Page 26 of The Demons We Hide

“I didn’t say I was from Silverwood.” Despite his words, his grin widens. “But you’re right, I am, and like I said earlier, it’s been a while.”

“And you’re back to meet someone…” I let the curiosity roll off my tongue as I examine him more closely now. The man sets his glass down and unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling up the fabric to reveal more tattoos beneath. They cover him from wrist to elbow and disappear further beneath the clothes.

“I am,” he agrees.

“Why?”

He picks his drink back up. “Some recent information has been given to me and I thought I’d come down and check it out.”

“You didn’t bring your wife?”

My question sparks a laugh from him. “Unfortunately, she seems to be the only person able to keep our daughter from world domination,” he answers, chuckling, the wry amusement carving his features, deepening the lines of his face. “As much as I’d love her to be with me at all times, trying to pry her away from our kid is like trying to drag steak out of a wolf’s mouth. She'd cut me up alive if I suggested leaving our baby girl behind.”

A fair point. At that moment, three figures appear in the entranceway of the club, drawing my gaze. I suck in a breath and straighten.They’re here.

The man seems to realize my sudden preoccupation and turns to spy the newcomers. Mads sees them as well and casts me an “oh, shit” look before she tries to make her way over to them, hurrying as fast as her short legs can carry her. She manages to step in front of them before they can step down into the main part of the club and with her back to us, she starts to talk.

I can’t hear what she says with the distance between us, but I know by the shadowed looks in their eyes that it’s not working.

“Friends of yours?” the man at my side asks.

Glancing back to him, I freeze. His glass has been lowered back to the table and his previously relaxed posture has been replaced with the stance of a man expecting a fight. I open my mouth to excuse myself to deal with them, but it’s too late. A shadow falls over the table and the man’s head tilts back as all three of the Scorpion Kings come to stand at the edge of our little booth.

“Mind if we join you?” Nolan’s expression is shuttered and he doesn’t wait for an answer as he slides onto the lounge next to me, forcing me to scoot away.

“Not at all,” the man states, but to my shock he rises from his seat and pulls out a wallet from his back pocket. Slipping out several hundred-dollar bills—more than enough to cover the cost of the bottle I’d ordered for him—he drops them onto the tabletop. “I was just leaving.”

“Smart decision,” Nolan agrees.

“Wait!” I jerk to my feet, stopping only when Gio steps up next to the table and Nolan’s hand curves around my wrist. “I thought you were here to meet someone?”

The man stares at the three guys, scanning them like he’s trained to see beyond their angry looks and jeans and t-shirts. When he gets to Lex, who stands in the area just outside of the table’s section, he pauses.

“Yes,” the stranger murmurs, “and thanks to you, sweetheart, I have.”

“What—”

No sooner has the one word left my lips than the man moves around the table and holds out a hand to Lex. “Alexio Medicci?”

Lex doesn’t take his hand, but instead scowls at the man. “Who are you?” he demands.

The stranger keeps his arm up for a moment longer, but when it becomes clear that Lex has no intention of conforming to the social norm, he finally drops it and rubs a tattooed hand over his short-shaven head of dark hair.

“My name is Mitchell Vikson,” he says, watching Lex as if he half expects him to leap at him. All around us I can feel the hosts’ and their own guests’ eyes.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.This is not good. I promised Ma-Ri that I wouldn’t make her regret letting me take a hosting shift.

Lex doesn’t look at me as he steps forward until he and the man—Mitchell Vikson—are nearly chest to chest. Now that they’re so close, I’m starting to see the similarities between them. Though the stranger’s hair is cut short and Lex’s is longer, cut beneath his ears, the hair color is the same. So, too, are their builds—stocky, broad, and built like the linebacker that Lex is on Silverwood High’s team.

“Tell me something,Vikson,” Lex murmurs, spitting the man’s last name like a curse. He drops his tone even further, so that none of our onlookers can hear him, but I do. I hear him and a shiver of unease skates down my spine at the dangerous note to his words. “How the fuck do you know my name and what are you doing here with my girl?”

Mitchell Vikson’s eyes widen and he glances back at me, seeming surprised by this information. Then his mouth curves upward. “That’s…” he begins. “Rather ironic.”

“What is?” Gio steps up next to Lex, glaring daggers at the man.

“I had no clue she was your girlfriend,” Vikson states, “but if you’re worried about if I would’ve touched her, you don’t need to. She’s far too young for me, and I’m married.” He holds up his hand with the glint of a silver band around his ring finger shining under the lowlights of the club.

“Doesn’t stop most men,” Nolan says from where he’s still sitting. His fingers remain a tight shackle around my wrist, keeping me bound to him.

“I’m not most men.” Vikson lowers his hand and then cracks his neck to the side. “As for how I know your name,” he directs his next words back to Lex. “It’s because I received a file on you last week. Alexio Medicci, son of Sancho Medicci.”

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