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I don’t give a fuck if I win or not. I’m just hoping that shifting through the gears knocks out the goddamn Beast. Turns out, making the turns requires its own laser focus. I’m halfway through my sixth lap when I realize the animal in my head is down for the count.
I leave Wolf and Dubois in the dust. Best and I cross the finish line at virtually the same time. I make a note to install a camera for close finishes. And then I lead the Ring over to the tent, where a full bar and enough food for an army puts a cap on the night.
25
ALIX
* * *
“I’m heading out,” Trap says.
I jump like a jackrabbit, completely surprised by his presence. I came to my gallery right after breakfast, and I’ve long since lost track of time. I’ve spent the past two weeks doing my best not to think about where Trap’s going tonight. It turned out, what I really needed for distraction was box after box of glossy-paged coffee-table art books.
“Sorry,” Trap says. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“I started looking at that Van Gogh catalog, and that made me think about the new Cezanne books that arrived last week, but I got distracted by these Monet waterlilies…” I could study those paintings for hours.
Or I could study Trap.
He’s dressed all in black—black suit, black shirt, black silk tie. He must have showered and shaved right before he came over to the warehouse; I can smell his rosemary shampoo. His hair is a little long, just the way I love it, and something aches so hard in my chest I have to blink.
“For you,” he says, holding out a white plastic bag.
“What is it?”
“Something to keep you busy while I’m gone.”
I peer inside like there might be something living in there. I’m surprised to see dozens of candy bars—orange and brown and silver wrappings, the full-size ones that would have made little-girl me go crazy on Halloween.
“Trick or treat,” he says, in response to my laugh.
“What if I choose trick instead?”
A light flares in his eyes, exactly the way I knew it would.
I shouldn’t tempt him. He needs to meet his driver in the parking lot. He needs to get up to Brooklyn, to Kynk. He needs to take care of Jonas and Ansel Herzog before they come up with some new way to ruin our lives.
We’ve talked about it, all the gritty details. He made me say out loud that I didn’t mind his going back to the club. I know he’ll wear a black silk Lone Ranger mask. He’ll leave his tie and shirt and jacket in the Green Room while he keeps his pants on, with knock-out drugs in his pocket. He’ll prowl through the crowd, ignoring propositions from women and men alike, until he finds his prey in the private room Gage Rider promised.
I trust Trap.
With my life, I trust him.
But there are a million things that can go wrong, from a crash on the freeway to the Herzogs fighting back. There’s a very real chance Trap won’t return to the freeport.
And there’s no way I can go to the club with him. The thought of entering Kynk is enough to make my pulse rate double. All I have to do is close my eyes, and I can see Jonas and Ansel, I can hear their commands, I can feel their cane slicing across my bare breasts…
Even if I manage to master my terror, I can’t be there. My presence would just distract him. He’d have to worry about my safety, on top of seeking out the brothers.
But words tear from my throat before I can smother them. “Don’t go.”
“Alix…” Trap says, and my name sounds like shredded tire retreads scattered across a freeway.
“We took care of Carver. Jonas and Ansel can’t hurt us now. Us or the Diamond Ring. You don’t have to do this. You can just stay home.” I feel even more desperate than I sound.
Trap shakes his head. “You don’t let rabid dogs roam the streets, just because you have a lock on your door.”
“Butyoudon’t have to be the one to hunt them down.”
