Page 11 of The Viper
I set my bourbon down, my body moving before my mind caught up. The crowd parted as I cut through, my eyes locked on the aviator. He was good—smooth, practiced, the kind of predator who could give Iceman fromTop Guna run for his money.
But I was better.
Lexi lifted her glass, the aviator motioning for her to chug it while he raised his own, the bar cheering them on. I reached her just in time, my hand closing over her drink, stopping it an inch from her lips. My arm brushed hers, and a jolt shot through me—electric, sharp, like a live wire. Her eyes snapped to mine, wide with confusion and a flicker of fear.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice low but steady.
“Ms. Montgomery,” I said, leaning close, my tone calm but firm, like I was her security detail. “It’s time to leave.”
She pulled back, regaining her composure. “I don’t know who you are.”
The aviator stood, his smile gone. “Hey, man, back off. You’re ruining the fun.”
I didn’t hesitate. My fist slammed into his sternum, a clean strike that cracked something beneath his ribs. He gasped, folding forward, and the crowd gasped with him as he fell to the floor.
The actress protested, her voice sharp, but I was already moving, my hand on her arm, guiding her toward the door. The bar erupted—phones out, voices rising, chaos swallowing us.
We were halfway down the block before she yanked her arm free, her eyes blazing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I pulled the plastic baggie from my pocket, the one I’d swiped from the aviator in the split second after I hit him. My sleight of hand was better than his. “The prick spiked your drink with this,” I said, holding it up.
She stared at it, her face paling. “You’re lying.”
“Believe what you want,” I said, stepping back. “But if you call the cops, tell them to pull the footage from the bar. They’ll see what he did.”
She hesitated, her phone already in her hand, her thumb hovering over the screen. The anger in her eyes softened, replaced by something else—doubt, maybe, or fear.
“Why did you help me?” she asked, her voice almost shy.
I told the truth. “Because I had to.”
Then I turned and walked away, the humid night air wrapping around me. Her face burned in my mind—those eyes, that spark when we touched. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing in Charleston, or why I’d been pulled here. But one thing was clear: Lexi Montgomery wasn’t just a star. She was trouble.
And I’d just stepped knee deep in it.
5
LEXI
Iknew sneaking out was reckless.
I’d known it when I tugged a baseball cap low and whispered to Hannah’s sleeping form that I’d “just be gone an hour.”
I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do something stupid in Charleston. And yet here I was, heart pounding like I was seventeen again sneaking past curfew.
I’d told myself I just wanted air. Normalcy. Maybe a drink somewhere nobody knew my name.
But really, I wanted to feel something. Anything.
The house had been too quiet. Too clean. My skin itched with the weight of my own self-control. I’d spent the day being handled and lit and told when to breathe. Now, I wanted to misbehave.
I’d found Pelicangate online, some local bar I’d seen mentioned in an article about hidden Charleston gems. Supposedly, it was where regular people went. The kind of place where I could disappear for a while.
So, I had.
The bartender had been kind, chatty in that Southern way that made you feel seen but not studied. I’d ordered a drink, something simple, and started to relax.
And then it had all gone sideways.
