Page 93 of Hearts Storm

Good. Maybe she’ll keep him busy for the rest of the night.

Kinda hard to fight fires without your hands.

“Brex put you up to this?” I ask, spinning her out and back.

Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Hmmm. Whatever you say, Angel.”

Just as the song ends, Brex seems to materialize out of nowhere. It’s then that I realize I’ve been so lost in her, I almost forgot where we are.

“My turn.” He grins, holding out his hand.

Reyna’s eyes dart back and forth between us, something flickering behind them that I can’t quite read as she takes his hand.

“You’ve had several already,” I growl.

“And I plan on having many more.”

Smug fucker.

“One song,” I warn, low enough so only he can hear. “Then I get her back.”

“Sure thing,” he winks, spinning her away.

I retreat to the bar and order another whiskey while Brex waltzes her around the room.

When she throws her head back, laughing at something he says, the sound hits me right in the solar plexus.

For the next hour, we trade off like we’re playing some fucked-up game of musical chairs.

Every time a song ends, one of us is there, ready to claim her. But each time she’s back in my arms, she seems a little more tense. More closed off. At one point she excuses herself to the ladies’ room, Sasha following closely at her heels.

After another thirty minutes of cat-and-mouse, I ask, “Everything okay?”

“Of course.” But her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just a little warm.”

She’s lying. I can see it in her body language. Feel it in my bones. She’s not as pliant as she was with our first dance, not even our fifth.

Plus, she keeps glancing toward the exit.

“Um, maybe I just need to get some air.”

A rush of concern floods my veins. “You want me to come with you?”

“No. I… Excuse me.”

Before I can respond, she’s rushing across the room and out a side door.

Catching Brex’s eye across the room, I shrug and mouth, “What the fuck?”

Brex just jerks his head toward the door she just sailed through with a smirk, eyes dancing with that annoying I told you so glint he tends to get when he thinks he’s won.

Oh, now he wants me to go after her? After spending the last couple of hours playing pass-the-girl like she’s a goddamn football?

Fine. Whatever.

If anyone’s going to score a touchdown tonight, it’s gonna be me.