by Piper Lawson
“Hey!” I grab Harrison’s arm halfway down the hall.
His face is a mask of tension when he turns back. “I’m not a good man,” he murmurs. “But I will protect the people I love.”
I run my fingers up his face, thumbs brushing the tight lines around his mouth.
I love you. I feel it in every inch of me, a raw, aching truth that’s been part of me for longer than I knew.
God, if I lose him today…
I shift up on my toes and press my forehead to his. “Let’s get out of here,” I whisper. “Fuck all of this, Harrison. I don’t need La Mer. Let’s just leave.”
His eyes crinkle at the corners. There’s no bloodlust in them now. Only commitment. Responsibility. Devotion.
“There’s a woman—a queen—and her stage is waiting.”
He gently pushes my hands away, and when he starts down the stairs, I feel like the ground has split wide and I’m falling again.
My costume was intended to be daring.
A black silk tuxedo jacket, custom made for me by a designer in Barcelona. One side has gold threads woven through it. Underneath, I have black silk pants that hug my hips, gather around my ankles. The white vest, once it’s fastened, dips low between my breasts.
At the moment, it’s lower than intended. A button came off, and if I wear it like this, Harrison will start a riot.
I’m straddling a dining room chair and sewing the button back on, a needle in my teeth, when the tiny camera with a battery pack on the table catches my eye. Harrison suggested I stick it to my phone and set that somewhere on the desk in front of me when I mix.
But I can do better.
Five minutes later, I pull the last thread tight. The button is secured once more, the lens on the outside of my vest and the tiny battery secured with thread against the lining.
My phone rings.
Annie.
“Are you excited for your show?” she demands. My friend is a dark shadow, the sun at her back.
I take the needle from my mouth. “Excited doesn’t begin to describe it,” I admit.
There’s a knock at the front door, and Natalia bustles toward it. She shoots me a frown on the way—she doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t let her fix the costume. To be honest, I needed to keep busy.
“We’re about to find out.”
I barely hear Annie’s words over the phone because there’s a squeal from the doorway and my phone at once.
“Fuck.” I drop the vest, the button, and the phone.
“We came to see your show!” Annie cheers.
“Who’s ‘we’?”
Tyler’s behind her with the baby. Plus Beck and Elle.
My shock and joy are overshadowed by dismay. Tonight, something thrilling is going down, but if we do our jobs, something dangerous will follow. “You guys can’t be here.”
“I get it, the club is sold out. I can get us in,” Beck says, smirking.
“As usual, Hollywood misses the point.”
I turn to see Ash jog down the stairs.
“Ash! Tell them they can’t be here.”
He cocks his head at me. “Well, they are.” He cuts a look at my friends. “Quiz: What would stop you from seeing Raegan’s show tonight? Warning from a mysterious oracle?”
Annie shakes her head, Elle snorts, Tyler frowns, and Beck lifts a brow.
“How about plague of locusts? Pestilence? Nothing?” Ash grins, grabbing my shoulder before I shove him off. “Sounds like they’re staying.”
27
Rae
By the time I head to La Mer, I’m so amped up I could explode.
“Don’t worry about us,” Annie insists. “The nanny is looking after the baby here. We’ll be over in a car closer to the start time of your show.”
I hug each of my friends in turn.
Toro insists on driving me, and Harrison holds the back door.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he shifts inside.
“Going with you.”
I’m grateful to have his presence.
We drive over in silence. There’s so much to be said, but given the amount of our relationship devoted to banter and argument, the quiet is too precious to break.
When we arrive, Harrison kisses me hard. I don’t think he’s going to let me go, but finally he pulls back.
“I’ve got your back. We all do,” he murmurs against my lips.
I nod.
At the back entrance, I get out. My security followed us in another car, and they come with me.
I’ve always wanted to be here, and now I am. The club is huge and empty, but as we wind through the halls, it occurs to me that tonight it’s mine.
Not Mischa’s, not even Harrison’s.
You can’t buy a feeling. Can’t own an emotion.
No matter what happens beyond the dance floor, I can give the people on it everything I am.
The prep is a blur. I catch Eva’s eye once, in the hall outside the green room, but don’t see Mischa.
I get on stage as the lighting tech cuts everything to black.
There’s nothing but the energy of the crowd. A pulsing, throbbing beat.
It’s my heart.
When I lift my headphones onto my ears, I focus on what I can do—my set.
From the first chords of my opening track of the night, the crowd erupts. The lights come up, and they see me and I see them.
This is what I wanted, and nothing can take tonight away from me.
It’s my job to hold them in my hands. To take them on a journey, to keep them safe and entertained and away from whatever’s going on behind closed doors.
I lose myself.
It’s the end of my set when my phone lights up.
Harrison: There’s a problem. The deal’s supposed to be going down, but the cameras haven’t shown Mischa setting foot near his office.
Shit.
I scan the venue from my bird’s-eye view on stage. Nothing.
Rae: Maybe it’s not happening tonight.
Harrison: She said it was.
“She” meaning Eva.
Did she cross us? I could see her fucking with me, but not Harrison.
If she did…
My blood runs cold.
Rae: He has to be around.
My set wraps up, and I head back to the green room, muttering to security about needing to unwind in private. Then I call a number.
A few minutes later, the blond woman slips into my room. I whirl to face her.
“You set us up. Where is he?” I demand.
Eva cuts a look down the hall. “VIP. The deal moved.”
“The cameras didn’t show him going in there.”
“There’s another entrance.”
“Did you tell the police? Harrison?”
“No.”
I hit Harrison’s number.
“It’s in the VIP room,” I bite out when he answers.
He exhales tightly. “They won’t move without visual confirmation of what’s happening in there. Sawyer’s cameras don’t include the VIP.”
This is bad. There’s no way to get eyes into that room. If they don’t act now, who knows when there will be another chance.
I press a hand to my stomach, sweat still sticking my clothes to my skin. My fingers brush the smooth buttons of my tailored vest. One is smooth. One has a slight bump.
I glance down at the camera. “Harrison? Did Sawyer get the feed from my show?”
“I’ll check.” Pause. “Yes. Why?”
I look at Eva. Her pretty face has healed from what Mischa did to it, but I can’t forget how the bruises looked under her skin.
I know what it is to have someone take from me in a way that’s unforgivable. To not only violate me but make me question myself. The doubt, the fear, the need to get out of my own skin because it doesn’t feel safe.
This time, I know where the danger lies. And it’s more imminent, more treacherous, than any I’ve walked into before.
But o
n the other side is safety for the people like the woman who died at Bliss, the ones who would be harmed by Mischa’s empire. It’s for the people I love, the ones who’d do anything for me.
I never used to believe in that kind of loyalty and devotion.
Now, I do. I’m not afraid of it.
The phone at my ear, I say to Eva, “Get me into the VIP room.”
“I can get you in, but I can’t get you out,” Eva says.
I don’t trust her for a second. But I trust the man on the other end of the phone. And my friends.
“Harrison…” I murmur into the microphone.
“Raegan, don’t even fucking think about it.“ The panic in his voice makes me swallow hard.
“I need to tell you—“
“We have to go.” Eva grabs the phone and clicks off.
As I follow Eva to the hall, blood pounding in my ears, all I can think is I hope he knows I love him.
28
Rae
Eva’s knock on the door of the VIP room is crisp. She’s close enough her perfume hangs in the air. I breathe through my mouth and count the seconds, half hoping the door doesn’t open.
I reach seven before the door swings wide, revealing a huge security guard with a tattooed face.
“I brought entertainment for my fiancé.”
If Eva’s nervous, she doesn’t sound it. Her choice of words makes the hairs on my arms lift under the tuxedo jacket.
The guard’s gaze rolls down my body. I fold my arms to hide the camera, and his attention stops on my breasts.
“Turn. Arms out,” he states.
Shit. I’m really wishing my security hadn’t been detained at the other end of this long hall at the insistence of Mischa’s men that only Eva and I could pass.
I face away, my gaze locking with Eva’s. Now she’s nervous too.
He starts at my ankles, hands lingering on my calves, my thighs.
“Don’t damage his property,” Eva says lightly. “He’ll be angry if you do.”
“Hey!” The bark has the man freezing, casting a look over his shoulder. “Bring her here.”
Security steps back to reveal four men—two guards and two seated men in suits.
Mischa Ivanov is impossible to miss even reclined on the couch. His suit is crisp, a red handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket. Cold blue eyes see into me, through me. I feel for the camera, making sure it’s still unblocked. Hopefully, it still works.
“You’re excused,” Mischa instructs his fiancée.
What? No.
Her presence might keep things from getting ugly.
But Eva doesn’t protest, just nods without looking at me and closes the door silently behind her.
Didn’t plan on being alone with the madman. Figured I could get in, provide Harrison and the police the visual confirmation they needed to take action.
Please take some damned action.
“Miss Madani,” Mischa drawls, interrupting my thoughts. “I understand your set was tremendous.”
“It was. I wanted to thank you for the opportunity.”
He spreads his hands. “So, thank me.”
I lift my chin. “I just did.”
One of the guards, who is on his phone, hangs up and taps Mischa on the shoulder. “Third loading dock. In the kegs.”
I straighten. That must be where they’re moving the drugs.
Did my camera pick up the audio? It must have.
Mischa nods to the guard but speaks to me. “A woman who brings Harrison King to his knees. Perhaps I should be thanking you. He’s been distracted enough I was able to sweep this place out from under him.”
My heart kicks, the hard ball of tension in my stomach giving a degree.
“My empire is expanding,” he goes on, and I can’t resist taking a shot.
“Through cheap drugs that kill people?”
His smile freezes. “Every war has collateral damage, Miss Madani.”
“You can’t call it collateral damage when you’re planning a delivery of the same drugs tonight.”
Mischa’s eyes flash. I’ve made a mistake. Maybe he’ll drag Eva back in here. Or he thinks I’ve figured this out on my own.
Armed police will be here any minute.
He shifts off the couch, adjusting his cuffs. “I can call it whatever the fuck I want. I’m more interested in talking about you. You are quite appealing, though you don’t try to be. It’s that attribute that makes you desirable.”
Smug son of a bitch. I’m vulnerable here, but there’s a part of me that won’t be silenced. The assumption that women exist to attract men, that we’re pawns to be desired and manipulated.
“I thought it was the fact that I’m with Harrison. I mean, that seems to be what gets you off. Going after what he has. His parents. His brother. His fiancée.” I glance back at the door, toward wherever Eva’s gone.
But instead of looking angry, Mischa laughs. “I’ve never seen him so captivated by someone. You gave him something his entire corporation never could.”
“What’s that?”
“Hope. And now we’re going to take it away from him.”
Sweat rolls between my shoulders.
Where are the police?
The truth washes over me in a sickening wave.
They’re not coming.
Either they can’t, or they’re not seeing what’s happening. If they could, they would’ve been here by now.
“What are you waiting for?” Mischa drawls. “You’re a beautiful woman. Entertain us.”
The guard behind me steps closer, and something hard bumps my lower back.
When cold metal slips under my jacket and presses against my skin, it’s worse than my nightmare. At least if I fell forever, I wouldn’t hit the ground.
Ivanov’s cruel grin and the gun in my back say I’m about to do just that.
29
Harrison
From the second Rae entered that VIP room, I’ve been ripped in two.
“Go in,” I snap for the third time from the car outside, even though no one can hear me.
Watching her in that room with Ivanov, I’m dying a slow death. Sawyer got me a link to the feed when we figured out Rae’s plan and patched it through to the police too.
It kills me the audio on her camera isn’t working. I’ll ream Sawyer out for this later, assuming there is a later for all of us.
If she gets hurt in there, I’ll never forgive myself.
I should’ve stopped her. Should’ve taken her up on her suggestion this morning to walk away from all of it.
I rue the day I so much as uttered Ivanov’s name in her presence because if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here. Now the woman I love is risking herself to bring him down.
The second the asshole gets off the couch and crosses to her, I’m cursing. Then the camera swings wildly before settling again at a new angle, one that shows a security guard but not her.
She took off the vest.
Or someone ripped it off her.
I’m out of the car.
A plainclothes officer emerges from an unmarked vehicle. “Mr. King, do not go in there.”
I wrench away from him. “If you won’t, I will.”
I head inside, trying to wade through the crowd, but La Mer is packed. Raegan stirred them into a damned frenzy, and the afterparty is going strong.
This is taking too long.
I pick up my phone and hit a contact. Tyler answers over the din.
“I’m trying to get to Raegan,” I holler. “I need crowd control. Everyone near the stage and out of the halls.”
I don’t want anyone in the way of what could happen.
He hangs up, and I think he’s been cut off until the DJ changes to something else and I hear Tyler singing over it.
The crowd erupts, flooding the stage. A few people are in the halls still, and I shove past, reaching for my phone. I switch a few settings on it before sticking it upside down in my jacket pocket.
&nbs
p; There’s no sign of Raegan’s security, or Mischa’s.
But when I reach the VIP door, it’s locked.
I throw my shoulder at it. Nothing.
A fire extinguisher is nearby, and I smash open the glass and retrieve it, then swing it at the door handle until it gives, and I fall inside. When I right myself and survey the scene, my stomach lurches.
Mischa is standing in front of the couch. Raegan’s next to him in her trousers, heels, and a bra, her eyes wide.
Her jacket is gone, her white vest lying across the arm of the couch. Her headphones lie on the floor, the cord twisting along the carpet.
Rage and protectiveness unfurl from somewhere deep and dark in my gut.
“Are you all right?” I demand of Raegan.
She doesn’t answer.
It could have been minutes at most since I left the car. I hate to think what he could’ve done in that time.
If he touched her…
I start to reach for her, but then I hear the click of a gun hammer behind me. The next second, my arms are caught behind my back, twisted painfully high.
Mischa grins. “You should’ve stayed with the Ivanov business. Your parents too. They might still be here. Loyalty is repaid. Those who work with us are compensated generously. It’s everything we learned in business school, Harrison.”
He’s fucking nuts.
“I tried things your way,” I say evenly, as if my heart isn’t thudding against my ribs. “It wouldn’t have worked out.”
“You were too good for what I offered. Now, I have your attention.”
Mischa crosses to me, flicking open a knife from his pocket.
He rips open my shirt, satisfaction glinting in his eyes as he sees the scar still there.
“I’ve been thinking about this for the past twenty years. This artwork is not nearly completed.”
He doesn’t want to kill me. He wants to fuck me up.
I tell myself that as the knife comes up, the blade hovering over my scar.
