Duke whipped out his gun and pressed it under Baldy’s chin. “Touch her, and I’ll make it so you never walk again.”
Baldy shot a cheeky grin my way, appearing not the least bit fazed or frightened by Duke’s threat.
I touched Duke’s arm—the one not holding the weapon. “I can handle my own shit. Let him go.”
Duke hesitated as a crowd formed to use the bathroom now that the cage dancers’ show had ended.
“Duke, please,” I begged, swallowing the dryness in my throat. “You’re not a monster.” I didn’t exactly know if he was or wasn’t. The government had yet to pin murder, drugs, guns, or money laundering on Duke. Hell, anything, for that matter.
Duke finally lowered his weapon. “Don’t show yourself in this club again,” he all but growled out.
My pulse began to slow as Baldy was sucked up into the crowd.
Duke examined me. “You’re bleeding. Follow me.”
I touched my temple, feeling the wetness of blood. “It’s nothing.” I flicked my finger behind me. “I can clean it. I need to use the restroom anyway.”
“You can use the one in my place.” His offer wasn’t a suggestion but rather a demand.
I mashed my lips into a thin line, acquiescing not because he was ordering me but because my bladder was protesting to the point that if I didn’t go soon, I would definitely have an accident.
11
FALLYN
ALIAS: JOY
Afew minutes later, I found myself standing in the en suite attached to Duke’s bedroom. It was hard to believe he was allowing me into his personal space.
After taking care of my immediate needs, I washed my hands then leaned over the pristine marble sink and examined my temple. The cut wasn’t that bad. Head and facial wounds bled more, making it seem much worse than it actually was.
“I haven’t talked to Grace yet,” Duke said on the other side of the closed door.
I eavesdropped as best as I could.
A second of silence, then Duke said, “I’ll see you and Fran at Denim’s on Thanksgiving.”
If I wasn’t mistaken, Fran was the daughter of Brian McCauley.
A knock on the door startled me, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to swallow my screech.
“Joy, are you okay?” Duke’s husky voice slid over me like warm butter on freshly baked bread.
The damn guy was attacking my feminine side like a soldier at war, only in a good way. Between his beautiful face, the way he dressed like a model out ofGQ, and his raspy tone, I would be a goner if I didn’t erect my shields.
“I think I need a Band-Aid.” My voice cracked.
Fallyn, get your shit together and drop the nerves.
I shook my head like a wet dog then wiped blood off my wound.
“Can you let me in? I have a first aid kit in my hand. I don’t keep one in the bathroom.”
I’d been so consumed by my thoughts that I hadn’t even bothered to snoop in his closet or cabinet. If I didn’t start paying more attention, I could end up like my brother.
Duke raked his gaze over me when I let him in. “Sit on the counter.”
On his command, I ambled over to the sink, feeling his heated gaze on my back. My legs felt unsteady, as if his eyes were causing tremors in my body, tingles on my skin.
