Page 51 of Iron Willed Warrior

Cole coughed. Yeah, I knew what he was thinking. I was giving myself a toothache with all this sugary sweetness. It was so not me.

But thankfully, the head of Stillwater was eating it up. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” Westwick said. “And please, Brianna, call me Garon.”

Cole’s hand tightened possessively on my shoulder.

The lounge had the vibe of an old-school jazz club, with brown leather chairs and low lighting. Our group had winnowed to a half dozen. We started with a round of brandy, which gave me plenty of opportunities to ask Westwick about the liquor and where it came from. A man like him loved nothing more than to prove how sophisticated and intelligent he was. Cole and I both took tiny sips so we’d stay sober.

I couldn’t have asked for a better setup. Alcohol to loosen Westwick up, and dancing to get close. A chance to talk alone even in a crowded room.

Ryker and the other bodyguard, Manning, had appeared, sitting like lumps in boxy suits at another table, but that wasfine. Cole was in the seat next to me, his thigh up against mine.

I just had to be patient. Wait for Westwick to ask to dance with me. I’d baited the hook earlier. Now I had to reel him in.

But then, shockingly, Cole beat him to it.

He held out his hand. “Feel like dancing?”

I paused a moment before realizing what he had in mind. Stoking Westwick’s competitiveness. “Love to.” I took Cole’s hand. Westwick’s eyes followed me as I left. I didn’t see it so much as feel it.

We walked over to the small dance floor where a few couples were swaying to the jazz singer crooning from a small stage. Cole’s hands rested on my hips. Steady and firm. I laced my fingers together behind his neck.

“Good idea,” I said. “Reminding Westwick I’m taken.”

“Figured I could be useful. Even if I still hate this idea.”

“It’ll be worth it in the end.”

Cole hummed. Whether he was skeptical or agreeing, I couldn’t tell. His fingers tapped lightly against my lower back along with the beat.

This was the first time we’d been pressed up against each other like this, chest to chest and belly to belly, since the night we’d kissed. It felt nice. More than nice.

I let the music sink into me. The warmth of Cole’s embrace.

I noticed more couples joining us. Westwick was dancing with Molly just a few feet away, yet they seemed farther than that. Like Cole and I were inside our own bubble. It was tempting to forget where we were. Like Cole kept pulling me to some other place where Stillwater didn’t exist and I could simply enjoy the moment without fear of what came next. How did he do that? And why did I keep responding this way?

I brushed my fingers down the back of Cole’s neck, and he made a sound too low for anyone to hear but me.

The song ended way too soon, and a shadow fell over me. “Mind if I cut in?” Westwick asked. “More fun if we all change up partners, don’t you think?”

Alertness filled me, chasing away the brief calm I’d felt. Cole and I shared a lightning-fast, silent communication.

“I don’t think so, no,” Cole said dismissively.

“Please Cameron?” I turned my widest eyes on him. “You said you were tired of dancing anyway. You wanted to get a drink, right?”

His hands briefly tightened on my waist before he let go. “One dance.” With a scowl at Westwick, Cole stalked toward the bar. But Westwick just smiled as he watched Cole leave.

“I don’t think Cameron is a fan of mine.”

“I’m sorry. He just…doesn’t like me talking to other men sometimes.” I smiled shyly.

“I’m not causing a problem for you, am I?”

“No, it’s okay. Cam will get over it. He usually does.”

Westwick’s touch on my waist was a stark contrast to Cole’s. Cold and clammy through my dress instead of warm. I rested my hands on the man’s shoulders. Swayed with the music. All the time wishing I had a knife I could stick in his back.

But the long strap of my purse rested against my torso, a reminder of what was inside. That virus was all the revenge we needed.

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