Page 47 of Rise of the King (Checkmate 5)

Swinging my front door open, I slam into Sophia in the hall and catch her hand when she bounces off my chest and almost thumps into the opposite wall. “Fuck, Soph!” I bring her back until she crashes against my chest. “I nearly sent you flying, babe. What the hell are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you.” Breathing heavily, she works to catch her breath and tamp down her own adrenaline surge. “You’re going out to do something dumb right now. I can tell when a man is thinking with adrenaline and not his brain.”

“I’m okay. I just have to take care of some stuff.”

“Stay here.” Her dark eyes meet mine. “Stay here for a minute until that wild look in your eyes is gone.”

“I can’t.” Pulling her under my arm, I step out of my doorway and close up my apartment. Leading her toward the stairs despite her unwillingness, I push her up and don’t stop until we get to her door. “I’ve got work to do, some things to take care of. But I’m not being dumb, I promise.”

One-handed, I turn her doorknob and raise a brow when it opens up. “You left it unlocked, Soph? Now who’s being dumb?”

“Don’t be a jackass!” She grabs the doorframe when I try to push her through. “You’re on the fourth floor; nobody would have gotten past us to come up here. Stay here.” She clutches my hand. “I know you think you have to do whatever it is you’re going to do, but nothing bad will happen if you wait ten more minutes and take a breath.”

“Something badcouldhappen.” I pry her fingers from mine and grimace when her nails dig into my skin. She’s going to fight me on this. She’s going to kick my fucking ass when she finds out what I’m doing. “Stay here, Soph. I’ll call later and check in.”

“I can’t stay here. I’ve gotta work tonight.”

“Work?” My heart gives a one-two thump. “Work from home like you usually do.”

“I can’t. I have to go on-site for this. Isn’t it better for you to stay here and make sure I get home safe? What if I get mugged in the street? You might never know.”

“Sophia!” I yank her hand from mine and push her into her apartment. “Don’t make me choose. I don’t play the guilt game. I don’t play any fucking games. Get inside, call in sick. I’ll be back later.”Maybe.

Growling, her dark eyes twinkle with rage. Holding on to the door, she looks me up and down and stops to stare into my eyes. If she’s waiting for me to change my mind, she’s shit out of luck.

Sophia is important to me. But Kane is not coming second to a girl. Not a fuckin’ chance.

When I don’t back down, she growls and slams the door in my face.

Fine. Whatever. I’ll fix it later.

Turning on my heels, I jog down the stairs and head for the street.

First,Mr. Love.I need to end this shit; I need to go home to my brother, and I need to earn a smile from Soph before we’re all dead.

* * *

Music booms throughMurphy’s Lawas I sit on a couch and study the people milling around in the dark. Mr. Love was a bust. Monster Lounge was full of pussies—and not the female variety.

Making my way to Murphy’s around midnight, I now sip a glass of Coke, pretend it has whiskey in it, and watch women parade themselves on the stage fifteen feet ahead of me.

The first two clubs didn’t feel right, and though I’m not sure if Murphy’s is right either, I’ve run out of options. If this place is a bust, I’ll try tomorrow night with clubs that use the letters C, A, and B.

I’m not sure if this place always does fancy dress or if tonight is an anomaly, but most of the dancers wear feathers in their scant outfits and masquerade masks over their faces. Some men and women in the crowd wear similar masks, which makes me uneasy.

With my beanie still on and my head down, sitting in a club full of people hiding their identity makes my adrenaline run. And being switched on for hours at a time zaps my energy until I’m certain I’ll need more than my usual two hours when I’m done.

This club is classy, with leather couches and sexy dancers. The women aren’t fifteen; if anything, they’re probably a decade older and happily collect bunches of cash as they move. Other dancers mill among the crowd; they seduce rich men, slide around in their laps, and lead them away to private rooms to earn a little more.

Just like in Pete and Abel’s clubs, a second story stretches high above my head, and the office overlooks the club. It’s like a requirement of being part of the network I plan to take down: build a club, buy and sell women, have an office overlooking your employees.

The deep bass of something new and seductive plays through the darkness. It changes the tone and draws eyes as the dancers back away and make room for just one on the stage. Maybe she’s the boss, the most experienced, the most expensive. Or maybe it’s just a new routine, and they’re putting on a show.

Sipping my Coke, I study the woman with a tight body, a skirt made of feathers, and heels that sparkle. Her shoes are several inches tall and make her tower above her colleagues. But it doesn’t matter, because they don’t have to share a stage with her. They back away as the deep thump-thump-thump makes the club vibrate beneath my feet.

Pulling my foot up and resting my ankle on my knee, I spin my half-full glass in my hand and watch the dancer move. She seduces every man within a fifty mile radius, slides around the stage like she was born to dance, and accepts large sums of cash when bills are tossed on stage. She wears an elaborate mask like so many others, which covers half of her face and both of her eyes.

Spotlights shine from above her, shadowing what features I can see, and creating seductive shadows on the stage that follow her every step and send the men wild.

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