Page 28 of Bitter Spirits

“Looking forward to it.”

With that, Nova lifted her chin at Locke then turned and headed back to the bar.

Heat hit Isa’s back as Locke moved in, crowding close as he reached around to set his now empty glass on the table. He braced his hands on the table on either side of her as he bent his head close. “Get ready, sweetheart,” his voice rumbled against her ear.

Caught between him and the table, the only thing she could do was turn her head toward him, which put her lips temptingly near his jaw. “For what?”

He dipped his head closer until mere inches separated them, and she could see the light of sardonic amusement burning deep in his eyes. “We’re about to have company.”

She didn’t have time to do much more than blink before one of the bouncers took Nova’s place. Slowly, Isa turned toward their unwanted visitor. Big and broad, dressed from head to toe in black, he was focused on Isa, stupidly dismissing Locke.

“Ms. Serrano, Mr. Herrera would like to invite you and your friend to his table for a drink.”

There was no way to get out of the invitation, but she still tried. “Appreciate the offer, but we’re good.”

The bouncer’s attention went to Locke then back to her. “He insists.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but Locke got there first, his hand drifting down her spine and setting off a shiver. “I could use another drink.”

She pushed her drink away as resentment curled through her. She wanted to rail at him for dragging her here, even though it had been her decision. It wasn’t fair, but then, none of this was.

So instead, she crammed all the messy emotions into a familiar box and locked that bitch down tight. “Fine.”

Leaving her half-finished drink on the table, Isa followed the bouncer across the walkway and up the stairs to the third floor. Locke stayed at her side, close enough that their bodies brushed but not so close that she felt crowded. They hit the third level, and the club noise took a step back, adding to the ambience of importance. As they walked by the shadowed alcoves, the brush of invisible eyes was nearly physical. Her skin crawled with each step as the weight of unwanted curiosity joined the sticky strands coiling around her, pulling her deeper into the darkness. It was as if Angel’s presence crawled through the club, slipping along the emotional threads emanating from those gathered and tightened around her until breathing was difficult.

Unsettled, she played with the Zemi charm bracelet at her wrist, and the constricting bands eased enough for her to rediscover her balance. She snuck a look at Locke. In between the dance of shadows, she could make out the tight line of his jaw and the feral intensity as he scanned their surroundings, his body coiled and ready.

She caught his hand and laced their fingers together. He looked down at her, and she mouthed, “You good?”

Locke angled his head to her, his lips curving not in humor but in predatory delight. He brought her hand up and brushed his lips across her knuckles.

Right, okay. So the unseen threat she’d felt was just her freaking out. Something she couldn’t afford to do because her emotions would only feed the monster lying in wait.

She pulled in a breath discreetly and refocused, herding her apprehension over to the box she’d shoved her other emotions into and coaxing it inside. Once it joined the others, she proceeded to bury it deep. By the time the bouncer came to a stop outside one of the larger alcoves, she was comfortably numb.

“Ma’am.” The bouncer turned sideways and waved her toward the recessed booth, where a petite blonde in a sparkly sheath snuggled up to a man in all black and, to their right, another couple lounged.

Anchored by the weight of Locke’s palm at the base of her spine, Isa glided up the two steps and into the web.

Chapter 10

Locke

Locke studied the man holding court in the center of the curved, cushioned seat that made up the alcove. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t the urbane sophisticate dressed in tailored black, untangling from his blond companion to get to his feet as Isa moved up the two steps into the alcove. Any lingering signs of the streets that had spawned the man were hidden under a slick veneer of charm as he threaded his way between the legs of the couple sitting to the side and the low round table cluttered with drinks and half-finished appetizers.

“Isa, lovely to see you. Thank you for joining me.”

Isa stepped onto the floor of the alcove and stilled. “Not sure we had much choice.” Her voice remained coolly polite, though under Locke’s palm, he could feel the tension singing through her spine.

White teeth flashed in Angel’s dark, close-cropped goatee as he closed in and caught her hands in his. “The choice is always yours.”

He went to lift her hands, but she pulled them away, turned deeper into Locke, and placed her palm against his chest. Without hesitation, Locke adjusted his hold, his hand sliding down from her back and around to her hip, where he could tuck her into his side.

Based on the quick flash of fury in Angel’s eyes, Locke’s message had made it through loud and clear. Angel’s attention centered on Locke, and his charming smile sharpened. “And you are…?”

“Hers.” The blunt truth served the dual purpose of claim and challenge, neither of which would sit well with Isa but would land him on Angel’s radar as a rival.

“Is that so?” Angel studied him for a long moment.