Page 7 of The Games We Play

I step forward, reaching to cup her face. She steps forward, and for a moment I think she’s doing the same—until her hands land on top of each side of my shoulders and she kicks her knee up directly between my legs, nailing me in the balls.

“Fuck,” I grunt out as my teeth grind together. I fall to my knees as I buckle to the ground. I was not fucking ready for that. My eyes squeeze shut for a moment as I curse through the pain bursting through every cell in my body.

Slowly, I open my eyes, but my vision is distorted, blurred beyond any recognition. I push myself up off the floor, just to stumble down again. Jesus, she couldn’t have centered that more perfectly.

I finally get to my feet and peer down the hallway. She’salready through the black curtain barrier, and as I run toward it, I hear the distant moans of the people inside the voyeur rooms. They are much louder than they were earlier, but they’re easy to ignore this time with my new objective. I crane my neck over the crowd to see a row of feathers turning the corner into the main lobby area.

I push my way through the horde of people. It’s so much more crowded now, and I suddenly hate my size. 6’2, broad shouldered, and wide framed is great for security. Not great when chasing a petite, five foot nothing, professional ball kicker.

Rounding the corner, I peer over at the bar, then scan the room as I continue pacing toward the entrance. I don’t see her anywhere, and when I face forward, I run straight into Hudson, who’s grabbing me by the shoulders. He pulls me back, trying to get my attention, but it’s nowhere other than surveying the room, looking for her.

“Did you see her?” I snap.

“Who?”

“Mi…the woman—the woman in white.”

“Shay,” he calls me by my nickname with concern. “What’s going on, man?”

“Did she pass through here?” I shout, staring directly at him now. I’m fucking serious. Why doesn’t he see how fucking serious this is? Aren’t best friends supposed to be able to read you better?

“Yes, she was heading to the front door, I think she left.” Now he tells me. For being a professional baseball catcher, he’s pretty fucking terrible at actuallycatchingthings.

“Shit.” I push him aside and run toward the front, circling around the waterfall barrier that separates the lobby from the club, and push through the double doors.

It’s dark out, but the exterior lights are brighter than the interior of the club, and I’m momentarily blinded as my eyes adjust.The line is longer now, the protestors are rowdier, and there are more police officers.

I realize I’ve missed out on everything happening at the club by her distraction, but I really don’t give a shit. My eyes roam the parking lot, the mob of people, the paparazzi, and nothing.

“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck!” Shouting louder this time.

Stepping back I look through the entrance doors and see a couple checking in, showing their IDs. I glance back out to the crowd, and freeze.

She had to show her ID to get in.

I storm back inside and wave off the guy sitting at the computer he’s not using.

With urgency, he stands and removes himself, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.

I observe the other girl who is checking in the couple. She scans the ID and a copy appears on her screen.

I can’t help but internally grin recalling this suggestion that I made to Ember’s team. Because of that, they require ID verification of members, and I’m internally patting myself on the back for it.

I cycle through the members that have all checked in, aggressively hitting the button as I skim over each ID that pops up. My blood pressure rises over the never ending review. ID after ID comes through, but none of them are her.

“If I don’t fucking find her, I swear—” Then I freeze. My breath is quite literally ripped from my body.

Luscious, black hair, a bright, diamond-like smile and those gorgeous, mysterious, dark eyes stare back at me.

Relief blankets me until I see her name.

Naomi Masumi.

I never had her last name, so searching forMimiwas literally impossible. I tried every avenue when I gained any resource todo so, and still nothing. But now it all makes sense, because I never even knew her legal name.

Not even her real fucking first name.

“Naomi Masumi,” I whisper to myself as I inspect her ID.

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