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“Yeah, I know. And what if I was interested in mating?”
Chuckling followed, the we-share-a-secret kind. “You’re a slut. If you ever get mated, the world comes to an end.”
Nate glanced down. The three males in front of him were Shuli’s buddies, all aristocrats who had that same kind of money, those same kind of clothes, and those flashy watches and exotic cars. They were the set of partiers who referred to sunglasses as sunnies, who drank the liquor that was above the top shelf, and who dated human models before they mated the females their sires picked out just so they could stay in the will.
“You wouldn’t have the balls to try her.”
“I sure as shit would—”
“I would.”
One of the males turned around and looked up at Nate. “How ’bout you? You in?” Then the guy slapped the thigh of the high rollernext to him. “He’s in. So come on, let’s see who has the cajones to ask her out.”
“What do we win?”
“What do you think,” the aristocrat drawled as he looked Nalla up and down. “If she dressed right, she’d be a bitcoin.She’sthe prize.”
Nate’s molars gritted as he shifted his attention back to the “prize.” Nalla was sitting next to Rhamp’s sister, a total mismatch in those jeans and that parka. Then again, she never went to places like Bathe. And no, he didn’t agree with how she was being discussed, but he’d heard it before. Everybody had heard it before: Zsadist was going to kill anyone who got too close to his little girl.
So leave her the fuck alone.
It was good advice. And something he didn’t need to be reminded of.
Lowering his lids, he tried to make like he wasn’t staring. She’d already caught him twice—both out in front and in here—and given the way she’d just glared back at him, he had to approve of how much she obviously didn’t like him.
He so approved of her opinion.
So no, he absolutely wasn’t rememorizing everything about her, from the way her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the blond, red, and auburn ends disappearing over her shoulder, a halo of loose curls framing her face… to how her features were strong ones, just like her father’s, especially her mouth. Her coloring was all Z’s, too, those yellow eyes like a cat’s in sunlight, her skin smooth and unmarked by freckles or moles.
She was going to leave in a matter of moments, he decided. Bolt the fuck out of here like she was being chased: Her hands alternated between being locked on her knees and rubbing up and down her thighs like she was having to force herself to stay in place. As she checked her watch again, he wondered what she was waiting for.
Except again that, like whatever dumbass dick-posturing was going on in front of him, was not his business.
Taking out his burner phone, he fired up a photograph he’d snapped earlier, and—
“Yeah, I’m totally in,” one of the males said. Then he motioned at Nate. “Tall, dark, and tatted is in. You’re up for it, too? Good. Let’s settle this, boys.”
Nate looked up from his cell and frowned at all the high-fiving.
Then he leaned down and clamped a hold on the shoulder pad of the loose-lipped jack-off who’d volunteered him for whatever game they were playing. The guy jumped like he’d been goosed in the ass, and as a set of pale eyes met Nate’s, he bared his fangs at the aristocrat.
“Don’t youeverspeak for me again. Are we clear.”
With a shift of his torso, he made it so that his leather jacket fell open and the forty he had holstered under his arm caught the black light. The second the message was received was obvious as thoseglymerapeepers peeled wide.
“Um, yeah. Cool—”
Shuli cut through the apology, raising up from his seat across the way like he wanted a fistfight. “Will youfuckingrelax, and stop waving thatfuckinggun around.”
“That’s up to him, not me,” Nate shot back.
The aristocrat between them put both hands in the air, stickup style. “No, no, it’s good, Shuli. It was my bad. I’m sorry.”
Nate straightened and went back to his burner phone, following through with a text under the image of Mickey Trix, who he’d gutted like a deer and left for dead in the ring of trees by his log cabin.
Then he hit send and stared across the VIP section.
Over by the entrance, the receiving cell was obviously on vibrate, as Uncle abruptly dipped a hand into his slick suit jacket and took out a device. He was talking to somebody as he glanced at the screen, and his mouth immediately stopped moving as he checked what had been sent.
