She looks like she might cry again, so I kiss her cheek and send her toward Diablo with a gentle shove. “Go tell your biker not to murder the owner unless we get paid.”
“I heard that,” Diablo says.
“You were meant to.”
Shady waits at the end of the hallway.
Still exactly where I told him.
Far enough.
Listening.
That should not undo me.
It almost does.
I walk toward him because apparently I have learned nothing from fire except that it is pretty.
The hallway to the greenroom is darker than the club, narrow and painted black, with old flyers peeling at the corners. The bass is muffled here, more heartbeat than thunder. Shady falls into step beside me, not touching.
“Your mouth gets you in trouble,” he says.
I glance over. “Yours got me kidnapped.”
He takes that without flinching.
“Wow. No comeback?”
“I’m trying growth. Hate it.”
I snort.
He looks at me like the tiny sound is a gift, and my chest hates him for it.
We reach the greenroom door. I should go inside. Shut it. Let Darling come in. Let Diablo post guards and Alpha trace screens and every man in this building do something useful far away from my skin.
Instead, I stop.
Shady stops too.
The hall hums around us.
“You listened,” I say.
His eyes hold mine. “Yeah.”
“Even when that shit went on the screens.”
“Wanted to break every screen in the building.”
“I know.”
“Wanted to carry you out.”
“I know.”
“Wanted to kiss you in front of every camera so nobody could ask who I choose ever again.”
