His brows drew together, suspicion burning in his eyes, even as his voice smoothed out.
“Mr. Winstale,” he growled. “To what do we owe the honor?”
A loud moan cut through the room as the couple in the corner finally finished. He squeezed his eyes shut for a beat, lips twitching as he sent a glare in their direction.
So he did have the ability to feel embarrassed. Interesting.
“How could I stay away,” I said lightly, “when you’re running something so…esteemed.”
His jaw worked. Fury flashed in his eye before vanishing behind a tight smile. He lifted an arm to my left, gesturing toward a hallway off to the side.
“Let’s take this to my office,” Fitz said. His tone was smooth, but his shoulders were tight, like he was already bracing for impact.
I nodded and waited for him to lead. If he thought I was going to let him have my back, he had another thing coming. He gave me a nod and moved around me, gesturing for me to follow him while his men pretended not to watch. Whatever game he thought he was playing, he wasn’t going to catch me flat-footed.
My fingers rolled the two cold metal balls in my pocket, round, heavy, familiar. The kind of comfort that meant I could turn this whole building into ash if I felt like it.
Rack fell into step behind me, but I needed to keep an ace in my back pocket.
“Stay out here,” I threw over my shoulder, sharp enough to cut. I didn’t look back. Didn’t give him the option to argue.
Fitz led me down a narrow hallway lit with sickly yellow bulbs. Doors lined both sides, some cracked open, some fully shut.
Moans leaked through the seams. A headboard slammed a wall somewhere up ahead. Someone laughed, high and breathless, then cried out again.
If Fitz thought any of it would rattle me, he’d picked the wrong guy. I grew up around clubs, around bodies, around sex being treated like background noise.
The only people on earth who could still make me uncomfortable were my parents.
A chill crawled up my spine, pure reflex, as a memory tried to claw its way forward.
Ten years old. Coming home. Hearing my mom scream and I freaked out.
My hand threw open the door as I called out for my mom. The first thing I saw was Papa Avery’s ass thrusting. Her scream being blocked by Dad Ax and Father Falcon next to her, whispering in her ear.
My stomach lurched.
I blinked hard and shoved the image down so fast it left my throat raw. I could still feel Ezra’s shadow-hands covering my eyes, her low, steady voice telling me to stop trying to tear my eyes out.
They didn't stop. When I saw them later, there were no apologies or explanations. They just shrugged and told me to think twice before coming into their room again.
Yeah. Nothing Fitz had behind these doors was going to top that, so I kept walking.
“Oh, fuck!” a voice shrieked. High. Sharp. Familiar.
My feet stopped. The hallway blurred at the edges as everything in me snapped to attention. The music from the main room faded. The moans from other doors vanished.
All I could hear was that one room.
“Y-yes—yes! Right there!” the voice cried again, breaking into soft, helpless little sounds. “Fuck me—right—there!”
My blood went cold.
No.
I’d heard wrong.
It was just a voice. Plenty of people sounded alike.
