“Has she made any enemies at the boutique? Former employees, current colleagues who might have a beef with her—either real or imagined?”
Beck shakes his head. “I don’t know. Shit. You’re serious. You really think she’s in some kind of danger.”
I hold his stark gaze. “I think it would be foolish to assume she’s not. Right now, though, the only basis I have for that is my gut.”
He blows out a slow breath, concern rankling his brow. “Your gut is good enough for me.”
Nick gives a nod of agreement. “Good enough forme too.”
“All right,” I say, starting to put a plan together in my head. “I can tap one of my brothers to put a cop on her. It can’t hurt to put one on the shop for a while too.”
Beck scoffs. “Christ, no. She’ll never go for that. It’s bad enough that she thinks I’m an overbearing pain in the ass. If I put a babysitter on her, she’ll only push back harder than ever. It might be enough to lose her for good, and I can’t risk that.”
“She wouldn’t need to know. It could be totally covert, just another pair of eyes to make sure she’s protected.”
Nick’s dark head bobs as I speak. “He’s right, Beck. And I agree with you that bringing in law enforcement when all we’ve got is a hunch would either scare Evelyn or make her rebel. If we’re going to keep a covert eye on her, it needs to be someone she trusts. Someone we trust explicitly too.” That shrewd blue gaze that has helped Nick negotiate impossible deals all over the world now levels meaningfully on me. “The only question is, are you up for the job?”
“Me?” Ah, fuck. It wasn’t my intention to enlist for this job.
I glance at Beck, hoping to see the same misgiving I’m feeling. But all I see in his face is hope, even desperation. I see a determination that’s not going to take no for an answer, even if I were inclined to turn down his request.
“I realize it’s asking a lot, Gabe. But there’s no one else I’d trust to keep her safe.”
My denial is perched on the end of my tongue. Hell, I’ve got plenty of reasons to decline, not the least of which being the eager way my cock responds to the ideaof spending more time around Evelyn.
I know I can keep her safe better than anyone else. That’s not a brag; it’s a fact. A promise I’ve already made to myself, if not her brother.
I know I can protect Evelyn from any threat—even if it means protecting her to my dying breath.
What I’m not sure of is how I’m going to accomplish any of that without ending up in her bed.
14
~ Evelyn ~
Dance music pounds so hard in Club Muse, I feel it vibrating through every bone in my body.
Even for a Sunday night, the massive converted warehouse in the Meatpacking District is stuffed to the rafters, with a line of people snaking around the block. If not for Paige knowing the bouncer from another club she used to frequent in Brooklyn, she and Melanie and I might still be waiting outside instead of staking our claim on a tall cocktail table near the dance floor.
With her choppy black pixie haircut, knockout body, and stunning face, Paige’s magazine-perfect looks alone have always opened doors wherever she goes. Tonight, my fellow former model has wrapped all her assets in a black leather miniskirt and backless silver top that’s been turning heads ever since we arrived about an hour ago.
I opted for black too. My dress is sleeveless and simple, hitting just above my knees with a zipper running down the front of it. Mel’s the only spot of color in our little group. Her fiery red hair gleams like copper in the swirling lights and strobes of the club, her pale blue silk blouse and skinny white jeans seeming almost innocent amid the sea of black and flashy metallics. Although she’s never stepped foot on a runway or in front of a fashion photographer’s lens, Mel’s got a fresh-faced, girl-next-door beauty that belies the terrible hardships of her upbringing.
Paige downs the dregs of her fourth Cosmo, dancing where she stands. “Isn’t this place amazing?”
Melanie and I nod, both of us having almost given up on talking over the din of the music and the crush of bodies all around us. The energy is infectious, though, and it’s hard not to get swept up in the throbbing dance beats and the dizzying spectacle of the lights and special effects.
Muse is a feast for the senses, and an unapologetically erotic one at that. Nearly every wall is a mirror, from the ground level to the gallery overlooking the dance floor below. The effect makes the club seem to stretch on toward infinity, replication after replication of dancing bodies and sparking, colorful lights.
Intermittently, in varying places around the club, the mirrors flash with a backlight, silhouetting moving shapes of human bodies that seem to live behind the reflective glass. Some of the shapes are dancing, some of them are engaged in BDSM and sex acts. It’s impossible to catch more than a glimpse of any one vignette before it’s gone, the light doused and the mirror reflecting back on the rest of the pulsing club.
“Do you think it’s real?” I ask Melanie, leaning toward her as Paige turns away from us, losing herself in the rhythm of the deejay’s latest track.
Mel shakes her head, chewing on the straw that came in her soda. “Can’t be real, right?”
Since she started back at university last year, Melanie doesn’t drink. Tonight, I’m glad for that, because Paige has been making sure the drinks have been nonstop since we sat down. She raises her voice to be heard over the din of the music and conversation all around us. “I mean the name of the club is Muse, so maybe that’s just part of the game. Erotic illusions meant to inspire a sense of freedom and abandon. Or to tempt with the possibility of it existing just outside the grasp of us mere mortals on the wrong side of the glass.”
I grin at her, more than a little tipsy, and take the final swig of my martini. “You and your big sexy brain, Mel. I hope Daniel appreciates that you’re not only gorgeous but smart as hell too.”
