Page 116 of Kneeling to Candy

“Can you make out any of the attendees?” Chase asks through the comms.

“Negative,” Butch murmurs at a barely audible level.

There’s cursing over the comms before Atlas brings order to the group. “Chase, Gauge, Punk, and I will take out the windows when the time arrives. We’ll uncover these fuckers.”

Piero helps me into my seat, taking the one beside mine as a small group of servers comes bustling in with a mini spread to feed us before taking our drink orders.

“Champagne for the lady. Whiskey neat for me,” the don says, ordering for the two of us. Anything to prevent me from speaking.

Dabbing the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, Duffy asks, “Is the room to your liking?”

“It’s fine,” Piero says in a tired tone, taking the drinks from our server before handing me mine. Drinking seems like an unwise idea, given the circumstances we’re in. Yet it’s expected. I take a dainty sip, avoiding looking directly at anyone.

Duffy practically preens over Piero’s comment, like it’s the best compliment he’s received in his life. Hell, it may be. “Wonderful. We want all our guests comfortable.”

Aside from those being auctioned.

As Duffy explains the buttons Piero would need to use to place his bid, the door to our suite opens, flooding the space with light.

The air shifts, a cold draft creeps over my skin. The shadow of a man can be seen on the wall, growing bigger the closer he comes.

My stomach rises to my throat as I hear the familiar heavy Irish accent of the man I fear most.

“Leslie. So good to see you again, mo pheata.”

CHAPTER FORTY

CANDY

For the eight days leading up to this mission, I was drilled on how to physically defend myself, what to do if Duffy confronted me, and what to do when our team busted the show.

None of my training prepared me for facing him.

Memories of my past at this man’s mercy threaten to flood my mind, making my pulse race.

The slithering unease his touch would invoke on my skin as his fingers crept over my flesh. The bite of pain across my ass from whatever choice of weapon he used on my body. His low, maniacal laugh ringing in my ears as he would violate my body.

No. I can’t afford to sink back into my dark memories. Not while he’s close to me—never again.

Forcing the past to stay in the past, I control my breathing. In and out. Showing any sign of weakness could be used against me, something I refuse to allow.

He can’t hurt me now. Even if he’s feet away, he can’t touch me. Butch won’t let him near me. The guys won’t let anything happen to me.

My eyes flicker to my biker in the room’s corner. Butch’s hazel eyes zero in on the bastard standing directly behind my seat. His gaze sweeps to me, questioning. Our eyes connect, communicating in our special, silent way. Whatever he sees in my face tells him everything he needs to know. Butch’s face darkens, his jaw clenched tightly. His long hands curl into tight fists at his side, ready to do damage.

As much as I want Butch to unleash on the man behind me, there’s too much at stake. The mission comes first. We’ll deal with him after—together.

Piero turns in his seat, examining the man who’s barged into our private room with a cynical scowl while his bodyguards move closer to protect their boss. Ziggy’s eyes flint between Butch and the man behind me, while his hand goes to his hip, where his gun is holstered. And Tank cocks his head to the side, cracking his neck. They all sense this man is bad news.

They’re not wrong.

I need to deescalate the situation quickly before we blow our cover.

As I attempt to appear unruffled, I take another sip of my champagne before setting it down. Taking my sweet ass time as I give myself an internal pep talk, I slowly rise from my seat and turn to face the devil.

“Hello, Cú Sidhe.”

The name hangs in the air, sinking into everyone’s awareness of who we’re dealing with before our team on the outside breaks out into another string of curses.

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