Page 48 of Unlocked

Archer pulled up to the side entrance of the club and nodded to the guard.

"Gray. Plus one."

The guard checked his tablet and stepped aside. The heavy metal door swung open.

They walked in. The air was thick, humid, bass thrumming from somewhere deep inside. Archer placed his hand on the small of Tatum's back, steadying her, guiding her toward the entrance. The contact sent heat through him. Even through the fabric, he could feel the warmth of her skin, the tension in her body.

Another guard met them at a second door. A woman in leather who looked Tatum over with professional interest.

"Mr. Gray. Welcome back." Her eyes slid to Tatum. "First time?"

"Yes," Tatum said, lifting her chin.

The woman smiled. "House rules. Consent is everything. No means no. If you see something you're not comfortable with, walk away. Don't judge, don't stare, don't interfere. Clear?"

"Clear," Tatum said with a nod.

"Enjoy yourselves."

The door opened, and the bass hit them like a physical force.

Archer had been here before, too many times, for too many reasons, none of them pleasure. But bringing Tatum here felt different. Wrong. Like he was exposing her to something she shouldn't have to see.

Except she didn't look shocked. She looked focused.

The club was packed. Bodies on the dance floor. Leather, latex, mesh, glitter. Someone walked past with their hair sculpted into the shape of a ship, and Archer felt Tatum's body shake slightly against his hand.

Was she laughing?

His hand tightened on her back. "You okay?"

"Fine," she said, but blood pulsed visibly at the base of her throat, thrumming faster than the bass beat of whatever hip-hop song was blaring.

"Lebowitz is usually in the VIP section," he said, leaning close so she could hear him over the music. "Let me find him and we'll⁠—"

"There." Tatum tipped her chin toward the back corner.

Archer followed her gaze. Timothy Lebowitz sat near the back, flanked by two men in expensive suits. They were laughing, but Lebowitz looked tense. Nervous.

"How did you—" He turned to look at her fully and understanding landed on him like cold water. "You lied to the woman at the front. You've been here before."

"Several times."

His jaw clenched. "Alone?"

"Yes."

"Staking out Lebowitz."

"Yes," she said simply.

Rage flared hot in his chest. She'd been here. Alone. In a place like this. Without backup, without protection, without anyone knowing where she was. She could have been hurt. Killed. Taken. He bit back the lecture forming on his tongue. Now wasn't the time. But they were absolutely going to talk about this later.

They moved toward the corner and he realized she was leading. She knew this space. Knew the sight lines, the best positions. She navigated the crowd with the confidence of someone who'd done this before. How many times had she been here? He didn't want to think about it.

A few people approached, curiosity in their eyes. Tatum shook her head once and they backed off immediately. She knew the rules. Knew how to handle herself. It should have reassured him.

It didn't.