Page 38 of Dangerous Pursuit
We join the applause as if nothing ever happened. I think it's safe to say we thoroughly enjoyed the show after all.
Chapter Thirteen
Liam
THE CLUB'S NEON sign hums above me, casting a lurid glow on the pavement. Muscle memory guides my moves as I check the IDs of the group of five, noting they're the last in line.
Putting the velvet rope in place the second they walk past me and into the club, I put one hand on the side of my neck and roll my tense shoulder, tiny bones cracking as I do. Normally, I never over-train to avoid the very sensations currently pulsating through my exhausted body, but this week's been different.
It's been days since I've seen Xander, days filled with the kind of quiet that makes you realize how loud your life usually is. I know he's buried in books, cramming for his exams. I respect that grind, so I've been lying low, letting him do his thing. It hasn't exactly been easy, but I've managed a week. I can manage another. And then—
A shadow sidles up to my side, breaking my train of thought.
A stranger. Slicked-back hair and a hungry gaze make their way closer until he's standing in front of me. His eyes rake over me like he's got X-ray vision, seeing right through the exterior. He's got that cocky tilt to his grin, the kind that says he's used to getting what he wants.
"You must get bored just standing here all night," the guy purrs, leaning in a little too close for casual conversation.
I let out a low chuckle. "You'd be surprised."
His eyelashes flutter like he's sending Morse code forI'm willing. He leans in closer, the smell of his dollar-store cologne trying to invade my space.
And as if that wasn't clear enough already, he opens his mouth again, voice squeaky and somewhat unpleasant. "So, think we could sneak away for a quick one?" Without skipping a beat, he tilts his head back, exposing his neck. "I'm quite flexible."
I laugh, but it comes out hollow. There was a time when that line would've been enough to pique my interest. I'd have sized him up, figured out if he was worth the trouble, and maybe taken him up on that offer.
But not tonight.
His hand reaches out, fingers inching toward my chest with a promise of something I haven't asked for.
Instinctively, I catch his wrist before he makes contact, holding it firm but not tight enough to hurt. His eyes widen with surprise and maybe a hint of excitement.
"You really should ask first—"
Before I can finish my sentence, a familiar presence cuts through the night air. I turn my head and there he is—Xander—standing across the street like he's been photoshopped into the urban sprawl.
Far enough to miss our conversation, but close enough to see the scene. My body freezes as I watch him approach, his stride purposeful, a storm brewing in his eyes.
The stranger's wrist still in my grasp feels like it belongs to someone else's story the second I remember I'm still holding it.
Shit.
I release it abruptly and take a step back. "Scram," I say firmly, nudging my chin toward the street.
The stranger pouts, but retreats, thank fuck, though he doesn't stray far. Instead, he fades into the shadows of the nearest alley, lurking like he's waiting for a second act that's not going to happen.
My focus sharpens as Xander closes the distance between us. His blond hair is a mess of waves tonight, looking like he ran his fingers through it one too many times. The closer he gets, the clearer I see the lines of tension etched around his mouth.
He stops just shy of an arm's reach from me. His eyes lock onto mine, searching, accusing. It's like he's piecing together a puzzle I didn't know we were building.
"Got anything to say?"
I glance over my shoulder at the eavesdropping stranger before stepping closer to Xander. I'm not sure how much he saw. "About?"
His eyes flicker over my shoulder. "Who's that?"
"Umm.. No one."
"Looked like more thanno onefrom where I was standing," he challenges.
