Page 13 of Madness

“I know.” I was going to have to talk to Leif about his behavior. I might not be the right person to teach Tristan anymore. Or this might not be the place for him. If he couldn’t handle the pressure, he was a weakness the family couldn’t allow.

I needed more time to figure out what was wrong with him. I didn’t want to kill my cousin if I could avoid it.

“Have him followed.” I told Bash. “And take me to Entice.”

I needed to test a theory. To see if I could find the thrill that had eluded me tonight. I was going to clip a bird’s wing.

9

Kincaid

Itried to ignore the anxiety that pumped through my blood as I locked my purse away and slipped into my heels. The steady beat of music engulfed me as I walked out into the main part of the club. Immediately my eyes flicked to the private room. I let out a long breath when no guards stood outside the door.

It had been a week since the demon had cornered me in that room. Enough time for me to reason away why I reacted to him. It was because my job was on the line. That was the only possible excuse for why I’d let him touch me. Make me come. I had no choice, and my body knew that. I wouldn’t have reacted that way if anyone else had touched me.

Other reasons tried to fight their way to the surface, but I shoved them behind the door again. Now that I had some time, the door was firmly shut and wouldn’t be opened. I made my way through the crowd to my first table.

Four guys who looked to be a little older than me watched the dancer on the stage. They were all dressed in rumpled business suits and probably worked at some big company. This was how they spent their time away from their boring nine-to-five jobs. Someone else would consider them attractive, but I’d long ago stopped seeing any man who came in here that way. I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. I was here to do a job.

“Hey, guys.” I leaned forward so I could be heard over the music. “What can I get you to drink?”

Three of them gave me their orders and quickly moved their eyes back to the show. I dressed down for that very reason. I didn’t want their gaze. I showed just enough cleavage to help me with tips. My breasts already drew enough attention I didn’t need a low-cut top.

The fourth guy didn’t seem bothered by the lack of skin showing. He had styled blonde hair and green eyes. The watch on his wrist could’ve cleared all my medical debt, and his suit was designer.

Having money wasn’t enough for me to hate a person, but his cocky presence would do it. Men with deep pockets thought the world and everyone in it belonged to them. He stared down my tank top as if my face didn’t exist. I suppressed the urge to say something. But it was part of the job, so I just ignored it.

“Is there something I can get you?” I asked again.

“Draft beer.” Deep Pockets finally looked at my face; a conceited smile tugged on his lips. He probably thought he was doing me a favor by checking me out. Like someone as sophisticated as him shouldn’t even bother with a piece of trash like me.

I moved away from their table and went to the bar to fill their orders. Precious was busy, so I grabbed the drinks myself. Once the tray was full, I walked back over to the four suits. I placed their drinks in front of them. The three guys absentmindedly handed me tips that I shoved into my pocket.

A part of me hated taking money from people like them. I knew it was my job, and I probably should’ve lost my pride long ago, but it lingered. Telling me, I could’ve been more than this.

I took a step back to move away when Deep Pockets grabbed the back of my thigh. He pulled me against him like he had every right to touch me. This was the kind of place where you couldn’t even touch the dancer, but he thought he could feel me up.

“Where are you going so fast?” His fingers started to travel up the back of my leg to cup my ass, but my hand on his wrist stopped him.

“To do my job.” I forced a smile. He might be an asshole, and I might hate it, but I needed the tips. “I’ll check on you later.”

I could hear the purr in my voice that made me want to vomit. But being friendly kept the money coming in. I was used to customers with octopus hands.

Deep Pockets smiled like he was buying my fake flirting act. I didn’t have to use it much. My modest outfits kept most guys looking the other way.

“What’s your name?” Deep Pockets asked, but he didn’t release me.

“Kitty.” I smiled again as I played along.

“Come back real soon, Kitty.” He released my leg only to bring his hand to my arm, rubbing up and down like we were lovers. “I’d love to talk more.”

I internally rolled my eyes. That guy wanted to talk as much as I did. He wanted an easy lay, and he thought he could get it from a waitress in a strip club. He’d probably forget my fake name the second I walked away.

“I’ll do that.” I said, but he still didn’t let me go.

I scanned the room, trying to find any excuse to end this conversation. If another table needed me, I could latch onto that and get away. My eyes locked with familiar blues ones. Eyes that had been in my nightmares for a week.

The blood drained from my body as his eyes narrowed in on Deep Pockets’ hand where it was touching my arm. I’d never seen such rage before. I was surprised Deep Pockets couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze. It was so intense it felt like it should be burning our skin.