Page 40 of Marked
Great going asshole. Great going.
But who can fucking blame her?
The gods-damn apartment was trash, something I didn’t notice when I found her two blocks over. I knew the address. Fucking knew itanddismissed it after I scented those assholes on the wind when they came after her.
That damn area of town is bad, but I didn’t know ... Even before the obvious shake down of her things, the place had a stale, musty odor. Like mold. The walls were stained yellow from cigarette smoke and even the cheap coat of paint couldn’t hide it completely.
But that place did not scream heiress to a slum-dog millionaire.
It just doesn’t make sense. None of it does.
And not having answers is only making my temper worse. Her tears were too real. Too raw.
Could we be wrong? Is she a victim after all?
Underground thumps with life around us. Any other day, it would be normal. Easy. Now it’s annoying. Like the place doesn’t deserve to be in good standing when so much chaos has overtaken my world.
The main dance floor is packed, and the Pit overflows with chatter, music, and smoke. Across the way, the archway for the dining area fractures with red light and gong music.
Larry the Druid is about halfway through some new material from the sounds of things. The steady stream of guffaws and giggles should be infectious. Now I consider pulling the fire alarm for some peace and quiet.
“What do you want to do first?” I ask, voice louder than normal to be heard over the din.
Lilah peers back at me, blue eyes huge in her pretty face. Tonight, she is all college girl innocence in the face, and naughty, goth cheerleader below. I continue to keep my eyes fixed on her sharp collarbones. Anything to stop them from straying to those succulent full lips or her full breasts in her tank top.
“What do you suggest?” she asks.
I wrench my gaze away from her body with force of will alone. My hands fists. “How about a drink?”
She nods, still wide-eyed.
I press a hand to the small of her back and urge her to the VIP section. Prisma raises a brow at my apparent ‘guest’, but lifts the rope for us to pass. I gesture Lilah to an empty booth in the corner and head to the bar.
Pulling my cell as I go, I thumb a quick message to T.
“Hey, Cap. Where’s your boys?” Davin stacks glasses at the edge of the polished counter as I near, his elliptical gaze tracking behind me to the gorgeous brunette now in the corner.
“Off,” I grumble as I hit send. Or, to everyone else they are. In reality, T will be tracking down the authenticity of the lease paperwork in Lilah’s name, and Gage will be on scout duty.
At this point, after Lilah’s apartment from Hell, I don’t know what to fucking believe. And wanting Lilah is making me biased. It’s clouding my fucking senses.
We need a new lead. And I need away from Lilah before I do something stupid.
“The usual?” Davin asks.
“Yeah.”
He loads up a tray with Macallan and two glasses. As an afterthought, I ask for two sodas too.
Even as a bartender, Lilah may not need or want to drink as much as I do.
She looks up as I near, small hands fiddling with a napkin like she’s nervous. Her icy blue eyes trail from the top of my head to my steel-toe boots in appreciation. My gut flips at the notion.
I shut it down. Fast. “Didn’t know what you drink,” I say, setting the tray down.
She pours up two shots before knocking back hers like a pro. I gape.
Her lips turn upward as she dances a little in place. “Bartender. Remember?” I take my shot and set the glass down for another. “It’s been forever since I came to a club just to have fun,” she calls over the music.
