I remove my cell phone from my purse and open the Uber app, knowing my friends have already left for The Sixth Floor. All of the sororities on campus are entered into the dance competition the club is holding tonight. Kappa Delta wins every year, and because of that, the president of my sorority will flip shit if I’m late therefore disqualifying them.
After I schedule my ride, I exit the garage, my heart still pounding in my chest. My nerves are shot. How will I explain why I’m late without telling on Killian? He has to pay for what he’s done, but I have to be smart. How do you get to a guy like him? The athletes on campus are mostly untouchable. No matter what they do, nothing ever sticks. And because the parking garage has no cameras that I can see, I have no proof Killian was behind the wheel of my car.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I stroll into The Sixth Floor, the two-story club located on the Philadelphia waterfront. Colored lights shoot through the white cloud of smoke filling the club. The air is thick, so heavy and dense that it’s hard to breathe. I inform the bouncer I’m part of the competition, and he leads me through the crowded club. It’s an old warehouse converted into a large, open room with bars on each side and stairs which lead to the VIP area.
We navigate a narrow hallway, moving to the right to allow girls with trays of drinks to pass. The bouncer stops in front of a red door and pushes it open to reveal the dressing room. Girls in short skirts and tank tops flock to the mirrored dressing tables. They take turns applying makeup and fixing their hair.
Some girls walk around in their panties and no bra with nothing more than pasties covering their nipples. It reminds me of a scene from a movie that takes place in a strip club. The bouncer stares at the naked girls, holding out his hand for me to enter the room, his eyes not leaving the girls. Already irritated, I blow past him and slam the door in his face while smiling at the thought of what he must be thinking.
I’m so pissed off at men right now. Wait until I see Killian Kade on campus. He’ll wish he never met me by the time I’m through with him.
Jemma Walcott, a new Kappa Delta pledge and the younger sister of our vice president, Jordan, raises her hand to catch my attention. I wave in response, weaving through the crowd to get to her.
“We’re about to go on,” she informs me. “My sister was looking for you.”
Like Jemma, her older sister, Jordan, is what they call a legacy, meaning they were shoe-ins at Kappa Delta because their mother is part of the sisterhood from when she attended college. They both have the same auburn hair except Jemma’s falls over her shoulders and Jordan keeps hers cropped beneath her chin.
“Where is she?” I peek around the room in search of Jordan’s short bob. She’s the only girl in our house who doesn’t have long hair.
Jemma points through the throng of girls. “She’s over there with Abby.”
Abby Gale, our president, is always somewhere near Jordan. I was hoping one day I would have a shot at either of their roles within the sorority but haven’t been able to secure enough votes to knock either of them out of the running.
“You should get ready,” Jemma says. “We’re on any minute.”
“Right.”
Staring in the mirror, I suck in a deep breath, trying to push down the anxiety bubbling up inside my chest. I have to act normal. None of my sorority sisters can know about Killian stealing my car. There has to be a reason why he wanted it, and I’m going to get to the bottom of it on my own.
The bass thumps through the club, and even in the dressing room, the music vibrates beneath my four-inch heels. Girls are gathered in front of a long row of vanities, forced to share with each other. On nights like these when the entire Greek community is required to come together, the claws come out. Two girls are already fighting over a curling iron.
I can hear Jemma talking to Jordan and Abby behind me, and I mentally prepare myself for the tongue-lashing I’m about to receive for being late.
“Jade…” Abby says from behind me. “You’re finally here. So glad you could grace us with your presence. Where have you been?”
Avoiding her gaze, I continue fixing my hair in the mirror. “I got stuck in traffic.”
The Uber driver whipped through the city without any issues, but she doesn’t need to know that. I have to own my lie.
“We thought you were bailing on us.” She huffs. “Hurry up. You don’t have much time.”
A minute later, we’re ushered into the main room of the club where girls are dancing inside cages suspended from the vaulted ceiling. To win the contest, we have to dance on top of a long mahogany bar at the center of the room. Everyone can see us as we step onto the stools and climb onto the bar.
I slide my hand down the metal pole that’s bolted into the bar in front of me, reaching up to the ceiling. The announcer says a few words, and then the DJ’s beat fills the club causing the room to come alive. The people below us are dancing and drinking, grinding on each other as we work the poles. Abby and Jordan created our choreographed routine. It’s the same ass-shaking bullshit they force us to do every time.
As I sway my hips from side to side, I follow the lead of my sisters. We have to win. Abby will never let us live this night down if we don’t come in first place.
The song is almost over, and we’re so close to the finish line, when a girl in our group trips and falls forward tumbling into the arms of a tall, dark-haired guy in the crowd. I recognize him. It’s Preston Parker, the captain of the ice hockey team.
But I don’t recognize the girl who fell. She’s not in Kappa Delta. Why was she even on the stage with us? Either way, this girl just cost us the prize.
I glance down the bar at Abby, who has an angry scowl plastered on her face. She orders the rest of us to finish the song pretending as if the girl didn’t just ruin our shot. So, we do as she says, even though we know it’s over. There’s no way we can win now.
Once the song ends, another group of girls exit the dressing room ready to take our places. We’re expected to hop down from the bar, thrown into the mass of people who are now reaching for us. Strange fingers slide down my arms, and I cringe from the feeling of their skin against mine.
I eventually hit a wall, my hands landing on a man’s chiseled chest, rock hard from his bulging muscles. Staring up at him, my mouth opens in shock. It’s Killian Kade. His expression mirrors mine once he realizes we know each other.
“You owe me a car,” I growl over the loud music.
He smirks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Irritated, I let out a puff of air. “Don’t bullshit me. I saw you behind the wheel of my car. You’re lucky, I didn’t call the police.”
He looks confused. “You didn’t?”
I shake my head. “No, because I’d rather punish you myself.”
I’m greeted with another sexy smirk. “Oh, yeah? What kind of punishment did you have in mind?”
“Not like that, you idiot.”
Maybe like that.
He clutches my hands which are still on his chest and drags me closer to him, bending down until his lips are almost touching mine. I can’t move or think with Killian this close to me. His dark hair falls in front of his green eyes that look like emeralds when the overhead light hits them just right. I’m paralyzed by his good looks, my mind wandering to places it shouldn’t right now.
He stole your car, I remind myself. He’s the enemy.
“You know nothing,” he whispers into my ear, his voice deep and sensual. “Prove it.” His voice is a deep growl, his eyes luring me in as he holds my gaze. Guys like Killian have that it factor, a special aura which surrounds him. Dark tattoos wrap around his muscular biceps, some of the words written in script and others intricate lines and patterns I can’t make out in the darkness.
“I will prove it,” I yell over the music. “I know what I saw. Nothing you can say or do will make me think otherwise.”
“I’ve seen you around campus. What’s your name? Jen, Jack
ie, Jess…”
“Jade,” I finish for him. “Like the stone.”
Green like his eyes that have me so entranced.
Before he can respond, one of his friends clamps a hand on his shoulder. He angles his body to speak to the gorgeous blond who’s stolen his attention. I hear him say Chase, and I assume that’s his friend’s name. It’s as if good-looking men multiply and form packs. All of the guys in his house are hot, and Killian is equally mouthwatering. So is his friend who I’ve never seen before.
While he’s preoccupied, Shannon, one of my sorority sisters, comes up to my side. She latches onto my arm and pulls me away from Killian. In fact, she doesn’t even seem to notice him. Maybe it’s better this way. For now.
“What are you doing all the way over here? You lost?” Shannon laughs, dragging me back toward our sisters waiting for us on the left side of the bar. “We’re heading up to the VIP area. Are you in?”
Unlike most of the girls in our sorority, Shannon doesn’t have money. Jordan and I usually take turns paying her share of the more lavish expenditures. Not because we feel sorry for her. She was there for me in the beginning, and one of my only real friends in Kappa Delta, and I want to make sure she’s included.
Money means nothing to my family. My father has tons of it. He won’t miss a few hundred dollars. In fact, he won’t even care about the car Killian stole. I can buy Killian some time to explain why he’s so desperate to keep his crime a secret. I’m conflicted, torn between doing the right thing and turning him over to the police. But I keep telling myself he wouldn’t do something so stupid unless it were important. Using my car to get to The Sixth Floor doesn’t make sense. So, if he’s here, then my car might be here too.
As Shannon steers me through the crowd, I take one last look over my shoulder for Killian. And that fast, as if he never existed, he’s gone.
Chapter Three
Killian
A techno beat cranks through the speakers suspended from the ceiling of The Sixth Floor, the bass vibrating beneath my feet. A group of half-naked girls are dancing on the bar in front of me, replacing the girls from Kappa Delta in the dance contest. Now I have one girl, in particular, invading my space, glaring at me with a mixture of hate and lust.
In a short, black skirt and low-cut tank top, the blonde in front of me is every man’s fantasy—mine included—and I just stole her car.
Jade saw me behind the wheel. No matter how much I try to deny it, she knows the truth. She hasn’t called the cops. At least not yet. So, I need to do everything in my power to keep her from talking.
I lick my lips at her, and the corner of her mouth curls up into a tiny smile. Chase appears at my side and taps me on the shoulder. His gaze travels between Jade and me.
Leaning in, he whispers into my ear. “I’m going back to the garage. You coming?”
Glancing over my shoulder at Jade, I blink a few times wishing I had imagined her and that I made the whole thing up.
She will be my downfall.
My biggest weakness.
I’ve worked too hard to allow her to take it all away. But for now, she’s no longer my problem.
Shannon, a hot sorority chick I hit on sometimes during class, tugs on Jade’s arm pulling her deeper into the crowded club.
“We have a problem,” I admit to Chase, shifting my attention back to him, dismissing the fact I’ve just let a witness to my crime walk away.
His eyebrows rise. “What kind of problem?”
I nod in Jade’s direction. “The blonde I was talking to. The Mercedes is her car… and she saw me take it.”
Furious, his nostrils flare. “How could you be so stupid, Kade? The Mercedes was the easiest score on the list. An in-and-out job.”
“I know, I know.” I slap him on the back to reassure him. “She has a crush on me. I’ll handle it.”
He shakes his head. “You’re slipping. Last week you almost forgot to erase the footage in the parking lot on Market Street.”
“I got a lot going on, okay?” That’s an understatement. “I’ll take care of it. Just get off my ass. I know what’s at stake… for all of us.”
He drops the conversation, and I’m thankful for the awkward pause between us. Roman and Nate will flip fucking shit when I tell them what happened with Jade. They have everything riding on this job working out for us. Their uncle put his neck out for us to get in contact with the buyer in Italy.
All of us need the big payout. This particular buyer will throw a lot of business our way if it goes according to plan. After we handed over the keys to the trucks, our part was over. Now, we have to wait for Roman’s uncle to finish up with the buyer’s middleman before we receive our cut of the deal.
Most of the time, Chase and my crew handle the cars. My job is to scout them and keep the cops off our asses. Years before I ever considered playing hockey, I was into video games. I met Jamie O’Connor, a defenseman on my hockey team, at a gaming convention in Center City, the downtown area of Philadelphia. We became friends after I beat him in one of the earlier editions of Mage Wars, the game, and the Universe his father created.
Because of Jamie, I turned my love of gaming into a useful skill for my crew. Over the years, Jamie taught me everything he knows—hockey included. I never intended to play for the Strickland Senators. Honestly, I never thought I would attend college. And for that reason, I can’t screw this up for my family over a girl.
I have an unquestionable loyalty to my friends who rely on me to make a living. No matter what road I choose, I let someone down. The money I make from the car boosts pays my tuition and keeps a roof over my mother and little brother’s heads. I’m constantly pulled in different directions, conflicted between where I want to be and where I should be.
After we leave the club, Chase drives us over to Knox Motors, the auto body shop Roman owns. His father left the garage to him in his will, though paying the back taxes has been the toughest challenge. Between Roman, Nate, and Chase working twelve-hour days at the garage, combined with our side jobs, he’s still behind on the checks to the IRS.
Roman emerges from the garage, an open beer raised in his hand. “We’re gonna be rich,” he announces before taking a sip.
Chase snickers and turns to me. “You better tell him now.”
The garage doors are raised, loud rap music playing, light pouring out from the space. Nate and the rest of our friends are already inside. None of them wanted to come with us to The Sixth Floor.
On our way into the garage, I tug on Roman’s shoulder. “Hey, Rome, I need to talk to you for a sec.”
He takes another sip of his beer and then offers it to me. I wave him off, and he presses the bottle to his lips.
“I know the girl who owns the Mercedes. She saw me steal it.”
He stops dead in his tracks, slack-jawed. “She what?” Roman shakes his head, staring over my shoulder at Chase. “No, no… I don’t even want to hear it. Because you would never be that stupid.”
“It wasn’t me. Blame bad luck or bad timing. She was on her way to her car when I was driving down the ramp in the parking garage. I saw her again at The Sixth Floor.”
“What the fuck are you doing here, then?” He raises his hands over his head in frustration. “You should be at the club kissing her fucking ass, begging her not to rat on you… on us.”
“She didn’t call the cops.”
“Big fucking deal. She saw your face. She knows your name. She can turn on you at any time. One look at you will lead the cops right back to us.” Roman tugs at the ends of his dark hair and sighs. “Fuck, Kade.”
“Look, I’m sorry. I thought I was careful.”
His mouth twists into a scowl. “Just fix it.” He turns his back on me walking away. “I can’t even look at you right now. Go back to that fucking club. Find the girl. And do whatever’s necessary to shut her mouth.”
Chase stops for a second and shakes his head, disappointment scrolling across his face.
I’
ve fucked them, I know.
This fact is not lost on me.
But how can I convince Jade to keep this to herself?
She’s rich, obviously, or she wouldn’t own a Mercedes that costs well over a hundred grand when she doesn’t even need a car in the city.
Jamie started hooking up with Shannon a few weeks ago, and she’s a friend of Jade’s. Maybe Jamie will know where I can find her.
Chapter Four
Jade
“Miss Westbrook,” the police officer says to me from across the table, sliding a piece of paper in front of me along with a pen. “I need you to sign your statement.”
With a shaky hand, I reach for the pen and avoid Officer Miller’s intense gaze. Unfortunately, I could only wait so long before I called my father about my car. His lawyer showed up on my doorstep in a limousine and forced me to come to the local police station to make an official report. I doubt they will ever find the car. Lord knows where Killian’s hidden it. Police involvement is necessary for the insurance company. Otherwise, they won’t pay my father for the car.
As expected, he had someone from the Mercedes dealership deliver a new car to my sorority house. I don’t even need a car in the city, but my father insisted that I either have one of his drivers take me places off-campus or drive myself. Those were my options, so I chose the path of least resistance.
The last thing I need is one of his staff following me around and alerting him to my every move. I chose Strickland University for a reason. This is my chance to create some distance. My father wasn’t thrilled I chose Strick U over his alma mater, Columbia University.
Kissing Killian: Face-Off Legacy #5 Page 2
