by Nicole York
Cole slid his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “First one in over a week. I’m almost itching for someone to give me a challenge.”
Vance nodded pointedly at Cole’s face. “It looks like someone did give you a challenge.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Cole said, using the same line he’d offered Zak when he expressed concern about the bruises on his face earlier in the week. The damage had been much worse then. Now the bruises were already browning and turning yellow around the edges. They’d be gone in another week or so.
“Uh huh. Sure it isn’t.”
Cole leaned up against the wall on the opposite side of the door from Vance and rested the sole of one of his boots against the side of the building. “Marcus has Zak checking in on me now. Apparently, they think I’m unstable.”
“They said that to you?”
“No,” Cole said darkly. “It was implied. They said they were concerned.”
Vance shrugged and exhaled. Smoke rose and clouded up the light shining down from above the door. “Marcus runs a tight ship here, man. He can’t risk having a guy around whose head isn’t in the game. Mistakes happen. Hell, look at my fuckup with Keesha and Adam Cooper last month.” Vance shuddered. “We have a lot of responsibility on our shoulders. If you’re not up for this shit, maybe it’s time to find something else.”
So Cole wasn’t the only person beating himself up for a mistake that involved Adam Cooper.
Where Cole had shot Marcus in an attempt to put Cooper six feet under, Vance had failed to stop Cooper from kidnapping Keesha from the club. Keesha didn’t hold it against Vance and neither did Marcus. But Vance clearly still had a tough time swallowing the pill of his failure.
“I don’t want to find something else,” Cole admitted.
“You’re finally starting to like it here?”
“Like is a strong word.”
Vance chuckled. “All right. What then? You’re just tolerating our lot and our fuckery?”
“That sounds more accurate, yes.”
“Jackass.”
Cole looked up at the night sky. Before coming to New York, he’d always been able to see stars up there. But here it was rare to steal a glimpse of the starry night sky. The city lights were too bright.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like being at Kadia. He just felt like there was something else waiting around the corner for him—something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was clear to him that something was missing. There was a reason why he was so fucking angry all the time. There was a reason the only place he could quiet the storm was the underground-fighting ring.
There was a reason for all the unpacked moving boxes in his apartment.
He just didn’t know what that reason was yet.
Cole pushed off the wall and opened the door. “I’ll see you inside, man.”
Vance nodded as he took a long drag from his cigarette and Cole left his co-worker to his own devices in the cool, quiet alley.
Kadia swallowed him up and he moved deeper into the belly of the beast. The music rumbled beneath the soles of his shoes. Lights flashed and painted stripes of green, blue, and pink across the faces of pretty girls who batted their lashes at him as he brushed past them and their entourages.
He nodded at Keesha behind the bar, letting her know that the drunk wouldn’t be a problem anymore. She nodded back.
Cole made a passing round of the first floor to make mental notes of people who might require a watchful eye this evening. Everyone seemed to be on their best behavior. The night was still young, of course. The problematic folks didn’t usually play their hands until well past one or two in the morning.
He was about to head for the second floor when he spotted two women coming through the front doors.
His gaze immediately pulled to the one with long black hair and ivory skin.
She had legs that went on for miles. She walked with purpose, her chin high, her eyes hidden under a dark dramatic brow and cast into shadow by the flashing lights above. All he could see of her face were her ruby-red lips and they reminded him of a heart.
A full, plump, soft, kissable heart.
He gave his head a shake.
A pretty girl isn’t going to solve your problems, Cole. Keep your head in the game.
9
Cameron
Cameron felt the attention of every single person in Kadia snap in her and Pauline’s direction when they stepped into the club. They hadn’t had to wait in line for long, despite not being on the VIP list, and that was all fine and good, but Cameron wasn’t used to hanging out on the main floor with all the other patrons who just walked into the club off the street.
She was used to being escorted to a private table in a sultry corner where she could sip expensive champagne and watch strangers dance until she picked one out of the crowd she wanted to indulge in some time with. Her taste had always leaned toward tall, fit, dangerously sexy Italian men. Those nights never ended well, however, and she was going to try to be a good girl this evening.
No Italians.
No sexy muscular guys.
And no bottle service.
Pauline made a beeline to the main bar. Kadia was busy but not overwhelmingly so, and both women were able to lean against the bar and lean forward, pressing their tits up against the hem of their low-cut dresses in an effort to get the bartender’s attention.
It worked.
A handsome young man in a black T-shirt nodded at them as he poured drinks for customers at the other end of the bar. His arms bulged with muscles and he had a jawline sharp enough to slice through flesh.
Pauline looked over her shoulder and smiled at Cameron. “He’s a cute one, isn’t he?”
“Cute?” Cameron mused. “Nothing about that stallion is cute, Pauline. He’s an absolute stud.”
“A little short for my taste.”
“Look at those arms, babe. He could still throw you around like a rag doll if he wanted to.”
Pauline fanned her cheeks and let out some playful laughter. “It’s been too long. Don’t tease me like that. Otherwise, I might abandon you here and break girl code 101.”
The bartender made his way over to them with an obvious swagger to his walk and a sexy smirk playing on his lips. He looked like trouble, or trouble’s older and more dangerous brother Anarchy.
He looked them over with an arched eyebrow. “I haven’t seen you ladies in here before. First time at Kadia?”
Cameron nodded.
Pauline, however, shook her head. “I’ve been a handful of times. But it’s Cameron’s first. Isn’t it, babe?”
Cameron smiled and nodded.
“What do you think so far?” the bartender asked.
Cameron shrugged and leaned forward to call over the music. “I think it’s loud and the bar service is terrible. I’ve been waiting a while to quench my thirst and yet,” she held up a hand, “there’s not a drink in my hand.”
Pauline seemed uneasy about Cameron’s assertive flirting.
The bartender, however, grinned like a schoolboy. “What can I make you?”
“Gin and tonic,” Cameron said, “with a splash of lemon.”
“A Manhattan please,” Pauline said.
Their drinks were made and passed over the bar with a wink from the hunk. “On me. Apologies for making you wait.”
Cameron sipped her drink and found it exactly to her liking. She and Pauline thanked the bartender and slipped away to wander through the club and check out all the nooks and crannies.
Cameron was surprised by how many dancers were on shift. Raised platforms, some of them caged in, were topped with at least one female dancer each. Some boasted two nearly naked women dancing together, their limbs half tangled up, their tits hanging out of skimpy tops, twenty-dollar bills tucked in the straps of their G-strings.
Men and women alike milled around the dance floor but not on it, and Cameron wondered how long it would take before people wanted to dance. She supposed th
e night was still young. Dancing never got going until the crowd was good and drunk and properly loosened up. She could exercise patience until then.
One thing she did find strange was the complete and utter lack of sufficient seating.
“Where are we supposed to sit?” she called into Pauline’s ear as they passed a dancer with wild blonde hair and a sparkly pink lingerie ensemble.
“Kadia isn’t really for sitting,” Pauline said. “It’s about mingling. Drinking. Dancing. Fucking.”
Cameron’s brows pulled together. Had she heard her friend right? “Fucking?”
“Yep.” Pauline tilted her head back and looked up.
Cameron followed her gaze. The ceiling of the night club was nearly four stories above her head, and she realized for the first time that Kadia was three levels of nightclub space. A staircase on the other side of the club led up to the second level, which wrapped around the outer edge of the club. A railing ran along its edge and several people on the second floor stood against the glass looking down on the people below. A third level floated high above. It was too high for Cameron to be able to see what was up there, but she could see shadows moving.
“Should we go up there?” Cameron asked.
“We can go to the second floor,” Pauline said. “I don’t think the third is our cup of tea.”
The women began making their way across the dance floor to the stairs.
“Why not? What’s up there? Illegal gambling or something?” Cameron was half joking, but as the words came out of her mouth, she realized she wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of illegal activity happened in this place. It had that feeling. That vibe. The immense pressure of truth that there were people in this night club who weren’t to be fucked with.
“Not gambling,” Pauline said. “Sex.”
“Sex?” Cameron asked as they climbed the stairs.
“Yeah, you know, sex? Where one person puts their outie in someone else’s innie.”
“Oh my God, Pauline. Sometimes, I wonder why on earth we’re friends.”
Pauline giggled as they reached the second floor and moved to the railing to get out of other people’s way. “I’m just giving you a hard time. But in all honesty, the third floor is a sex floor.”
“What on earth is a sex floor?”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Pauline said simply. “Guests are free to go up there, book a private room, and fuck each other until their heart’s content. Kadia offers liquid courage as well as a little enticement from other sources.”
“Other sources?” Cameron felt way out of her depth here. How did Pauline know so much about a place that seemed, for lack of a better word, seedy?
“Drugs, babe. Drugs.”
“Like ecstasy?”
“Sort of.” Pauline nodded. “Kadia specializes in something a little more unique than that, though. Apparently, it’s a sex drug that makes people lose their inhibitions. They go wild on the stuff and do things they never imagined they would do, all for a little bit of downstairs action.”
“That’s happening now? Strangers are one floor above our heads fucking each other’s high brains out of their skulls?”
Pauline sipped her Manhattan. “Yep, I would assume so.”
There was something about that information that made Cameron’s insides feel a little weak. Never in a million years could she do something like that, especially with a stranger. Could she?
No, she thought to herself. She wasn’t a club slut who would throw herself at the highest bidder who plied her with drinks all night or placed a little blue pill on her tongue. No way. She was Cameron White. Sophisticated, beautiful, classy.
And horny, she thought woefully.
Pauline nudged Cameron in the ribs with her elbow. “Kind of kinky, isn’t it?”
Cameron hated how her cheeks burned and hoped the dimly lit club concealed her embarrassment. “I don’t know. It’s kind of icky.”
“Icky? No, I don’t think so. I’ve heard stories about the things people have done to each other up there. Really naughty things. Things that make a girl feel a little weak in the knees if she thinks about it for too long.”
Cameron rolled her eyes and laughed. “Oh please, what could possibly make you weak in the knees just from hearing about it?”
“Apparently,” Pauline said quietly, leaning in close so she could speak directly into Cameron’s ear, “the owner of this place is a real piece of work with a huge cock and a ruthless approach in the bedroom. Rumor has it he’s sent girls home who could hardly walk straight after giving it to them. Can you imagine being owned like that?” Pauline bit her bottom lip.
“Eww.” I pushed her away from me and she started to laugh. “Since when were you into bad boys and rough sex?”
“Since forever,” Pauline said flatly. “Are you seriously telling me you’ve never fantasized about what it might be like to let a guy like that hunky bartender have his way with you? And I don’t just mean have sex with you. No, no, no. I mean have his way. Throw you down. Hold you there. Slap your ass. Grab your throat. Fuck you hard and deep even when you beg him to stop and—”
“Pauline,” Cameron breathed, looking around like she was worried someone might overhear her. “Jesus. Rein it in, woman. We’re at a nightclub not a sex party.”
Pauline flashed a smile. “Sorry. I always get horny when I’m ovulating.”
Cameron laughed. “You and me both.”
Pauline and Cameron finished their exploration of the second level, which was much like the first but lacked a dance floor. Women danced and men threw money at them. Servers dressed in skimpy black outfits ran long painted nails over men’s shoulders and tantalized them with their cleavage and long bare legs. Bodyguards stood silently watchful in dark corners, and there, in one of those corners, Cameron spied a big bald man with a steely gaze surveying the club.
Cameron gestured to him with a slight nod of her head. “Do you think that’s him?”
“Who?” Pauline asked, looking around.
“Don’t look! You’re being so obvious. There, the big bald guy in the corner. Do you think that’s the owner?”
Pauline stole a look into the shadowy corner. Her breath hitched in her throat. “I think so.”
“You’d let a man like that have his way with you?”
Pauline nodded eagerly. “You wouldn’t?”
Cameron studied the man. His gaze was dark, his intent focused. He watched the club like he was a lion watching his pride.
Cameron shook her head. “No, I don’t think I would. He looks scary.”
Pauline finished her drink. “That’s the point.”
10
Cole
“She’s out of your league,” Dean said when Cole leaned up against the side of the bar, still transfixed by the beautiful dark-haired woman who’d been gracing them with her presence for well over an hour now.
Cole shot Dean a dirty look. “How would you know?”
Dean tossed a rag over his shoulder and carried a fresh tray of just-washed glassware over to the main part of the bar where Keesha was making drinks. The pair of them worked around each other as he unloaded stacks of glasses and moved back to the kitchen for more.
Cole followed.
“Her name is Cameron White,” Dean said as he began filling the tray with more glasses. “The daughter of billionaire philanthropist Wayne White. You know, the—”
“Poster boy for good deeds?” Cole asked. “Yeah, I know who he is.”
“That’s the one. So, like I said, she’s out of your league. The other girl is cute though. Big eyes. I like big eyes. Something about the way a girl with big eyes looks at the world is a little magical, you know?”
Cole stared blankly at the bartender. “No, I don’t.”
Dean waved him off. “That’s because you’re a bitter motherfucker. Forgot who I was talking to.”
Cole brooded. He wasn’t bitter. He was just… well, bitter.
Damn it, he thought cro
ssly.
“Go ask about her friend,” Dean said.
“I’m not interested in her friend.”
“I know,” the bartender drawled, obviously exasperated by Cole’s complete and utter ignorance when it came to picking up women. He could get a girl whenever he wanted. The trouble was he didn’t often want them. Not lately at least. Dean gestured for Cole to come closer with a curl of his fingers. “Rich girls like Cameron White will be thrown off if a guy chooses to talk to her friend instead of her. It will make her ask questions. She’ll try to riddle you out. Don’t let her. Keep her on her toes.”
“I don’t like playing cat and mouse games, Dean.”
“Think of it as dog and squirrel games then.”
“Fuck off.”
Dean laughed. “I guess you could always pursue your route and just stare longingly at her for hours on end. I’m sure that will make her feel comfortable and inspired to come over and talk to you.”
Cole grimaced. Dean had a point there.
What did it matter? He didn’t have any intention of taking a girl home. Cole was too fucked up to even consider anything with a woman. He’d invite nothing but chaos into her life. He was a mess. A downright, fucked-up, confused, ass-backward, still-pining-over-the-life-he-used-to-have mess.
Cole sighed as he followed Dean back out to the bar where the bartender unloaded yet more glasses. His eyes wandered until he spotted Cameron again.
She stood at the railing on the second level. She had a drink in her hands, probably her second or third gin and tonic, and she was swirling the ice around with her black straw. Diamond encrusted bracelets glittered on her wrists but they couldn’t compete with the radiance of her smile as she threw her head back and laughed at something her friend said to her.
