Page 17 of Darkest Kiss

I follow him down the street, glancing behind me to make sure Hale is with us. Hale isn’t the most talkative guy. What is he is a solid brick wall, covered in scars, and fucking terrifying to looking at. He's the first one you want in your corner when weapons aren't an option, though.

He’s got a killer right hook.

Ransom hands me a long, thin ceramic blade in a sheath. "Tuck it somewhere in your jacket."

I have just the spot—a hidden pocket on the side of my jacket that looks like part of the seam. A vision of my future swims in the back of my head. Me pulling this blade on the first guy I encounter after I walk through the door. Hot blood on my hands, his screams in my ears.

My mouth curls up at the corner. I don’t know what lies ahead, but I know I’m ready for anything.

"You're enjoying this," Ransom says, watching me check the blade's weight. "The part where you get to save your girl."

"A little." I tuck it into the seam pocket. "Better an avenging angel than a silent martyr."

"Mm." He straightens his cuffs. "And it doesn't bother you, going to this much trouble over a woman who doesn’t even know you exist? She could hate you."

I look at him. He's got that flat, amused expression he wears when he thinks he's the reasonable one in the conversation. Ransom likes being the man who keeps his head while everyone around him loses theirs.

"That's funny," I say. "Coming from you."

His expression doesn't change, but something behind it does. He eyes me. "You want to explain that?"

"I’ve seen you at the Candy Club. Ever since we opened that spot, you’re up there. Four nights a week, sometimes five." I straighten my cuffs. “You think you’re a mystery, but I’ve seen you watching the same shot girl for weeks. Tell me. Have you said a single word to her?"

Ransom's jaw works. Hale, behind us, goes very still, looking amused.

"That's different," Ransom says. “You don’t know who she is.”

"Does it matter?" I roll my shoulders, loosening up for what's coming. “You’re not as opaque as you think, Ransom.”

His bright blue eyes narrow. “You stay away from her.”

“I’ve got my hands full.” I raise my hands. “I’m just saying that everybody seems to have a pressure point. Hale, back me up.”

“No.” Hale chuckles and shakes his head.

“Fucking cowboys,” I mutter. “We’ll see what you say when you get your girls.”

“Never going to happen,” Ransom says.

“What he said.” Hale jerks his thumb at his brother.

"At least I'm doing something," I tell him. "You just sit there and call it restraint."

Ransom looks at me for a long moment. Then he turns toward the warehouse like the conversation's over, which is how I know I'm right.

"We’ll talk about this later," he says. "We're up."

Nodding to Ransom, I follow him up to the door of a warehouse. A guard stands outside, armed to the teeth and wearing an earpiece. Ex-military, if I had to guess. He examines our hands as we approach.

"We're on the list." Ransom smiles at him, which has to be eerie rather than disarming. "Doug Parks, Adam Rendon, and Jay Black." He points to me and Hale. I'm apparently Adam for the evening.

Hale keeps his eyes on the guard as he checks his iPad. Then he searches us for weapons and opens the door.

"Masks are required." A young woman wearing a mask and a see-through lace dress offers us a silver tray of masquerade masks. We all take one and pull them on. Faintly, I can hear the low thud of techno music as she waves us on and parts a black curtain.

When I walk in, it's obvious this place is used regularly for trafficking auctions. The stage is the main focus of the room, large and lavishly decorated with an ornate curtain drawn to a close. To the left of it is a sleek bar, behind which two masked women take drink orders and make cocktails. What gets my attention are the clusters of men spread out around the room, chatting and waiting for the auction to begin. Nearly all of them are dressed in suits, as if this is an occasion to be celebrated.

My blood runs hot at the sight of them. A woman carrying a tray of drinks flits between the groups. When one of the customers grabs her and pulls her down onto a couch, she gasps. No one even breaks their conversation when the man shoves his hand up her short skirt and bites her neck.