There was no such thing as being too careful, though. I learned that the hard way. The disguise I wore was to lure Dusty in, and for later, when the security guards or any friends of Dusty’s here were asked to id the woman he was with all night, the new look would come in handy.
I did my best not to look like myself in case any of the few gang members who knew me showed up unannounced. They probably wouldn’t have recognized me either with the wig and all the makeup. I didn’t look like the Cameron they knew at all.
When I sat at the bar, Dusty offered to buy me a drink. I nodded, giving him a small—hopefully sexy—smile. I didn’t speak, afraid my voice would shake or give him any hint of the psyche underneath. Even though I’d been planning this for months, determined to go through with it no matter what, I was nervous as fuck.
“What’s your poison?” he asked, his hand—huge hand—around his beer.
I glanced at him. It was the first time I took a close look at his face. The dance floor was too dark to notice the details, and before tonight I’d always watched him from a distance.
The first thing that grabbed my attention was his smile. The kind that melted hearts and messed with heads. A very powerful weapon coming from those fleshy lips. His eyes weren’t any less dangerous. Warm. Beautiful. Bright with shades of green in them.
He had thick, black hair that reached below his ear, a heavy stubble, and ink covering his neck. The white T-shirt and leather jacket must have hidden more tattoos…and muscles. Big ones. Lots of them. I could see the outline of his bench and six packs through his T-shirt. According to my information, he wasn’t over twenty years old, but he looked more...masculine.
To say Dusty was good-looking was an understatement. He was really beautiful and didn’t look anything like Roar. His piece of shit father was blond with long, unkempt hair. Rough face. Hard jaws. Sickening smile. He was large and rugged with a threatening presence—Dusty was large, too, but in a…more appealing way.
My gaze shifted to the barkeep. I wouldn’t let myself be fooled by appearances. Even when everybody was saying Dusty wasn’t a monster like his father, and I knew for sure he wasn’t there when Annie was taken, he was still the son of the fucker that took my sister. He wore the Night Skulls’ cut. He was one of them. “Whatever you’re having.”
Dusty ordered tequila shots and a beer. I had one shot with him so it wouldn’t be too suspicious. I needed my strength and clarity tonight. He took a swig from the beer, and I fumbled with my purse and let it slip out of my hands. He put the bottle down and picked the purse off the floor for me.
“Thank you. I think I’m already tipsy.” I pretended to giggle.
A crooked smile curved the corner of his mouth. “What do you say? Wanna get outta here?”
Goosebumps spread across my skin. “Okay. You finish your beer. I’ll hit the lady’s room real quick and meet you back here?”
He took another swig. “Sure, babe.”
The second I hit the restroom, I braced myself against the sink, shutting my eyes, evening my breaths.You can do this. It’s all working according to plan. You can do this!
As I opened my eyes, I noticed the few girls who were already inside. They were looking at me through the mirrors on the wall. “You all right?” One of them paused reapplying her lipstick to ask.
I stared at her for a moment, clutching at the marble to hide the shaking of my hands. Of course she didn’t know when I dropped my purse earlier, I’d slipped a drug into Dusty’s beer, and now I had to wait here for a few minutes before it kicked in. But my face must have shown how nervous and scared I was.
I never had second thoughts about what I was about to do to Roar’s son. It didn’t mean I was okay with it, though. I felt horrible. Torn. Afraid. How did those thugs from The Night Skulls do it with smirks on their faces? Taking someone, hurting them without an ounce of guilt or fear?
HOW?
The concerned look in the girl’s eyes nudged me back to reality. Even remorse was a luxury I couldn’t have. Nodding once at her, I wet my lips in silence. I spun and sprinkled some water on my face. Then I fixed my makeup and headed out.
No turning back now.
Dusty was still at the bar, finishing the last of his beer. I took a deep breath as I reached him. “Ready when you are.”
He slid his arm around my waist, no signs of the drug on him yet, his hand low on my hip. Pictures of me breaking that hand to the point of permanent damage occupied my imagination all the way out of the club and to the parking lot.
The shiny Harley stood out in the middle of the lot, and he wanted to take me for a ride and then to his place.
Shit.
I needed him in my car. At my place. I laughed to hide my nerves. “You don’t look like you have an extra helmet.”
“You always follow the rules?” he retorted, fully sober.
Why the fuck was he not out yet? Did I mess up the dose? Or did he pretend to drink that beer? Oh my God, what if he figured it out or saw me slipping that drug?
My heart thrashed.Don’t freak out now. Just don’t.
I blinked, laughing under my breath, leaning into his chest. “How about we break some rules in the backseat of my car?”
