Page 4 of Bad Wolf

She screams money and sex.

I’d like her flat on her back wearing only those earrings and nothing more. Maybe the heels. Yeah, they could stay. The way the gold leather wraps around her ankle makes my dick twitch.

Her gaze roves over me. Eye fucking me with abandon. Oh yeah, she wants me. That much is clear. But the night is young, and I should… What am I even saying? I laugh out loud and down the rest of my drink.

“I’m going in,” I say to no one, but Hollywood catches on real fast, reading my mind and following my gaze. He hops right up when he sees the two women, leading the way out of the bedlam.

We make our way toward the two women. Charm dialed up to eleven. This isn’t our first rodeo. I’m usually his wingman and he, mine.

Hollywood goes in strong. “Evening ladies, we’d like to buy you a drink.”

The brunette’s eyes darken and the other one giggles.

“We have table service,” she says matter-of-factly. She’s trying to play hard to get, even though it was her blatant staring that has us over here.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t buy two beautiful women a drink now, does it?” I say.

She smiles seductively and tips her head toward me, “Vodka soda. For both of us, thanks.”

“As you wish,” I say, flashing them the smile I know incinerates panties, and head back over to the bar.

My cock stirs in my pants as I envisage all the filthy, depraved things I could do with that woman.

I’m craving some balcony action. That’s always hot. Or maybe—

“Bro, we’re moving on. Wanna hit a few bars before the main event,” Casey says cutting in beside me.

Over his shoulder, I see Theo laughing hard over something and I remember why we’re here.

Tonight is all about him. My Cousin. And there’s plenty more pussy to be found.

I make sure the bartender knows who the drinks are for and ask him to deliver them to the sexy woman’s table, dropping a hundred in the tip jar. I turn around to see Hollywood being pulled away by Callan.

“Hey maybe the dancers will want to party after the show,” Hollywood says as he catches up to me, obviously up to speed on tonight’s plans.

“We can only hope, Wood. We can only hope.” I could go for a dancer.

My mind flits back to a time when I had a little dancer. A little bird who couldn’t sit still.

That old scar tweaks again and I shake the memory away.

CHAPTERTWO

WREN

Miami.The Magic City. The place where you go to feel alive. Where the fun never stops, and the night never seems to end. World-class beaches, year-round warm weather, Cuban sandwiches, and over-the-top nightlife make ittheplace to be.

Girls’ nights, boys’ nights, bachelor parties, and birthday weekends—we’ve got everything covered. It’s sleek, it’s rich, and above all else, Drake friggin’ loves it here.

But it’s the greatest illusion of all, because in actuality, it’s a fucking shit hole.

It’s sleazy. It’s dirty. It’s dangerous. And I fucking hate it. I hate everything about it.

“Hey, Raven? Quit talking to yourself and hogging the mirror.” I roll my eyes at Chrissy’s bitchy tone and the fact that we only have five mirrors to share between us—it’s a joke. I resume spreading the final layer of lip glue I was applying, flipping the lid to the glitter pot that’s ready and waiting. I’ve gone for a shade of red tonight that’s so bright, if you stare at it for too long, it makes you go all squinty.

Also, just so you know, my real name is not Raven, it’s Wren. See what I did there? Apparently, Wren isn’t a sexy enough name for the dicks who run this upscale burlesque club.

The Raven is my favorite poem of all time. Plus, I’ve got black hair, and I’m actually named after a bird, so I didn’t have to search long for a pseudonym.