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Philip: Is something wrong, sir?
Before I could respond, something brushed against my sleeve. Snapping my gaze around, I only saw party goers. No one stuck out. But that touch had been more than accidental. It was probing—going for the region where I concealed my gun.
I slid my phone into the inner pocket of my suit jacket. Shoving through the mass, I moved onto the dance floor. A sparkly dress stole my attention, and a distracting thought flitted through my mind. Talia would look damn good in a skimpy little number like that.I doubt she’s ever been clubbing.The way her father raised her, she’d not had the freedoms or carefree life others her age had. Maybe I could make her an offer to go dancing after this hell was over. It could help with the healing process to do something normal—
A fiery pain sliced through my upper arm.
I whirled around, catching a man in a non-descript, black button-up trying to hide a blade.
I surged forward. He was quick to flip the blade and jab. I dodged, catching his wrist. A quick glance and a well-timed flash of light showed the blade was plastic. It was no longer than my middle finger but wicked sharp.
Unnoticed by the other dancers, we exchanged a series of tactical blows. The blade went flying, and then I struck in earnest.
My attacker swerved, and I kicked out. I didn’t move quickly enough. The blow caught me in the thigh. I roared, the volume still hidden under the thumping noise considered to be music. The bastard was trying to escape!
While it meant leaning into another strike, which fell full on my kidneys, I grappled him. We locked in a violent hold, but a quick slip of my hand gave me room to dislocate his shoulder. He sagged, face paling.Yeah, that’s right, fucker. You’re not making it out of here alive.
Holding him tightly, I snared my attacker. I breathed through my teeth, letting my fury override the pain, and moved through the crowd, dragging him with me. At the side of the stage, James stood with several security personnel.
The club owner arched a brow when he saw me. I snarled at him, pushing the scum toward the bulky security guards. Black hired only the best to be his bouncers, using the same supplier I did.
“You’ve got a bit of a security leak, Black,” I shouted, fisting my hands at my sides.
“You had it under control.” James jerked his chin to where I was bleeding. “Getting rusty, Drakos. Or were you preoccupied?”
I bared my teeth and pushed into the area behind the stage. The bouncers dragged the squirming, would-be assassin between them. Opening a side door, James led us out of the thriving club space. The silence of the back hall beckoned, and when the sound-proofed door closed, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Who is he? Friend of yours?” James tipped up the man’s chin.
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to find out for me.”
“Don’t want to get your hands dirty?”
No, not with this.“There’s a reason your last name is Black.”
“I thought Drakos meant dragon in your language,” the club owner mused, the closest thing to a smile playing at the edge of his lips.
“I’ve overstayed my welcome. And clearly there’s an active threat. I’m going to collect my bride and take her home, where I can oversee the safety of what family I have left.” I shrugged out of my jacket and took the terry cloth tea towel that one of the guards held out to me, not questioning where he brought it from. Probably the bar supply closet. It would also work well for a blindfold.
“Go back to your lair, dragon. Hunker down and protect your horde while the rest of us do the dirty work.” With that, James nodded to his men, who dragged the struggling assassin away. The ripe stench of urine wafted in their wake.
