Page 50 of Hexed
Fisher’s confidence deflates, and he fidgets, shifting on his feet. “It’s all good.”
“Nah, see…where I come from, we introduce ourselves properly.” I slide out of the booth until I’m towering over him and place my hand on his shoulder, squeezing until he flinches. “I apologize I haven’t done that. Now, take me to Venesa, or I’ll make sure you know exactly who I am. You get me?”
Fisher’s nostrils flare, and he grits his teeth as he jerks his head up and down in a short stiff movement. “She’s downstairs.”
I release his shoulder and wave my arm. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
Scotty shakes his head and laughs, straightening up and slapping Fisher on the back. “You’ll get used to E’s sweet nothings. It’s how he got his nickname, you know? He likes to kiss you a bit before he fucks ya.”
We follow Fisher around the tables scattered throughout the room, past the bar and the main stage, and into a corridor that’s lined with wooden walls. It’s dark and narrow and smells like stale air, and I assume it’s where the offices and storage areas are. Maybe the coolers too.
Fisher doesn’t stop until we’re at the back of the building, the exit sign casting a dim red glow across the darkened hallway. There’s a small spiral staircase to the left of us that winds up to a door.
“I thought you said she was downstairs.”
“She is,” Fisher replies. He presses on one of the wooden panels lining the wall, and it opens, revealing a staircase leading down and disappearing into the shadows.
Interesting.
I turn to Scotty. “Stay here, and if you don’t hear from me in ten minutes, you know what to do.”
He eyes the basement and slicks his fingers through his dark hair before leaning back, his left foot kicking up and resting against the wall.
Fisher grins. “Nervous?”
I don’t reply.
Our footsteps echo off the concrete as we make our way down the stairs, and then we’re in a large hallway, closed rooms lining each side. We pass by all of them, heading straight to the back, where a large steel door set in the wall. Fisher knocks twice, and someone slides a small panel open, their eyes peering out before they unlock it from the other side.
When we walk into the space, it’s like we’ve been transported into another world.
The walls are a deep-brown wood, with coffered ceilings and crystal chandeliers drench the room in a soft yellow glow. There’s a bar that lines the far side with high-end liquors on glass shelving against a mirror backdrop, and gambling tables are interspersed throughout with burgundy chairs and felt tabletops, dealers perched behind every single one.
It’s busy, much busier than upstairs, with groups of people huddled around the tables. Some are in suits, others in button-downs with rolled-up sleeves, and all of them are doing one thing.
Gambling.
My eyes coast over the area, taking inventory.
“There’s our girl.” Fisher nods toward the back of the room.
My eyes zoom in on where he’s gesturing, finding Venesa immediately, and when I do, I almost wish I hadn’t. She’s sitting at the far table, sidled up next to a young guy in a black polo, wearing sunglasses like a douchebag. She’s changed since I saw her, those casual cutoff shorts that stuck to her ass like a second skin gone, but she’s in something just as devastating: a thin black silk dress that flows to her ankles. Her legs are crossed,and the fabric is split, just like it was the first time I met her, framing the smooth skin of her thigh.
An irrational anger rips through my chest, as I realize she’s down here fucking around with other men instead of upstairs with me.
I don’t appreciate how the entire Kingston family thinks it’s okay to waste my time.
Flat-screen TVs line the walls, the buzz of a fight ringing from their speakers and into my ears, but I don’t pay attention to it, and as soon as Venesa throws her head back and laughs, every man turnstheirattention toward her too. She reaches out and grasps the forearm of the guy sitting next to her. And I’ve had just about enough of being ignored.
“You can go,” I dismiss Fisher.
Fisher inhales, his eyes bouncing back and forth between where Venesa sits and where I am before he acquiesces and leaves, the way I knew he would. He may walk around here like he’s a big dog, but I can spot a coward a mile away.
There’s an empty chair perched against the far wall, directly in front of where Venesa’s sitting, and I take my time crossing the room toward it.
I brushjustbehind her, so close that her hair rustles as I walk by. Her body stiffens, but she doesn’t look at me.
When I reach the wall, I unbutton my suit jacket and then take it off entirely, placing it on the back of the chair, going for slow and relaxed, like I don’t have a care in the world.
