Page 62 of The Viper
“Too patient,” he murmured. “Could be nothing. Could be everything.”
The calm way he said it made the blood drain from my face.
“What do we do?”
“We leave.”
He slid a twenty under the coffee cup and stood. I followed, heart hammering. The bell above the door jingled as we stepped into the heat.
“Act natural,” he said. “Walk, don’t run.”
We cut around the side of the building toward the back lot. I could feel the SUV’s gaze like heat on my skin. My pulse pounded in my throat.
When we reached the car, he opened my door first, scanning the horizon before circling to the driver’s side. Within seconds, we were back on the road, tires spitting gravel.
“Tell me that was nothing,” I said.
“I could,” he said evenly. “But I won’t lie to you.”
I looked out the window, the landscape blurring into streaks of green and blue. “So, what now?”
“Now we go somewhere no one can follow.”
“Dominion Hall?” I guessed.
His jaw tightened. “Maybe.”
We fell silent again. The tension between us stretched tight, a taut line between fear and desire.
Finally I said, “You think this ends if I hide?”
He shook his head. “No. But it ends faster if you don’t make yourself an easy target.”
The way he said it made something ache in my chest—not fear, but the sense that he’d already accepted whatever danger came with me.
We crossed back onto the mainland, the city skyline hazy in the distance. I thought about the house—the glass, the light, the illusion of control—and how quickly it had all turned to threat.
Money couldn’t buy peace. Fame couldn’t buy safety.
But sitting there beside the devastatingly handsome Lucas Dane, I wondered if maybe the only thing that could buy either was trust.
22
LUCAS
The gates of Dominion Hall swung open like they'd been expecting us, smooth and silent, the kind of money that didn't need to announce itself. I pulled the SUV through, watching the iron close behind us in the rearview, and felt something in my chest ease a fraction. Not relief—I didn't do relief, anymore—but the tactical satisfaction of knowing we were behind walls that could withstand an enemy assault.
Lexi was quiet beside me, her hands folded in her lap, gaze fixed on the mansion as it came into view through the tunnel of live oaks. Spanish moss hung like curtains in the fading light, and the structure rose ahead of us—stone and glass and money wrapped in ivy. It looked like it had been there forever, like it would outlast whatever chaos we brought to its doorstep.
"Jesus," she breathed, leaning forward. "This is where you've been staying?"
"If I want," I said, keeping my eyes on the drive.
She turned to look at me, those green eyes sharp even in the shadows. "What is this place?"
I pulled into the circular drive and killed the engine, buying myself a second to figure out what to say. How much to tell her. The truth was too complicated—half-brothers I'd just learned about, a father who'd built an empire in the shadows, billions in assets I still didn't understand. It was too much, too soon.
"It's sort of a second home," I said finally. "For when I'm working."
