Page 158 of Till The Sun Dies (Checkmate 2)

“Jessie?” Our music hasn’t begun yet, since the crowd are still hooting and we haven’t given the green light. “Hey, Jess?” I have to shout over the crowd to get her attention, but when I do, her smile is wiped free.

She rushes the few feet between us and grabs my hand. “You okay?” She knows what she’s done tonight, she knows the games we’re playing and the innocence behind it all. But she doesn’t forget the broken girl from not so long ago. She doesn’t forget how far I fell down. HowhardI fell. “Is this too much, Baby? We can stop it.”

“It’s okay. It’s not the same as the club.”

Smiling and silly just minutes ago, her eyes now turn emotional. “I didn’t think this throughthatfar, I didn’t mean to turn this into something like… ya know?”

“It’s okay.” I pull her in until we stand chest to chest. Wrapping my arms around my sister, I breathe in a little more freedom – ignoring how the crowd goes crazy once again – and exhale another shackle that Graham had me bound by. “I love you, Jessie. I love you so much, you have no clue.”

“I do have a clue.” She pulls back with a wobbling smile. “I do know, because I love you, too. Best friends forever.”

I nod. “And ever. And ever. And ever.”

“You’re okay to do this?”

“Yeah. It’s just a stupid song. It’s not the same.”

Glancing to her left, Jess’ smile amplifies. “And your bodyguard is here. Nothing’s gonna hurt you ever again, Baby. Can’t you just kiss him again and live happily ever after?”

I follow her gaze and stop on Ang’s intense stare. Kane watches too, but Ang’s eyes are a whole other ballgame. His chest is expanded, as though ready for a fight. His jaw ticks, his eyes watch every tiny move I make.

When I stare for an entire minute, he lifts a questioning brow that speaks just as easily as words.

Are you okay?

I nod, but he doesn’t back down. His stare sets my blood on fire, it sends tingles right to my toes and a strange pulse in my underwear. It’s been so long…

Turning back to Jess, I lean in a press a kiss to her cheek – innocent, a sister kissing a sister, but porn worthy to the strange men watching us and shouting their approval. Laughing, I pull back and shake my head. “Kane’s for sure gonna shoot someone tonight.”

“Probably.” Holding her thumb over the on/off button on her microphone, Jess nods. “You ready for this? We can’t lose, so I’m gonna need you to leave your inhibitions in Ang’s pocket for a minute.”

Laughing, I turn away and wave at the guy in charge of the music. “We’re ready. Turn it up.”

Standing at the center of the stage and closing my eyes, I pull in deep breaths and pray I don’t fall on my ass.

Funny, not so long ago, my fears about being on show were entirely different. But now I worry about tripping in my heels and tolerating years of teasing from my future brother-in-law.

The deep bass of Britney Spears’Slave 4 Uslams through the bar and forces my heart into overdrive. The crowd’s yells turn feral when they realize what we’ve chosen, but ignoring them, I’m transported back to high school – back to when Jess, Britt, Kari, and I choreographed our own dance to this song. It was forever ago, a bunch of silly teens with nothing better to do during winter break – we stayed holed up in our bedrooms, screwing around and playing this song so many times, I won’t ever forget a single word.

I had an amazing upbringing, amazing family, and the best friends anyone could ask for, and it saddens me Graham almost broke that. He took me away from them until I was so sure they hated me.

I feel Jess prowl the stage behind me, around me; she slides her hand over my back, around my hip, and sets the bar on fire.

Opening my eyes and smiling, I see her first, I see her grin and the trouble in her eyes as she brings her mic up and starts singing without me, then my eyes meet Ang’s and a lance of electricity slashes through my chest.

He knows this song. He knows this routine.

As if we didn’t perform it for our families a billion times, but back then, Jess didn’t hump my leg or slide her hand over my chest. Back then, we weren’t trying to turn anyone on.

I jump when Jess circles around my back and slaps my ass, scoot forward a foot, and just as quickly scramble back when dudes start flashing dollar bills like this is a strip club.

Watching Ang, I bring my mic up and join in when Jess reaches the first chorus, and when the timing is right and we add our moves, when we thrust our hips and men get a little overexcited, Ang stands from his stool. Men try to get closer to us, drunk dudes who think we’re dancing for them, but I don’t panic.

Ang’s silver eyes watch every single move I make. They anchor me to his safety. They slide over my chest, my ribs, my belly, as much a physical caress as Jess’ hands.

On show and surrounded by men, I focus on singing for Ang, relief swamping my body at the knowledge that I’m safe.

It’s Ang, and he’ll make it so I never hurt again.

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