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Composing myself before she sees my shock is a struggle.
Too bad for me Layla’s got the sharp eyes of a fucking eagle and she sees everything I want to hide. “You know something about it. Don’t you?”
I weigh my options, weigh what to tell her. “Docks on Markee is an old place where Broderick used to do business,” I reply. “He shut it down because the police got too close, tightening their traps for him in hopes of catching him in the act. They never did.”
“Those were the days before he had the money to buy them off,” Layla guesses.
I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Times change. The Syndicate adapts.” I blow out a breath. “And I should not be telling you any of this.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me now.” She slides her hand along my thigh and rather than chastise her, I let her touch.
As though it makes up for fucking her when she was checked out.
“Let me guess. You want to go there,” I say, somehow managing to sound pissed off. “Didn’t you get what you wanted from Whip?”
“I did, but not enough to close my case,” she replies. “I suppose you have something better to do with your night. Marks to hunt down and maim and whatnot. Women to thrust into sin. Or does it not count if you’re offstage, in the dark?”
I barely look at her. “You have my complete attention, sweetheart. I’m at your disposal until you’re sick of using me.” She doesn’t need to know I’m on the hunt for the same man. “As hard as it is for you to believe.”
Do I want to head down to the docks at the edge of Empire Bay? Fuck no, I do not.
What I want to do is take Layla back to her place, or mine, and continue what we started tonight.
I know better than to get close. Nothing lasts. Sex means nothing.
Yet somehow her jealousy of Jade surprised me.
Unfortunately, she’d rather pistol whip me than fuck me again, and our night is far from over. Playtime is done and now we’ve got to get back to business. The whole reason that brought us together in the first place.
Foot on the brake, I stop at a stop sign and wait for her to give the word. Are we heading to Docks on Markee or not?
Layla considers everything, her gaze distant and her fingers tapping on her knee. She’s not the same woman I saw onstage, not the same one I had the pleasure of feeling from the inside. Yet she’s so much more than I bargained for when I first saw her in the crowd of the Velvet Underground. Judging me and damning me with her brown eyes.
“Drive,” she barks out, dark brows drawn together. “It might be nice to check the place out with someone who knows it intimately.”
I chuckle, grinning once before I hide the expression from her. “Your wish is my command.”
“And being cute is not a good look on you.”
She tugs the zipper of her jacket higher.
“You’re the only one who gets to see this side of me, baby.”
“You’re still a jerk.”
I shoot her a sly look. “A jerk I might be, but I’m a jerk who owes you an orgasm or five. Don’t I?”
She shakes her head. “Any excuse you find to touch me again, Gabriel…” But she’s hiding a hint of a smile while she fiddles with the zipper. “Just focus on the road.”
Being back at Markee isn’t going to be pleasant or easy for me. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, a battle waging inside of me. How to proceed and what to tell her. Weighting what I need her to think about me versus how I want her to see me.
Fuck.
I slam on the brakes hard enough to have Layla grinding against her seatbelt. “What the shit, Blackwell?”
“I want you to know—” I begin, then stop.
She glances at me sourly. “What now?”
