It isn’t. “You sure? Because, damn, you look so fucking familiar. You a trader too? Maybe I’ve seen you around at Goldman’s or somewhere?”
“No. You haven’t.” My answer is firmer this time, and so is my glare. “Do you mind? I’m trying to have a conversation with my friend.”
“I wanna dance with you.”
“I’m not interested,” I tell him, getting exasperated.
Mel slides her hand across the table, weaving her fingers through mine. “Actually, we’re together. As in, a couple. In fact, I was about to ask this sweet girl to marry me before you walked up and ruined what was going to be a very romantic moment.”
“It’s true,” I tell him, deadpan. “We’re very much in love.”
He stares at us for a second through drunken eyes, then mutters something under his breath and lumbers off. As soon as he’s gone, we both start laughing.
Mel wiggles her brows at me. “Want to dance, sweetheart?”
“Sure. I thought you’d never ask.”
15
~ Gabriel ~
I didn’t have to ask Evelyn the name of the hot new nightclub she and her friends were planning to go tonight. There is only one place drawing record crowds in the Meatpacking District on a Sunday night, and after bypassing the line of people stretching nearly two blocks to get into Muse, I walk up to the bald behemoth standing at the door and flash my ID, along with the murmured name I know will grant me instant access.
The bouncer eyes me for a moment, sizing me up in my dark suit. If he wanted to be a dick and pat me down, he’d find I’m carrying. But he’s not worried that I’ll be a problem for anyone inside. And I’m certain if he was, there are easily a dozen guys on the other side of the door, similarly armed and ready to take me out.
Touching his earpiece and speaks into the mic in alow tone. At his nod, I head inside the packed club.
Dance music throbs and pulses, accompanied by the swirl of colored laser lights and strobes. There is hardly a square foot of breathing room to be had, nothing but bobbing, gyrating bodies filling the dance floor and spilling out to the rest of the club as well. The old warehouse space is enormous, made to appear even larger by the mirrored walls that reflect back at the crowds from all directions.
But that’s not the only purpose of the mirrors. I realize it an instant later, as a flash to my left briefly illuminates the vague silhouette of a man and woman having sex on the other side of the glass. Her hands are braced over her head while the man fucks her vigorously from behind. The shocking glimpse is there and gone in a beat, but the image was unmistakable.
And erotic enough to make my cock stir behind the zipper of my slacks.
As I push deeper into the club, all around me I see more sparks of illumination behind the mirrors, more voyeuristic, profane flashes of activity, no doubt intended to speed the pulses and incinerate the inhibitions of everyone in the place. From the way the whole building seems to vibrate with sexual energy, it seems to be working.
I spot the circular bar and head that way, figuring the central location will be the best place to search the mass of clubgoers for the only one of interest to me. The one whom, as of yesterday, it’s my paid duty to protect.
My covert duty, I remind myself with no small amount of misgiving.
Evelyn’s the sole reason I’m here tonight, and as much as I want to believe I’m just doing my job, mydetermination to find her—to see her, even if I have to stealthily observe from the fringes of a packed dance club—feels far from professionally motivated.
I wasn’t happy to hear her say she was planning to be at Muse tonight. Now, I’ve got half a mind to drag her out of here as soon as I find her.
At the bar I order a beer I have no intention of drinking, then send my gaze into the crowd to search for Evelyn while I wait. She’s hard to miss, even dressed in black like ninety-nine percent of the rest of the club.
Dancing with another young woman, an attractive redhead in white jeans and a pale blue top, Evelyn seems lost in the sensual beat of the music. Eyes closed, she sways and undulates, her hips and arms moving in fluid rhythm. Each pivot and roll of her body triggers a bolt of pure lust in me. I stare, hungry and possessive, unable to look away even for a second.
It’s crazy how much I want her. Worse than crazy; it’s negligent as hell, especially now that her life is my hands. If I am to protect her, I damn well can’t do it from between her legs.
And if there really is someone aiming to do her harm, I need to be firing on all cylinders. Vigilant, not distracted by the thought of having Evelyn beneath me.
Caught up in her own bliss, she is mesmerizing, sexy as hell. Unless I miss my guess, she also seems a little tipsy, which makes my guardian instincts rise to attention as swiftly as my baser instincts.
The bartender returns with my beer, and I as reach for some cash to pay for it, a hand comes to rest on my shoulder from behind me.
“Drink’s on the house.”
I swivel at the familiar, slightly Southern drawl ofJared Rush’s smoky voice. Standing as tall as me, Rush has a beefy build, a mane of sandy brown hair just past his shoulders and a trimmed beard framing his square jaw. Tonight, he’s dressed in a black shirt and pants, but he still carries a laid-back, rebel look that seems more suited for the rodeo circuit than the edgy, avant-garde art world where he’s made a staggering fortune on his provocative, profane, often disturbing, paintings.
