Usually I find that making final plans for one of my jobs gives me a peaceful edge, a clinical nonchalance about death that keeps me calm and rational and quick. Deadly quick. I’m making them early this time. Why? Because for the first time that I can ever remember, I’m thinking of stalling, so I’m making it harder. For me. Harder for me to stall, to reconsider following through. I’ve never had to thwart myself before, never had to tie my own hands. But I can’t trust my own intentions anymore. They’re too wrapped up in a fiery redhead that I can’t stop thinking about.
Maybe it’s because of who she is. Maybe it’s because of the way I’m having to go about this. Maybe it’s because she’s actually a decent person. Or maybe it’s something I haven’t even thought of. I don’t have an answer. I only have a potential problem. And problems of any kind are never a good thing. Not in my line of work. I make sure to deal with them decisively and immediately. It’s just one more thing that makes me the best at what I do.
When I cut the engine, Muse finally tears her eyes away from the passing landscape and glances straight ahead. “Where are we?” Her puckered brow shows her confusion.
“Atlanta.”
“But why are we at a club?”
“I need to speak to someone here. I won’t be long. Stay put. Keep the door locked.”
I get out and slam the door shut before she can ask any more questions. Not that she’d really expect an answer at this point. I just feel like her inquisitiveness would only aggravate the way I’m feeling. And that’s a liability I can’t afford.
Once inside, I glance around the interior of the club. A few dozen people are crammed onto a dance floor, rubbing against one another. I’ve never understood their desire to do that. I’m more of a loner, a “let me take you into a dark corner” kind of man. Plus, I don’t like crowds. I’d never work in a place like this, but I can see how Gavin does. He’s a congenial kind of guy. You’d never know by talking to him that if you cross him or someone he loves, he can be one sadistic son of a bitch. I guess we all hide our real selves behind some kind of mask. Mine is one of indifference.
I make my way toward the back-lit bar that stretches out to the left. Doesn’t look like much has changed. There were two hot bartenders back there the last time I was here. There are three tonight, which makes sense for a weekend. I remember two of them. I never forget a face, especially dangerous ones and beautiful ones. And this one is beautiful.
A pale oval face smiles out from a long, straight sheet of dark hair. Olivia. She’s petite in a voluptuous way, a lot like Muse. But while this girl is beautiful, she has zero effect on me. The only thing that’s making my dick hard lately is a talkative redhead with jewel-green eyes and a body that begs a man to tear it apart with lips and tongue, piece by delicious piece.
Dark eyes meet mine and she smiles. I nod at her and she looks away, tipping her head in the direction of the back of the club. I follow her gesture and see her husband standing in the doorway of his office. His name is Cash Davenport. Gavin’s boss and the owner of this place. I make my way through the crush of bodies, aiming for him.
I glance back at Olivia to nod my thanks. She winks at me and then slides her eyes back to her husband as she deftly mixes a drink in a silver shaker.
As I approach Cash, I can see that he’s still looking at his wife. The expression on his face reminds me of the way a man might look at the sun when he sees it for the first time, when he’s spent his whole life in the dark. They’re that kind of couple, the kind that nothing comes between. The kind that lasts forever. The kind that survives anything. And they’ve had their fair share of obstacles to overcome. The thing is, they’re tighter than ever, it seems. More in love than ever.
When I stop to his left, Cash finally tears his eyes away from his wife to smile and offer his hand. “Jason! Good to see you, man.”
I nod, taking his hand for a quick shake. “Thanks. I hate to drop in on you like this, but I’m looking for Gavin. Have you seen him?”
I can tell by the way his sharp brown eyes narrow momentarily that he knows I’m here for work that he probably doesn’t want to know too much about. He knows more than most already, I think. And he knows that people who know too much usually end up in danger. And Cash Davenport isn’t the kind to take that kind of thing lightly.
FIFTEEN
Muse
Jasper hasn’t been inside the club for even five minutes when my bladder reminds me that I haven’t used the bathroom since we left. And after coffee and water this morning, then water on the trip, I feel like I might float away any minute. And it’s only worsened by the fact that I have nothing but darkness and quiet to distract me from it.