I didn’t take this job to quit when it gets tough, though. I want to see this mission through more than ever now, not just for my uncle Jeff, but also for Nix. Now that I know these criminals and thugs are nothing more than a means to an end for him, too, I’m driven to show him I’m more than just a pretty face.
He’ll never trust me again, but if I can at least earn his respect, that’s something.
The basement is busy tonight. Drinks are being poured, and deals are being discussed. Wolf sits on a leather sofa, focused on the screen of his open laptop, and several others are looking on intently. Servers circulate with trays of food, the smell of beef and spices filling the air.
Grayson is bent over a table snorting a line of coke, and Hassan forgets about everything else as soon as he sees him. He leaves my side and I let out a breath, taking things in around me without making it obvious I’m doing it.
I’m more on guard tonight because of what’s in the tiny black purse I’m carrying. Rae assigned me to plant a bug down here tonight so Greenlight can monitor everything that’s said. The Greenlight tech people did a bang-up job of concealing the bug in the end of a tube of lipstick, but I’m nervous anyway. This is the first time I’ve brought anything down here that could give away who I really am.
I head for the bar to order a drink, still taking in my surroundings, when a glance in a corner of the room stops me in my tracks.
Nix. His hand is wrapped around a glass snifter, which probably has Cognac in it. The hard bitterness I see in his eyes tugs at me. I want him to work out his anger on my body. Merciless sex would release his tension and soften him toward me.
We just stare at each other for a few seconds, his eyes still holding my full attention as he shifts in his seat. After more than three weeks of silence, I’d settle for just a conversation with him. We could talk about anything—how pissed he is at me, how his bimbo protégé is doing…Hell, I’d settle for a conversation about the weather just so I could hear his voice.
“Let’s go.” Hassan is next to me, grabbing my arm and pulling me.
I dig my feet into the floor to stop, and he jerks on my arm as he tries to keep walking.
“Let go of me,” I say, glaring at him.
“The games are over,” he says darkly. “I already told you that.”
He wraps his hand around my wrist and pulls me so hard I feel a strain in my shoulder. No one even gives us a second glance as he drags me across the room.
Shit. I don’t want to have sex with him. It’s a last resort for me, only if I have to do it to stay alive.
At least, it was before Nix. But now, the thought of Hassan inside me makes my stomach churn. That part of me belongs to Nix, whether he wants it or not.
I hate that he’s watching this thing with Hassan go down, and worse, I hate that he’s not doing anything about it. I could knock Hassan on his ass if I wanted to, but I’d blow my cover. The old Nix would have Hassan begging for mercy right now.
The ominous feeling I have gets stronger as Hassan leads me to the hallway where the vault is located. I don’t know why he’d want to take me in there for sex when there are suites upstairs with beds and couches.
“No,” I say, grabbing a door handle with my free hand to stop him from pulling me.
He just pulls harder, my wrist burning from his iron grip on it.
“I’m not some plaything, Alex. Let go of me, or I’ll scream.”
At that, he laughs. We’re halfway down the hallway now, and I’m starting to feel desperate. I plant one foot and swing my other leg up, kicking the arm he’s dragging me with. He grunts, and I get in another good kick to his stomach.
“Bitch,” he mutters.
My wrist is throbbing painfully when I manage to pull it free. I turn, planning to run like hell, but there are two men in dark suits blocking my path.
Grayson’s security guards. I’m really fucked.
Hassan grabs me around the waist and carries me toward the vault, my kicking and screaming seeming to give him some sort of sick satisfaction. One of the guards keys in a code and opens the door.
My hair is blocking my vision as Hassan tosses me to the floor. The concrete surface knocks the wind out of me, and it takes me a couple seconds to catch my breath and move my hair aside.
“You’re in for a fight,” I say, still breathless. “If you think I’m gonna let you rape me—”
I stop talking when I see Grayson looking at me from his seat on a wooden bench, where he’s giving me the same calculating look I’m used to from Hassan.
I close my eyes, the things they’re probably going to do to me making my blood run cold. Though I’ve known any day at the Loft could turn bad in a heartbeat, it feels brutal in this moment.
Still hoping for a miracle, I turn to Hassan. Surely, he’s not this ruthless. But his gaze is nothing but ice and stone.
