Page 113 of His Fury

It worked. I was happy. They were happy. Life continued.

Until Isla.

With glossy brunette locks, wide eyes, and pout-perfect lips that begged for my cock, she’d turned everything upside down.

I was pulling into the underground garage of Elixir when I laughed.

I thought she was giving up everything to be with me, and Rye was worried I’d given upmeto be with her. When in reality, we were just two people who loved each other.

I knew I had painted a huge target on my back and said “Come take a shot.” Now, I needed to remind them, every night, every day, every fucking moment, that I was exactly the same bastard they knew.

And it started tonight.

They wanted to fuck with me?

Well, come on, fuckers. I’m here, and I’m waiting for you.

I bypassed the lower-level club and walked to the main floor of Elixir. I spoke with the staff, checked in with the bouncers, and sensed Rye’s shadow halfway through my rounds without acknowledging him.

It felt right. Routine.

Control.

The VIP booths were lively; three out of eight had far too much flesh on display. As I always did, I checked with the girls serving to ensure they were comfortable working the booths. Some nights, you simply didn’t want to witness a train being run on a girl while you served shots.

The girls were fine. They confirmed that all the girls involved were there willingly, just as my guys had, and Rye would have completed all the checks before the booths were even booked.

We were heading back down to the main floor when Rye chuckled low. “Fuck me, you got a girl at home, and you’re suddenly blushing like a virgin.”

“I’m not blushing,” I told him honestly. “I’m fucking wincing in sympathy. Did you see the size of his dick? That girl is never walking out of here tonight without crutches, at least.”

Rye laughed out loud, drawing attention to us both. I knew his laugh was louder than normal but not too loud. He brought attention to us without being obvious about it. I saw the glances, the hushed conversations behind the palms of hands as people watched.

Let them.

This was what they came to see.

We were heading out of the main floor when I heard the laugh.

Soft. Feminine. Familiar.

I slowed.

It had been years since I last heard it—but some sounds stuck, especially when they were accompanied by bare skin and sharpened smiles.

Rye spoke quietly. “You want me to walk her out?”

“No,” I said. “We don’t need the scene, and let’s not give her the ammunition.”

She looked over at us and saw that we’d seen her.

I paused to watch her spin her chair and face me fully. Her slender figure was dressed in black, her blonde hair swept high, and her legs were crossed in that calculated way that suggested everything was an invitation and nothing was a guarantee.

She tilted her head to the side, a playful smile dancing on her lips. She beckoned me forward with a finger, her nails painted black and embellished with rhinestones.

“Zayn McCabe,” she purred, her red lips curving like a weapon.

“Sabrina,” I said, kissing her cheek. “Who did I piss off they sent you?”

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