cost you.”
I sigh, drumming my fingers against the bar top. “How much?”
“A lot.” A distorted cackle ensues. “Everything comes at a price, my old friend.”
“We are not friends,” I snarl.
