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“I heard it!”

“Cartilage.” He tilts his head. “Get your bag, Dylan. Or I’ll get it for you, and then I’ll carry you out of here over my shoulder in front of everybody.”

My mouth falls open. “You would not.”

He doesn’t answer. He just waits.

He would. I know he would. And the fact that my pussy just clenched at the thought of this man throwing me over his shoulder in front of the whole club? That’s between me and Jesus.

I get my bag.

* * *

It’s a black Escalade, and the blond giant from the rope is driving. Sasha calls him Misha. Misha nods at me in the rearview mirror like we go way back. There’s a dark partition between the front and back seats, and Sasha presses a button and it slides up, slow, till it’s just us.

I pull out my phone to text Tasha where I am, ‘cause I might be crazy, but I’m not stupid.

He takes it right out of my hand.

“Excuse you!”

He looks at the screen. At my half-typed text. girl the tip guy is

He hands it back.

“Finish it,” he says. “Tell her you’re at the Beverly Wilshire with Sasha Maksimov. Tell her you’ll be home tomorrow.”

I stare at him. “Tomorrow?”

“Send it.”

I send it. Tasha texts back in two seconds flat.

WHAT. WHAT THE FUCK. ARE YOU SAFE???

is he fine

is it the 2 THOUSAND DOLLAR MAN

I turn my phone face down in my lap.

We’re on Sunset. The lights go by in red and gold. He’s sitting with his legs spread wide, taking up most of the back seat, and his knee’s pressed against mine. Just his knee. And I’m sweating like I’m in church in August.

“I’m gonna ask you something,” he says.

“Can I stop you?”

“No.”

“Then I guess.”

He turns his head and looks at me. “Have you ever been with a man?”

My whole body goes hot. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“That is none of your business!”