He hums, tapping his thumb on the bar. “So you really loved him then?”
“I never said I loved Kincaid.”
“Neither did I.” Soul’s smile climbs up his cheeks, and it’s like he sees straight through me, so I look away.
I glance at my beer, swirling the final splash around. I might never have loved Kincaid, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love his brother. And as messed up as it sounds, that’s exactly why I couldn’t choose Dean.
“I like you, Willa,” Soul says, dragging my attention back to him. “But you fuck with my brother’s heart again, and I won’t hesitate to drive you back to Texas myself. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He taps his beer against mine, taking a drink as he stands. “I’ve gotta pull some data for Ghost. You all right at the bar for a little while?”
“I survived your interrogation, didn’t I?”
“With flying colors, sweetheart.” He laughs, walking away.
His threat should probably scare me, but it doesn’t. I’m glad Dean has someone like Soul in his life. Real friends who are looking out for him, when I know he rarely looks out for himself. People back home always wanted something out of Dean or avoided him because they thought he was too much trouble. At least his club appreciates him enough to protect him. He’s always looking out for others. He deserves that in return.
Soul walks away, and I stay sitting at the bar, glancing around the club.
It’s much busier than it was the last time I was here, but it’s also later at night. Sapphire Rise is nicer than any strip club I’ve seen—even if those were only in movies. I’d never been to one until I came to Vegas. There aren’t strip clubs in Lanceleaf.
Sapphire Rise has an upscale aesthetic. Women dance in expensive lingerie. The bar is well-kept. It’s clean. Classy. Purposefully decorated.
Everyone who works here seems friendly. When I arrived, Brandy stopped to have a whole conversation with me and Aimee. If it weren’t for my jealousy flaring over Dean disappearing with the blonde, I wouldn’t necessarily despise her.
“This seat taken?” A man with a blinding grin stops next to me.
One glance tells me everything I need to know about him. His outfit is purposely put together to show off his wealth, and his attention is more on my chest than my eyes. He’s looking at me like he expects more than he’s going to get, and the brazenness of his gaze is uncomfortable.
“Nope.” I turn away slightly, making room for him.
Still, he finds a way to sit too close, brushing his leg against mine.
“Sorry.” He smiles, clearly not sorry at all. “Can I get you another one?”
“I’m all set.” I tip my beer up, showing him I still have some left.
“What about something else?” His hand slides onto my leg, and when I start to pull back, he grips tighter.
His fingers dig through my fishnets, and my heart races. One moment, I’m looking into the guy’s smug face. The next, he’s being pulled away from me.
Dean has him by the neck, shoving him back a step. “Keep your hands off the women in my fucking club.”
“Whoa, sorry, man.” He holds his hands up. “I think you misunderstood. She’s not a stripper. She’s fair game.”
“Fair game?” Dean’s voice is deathly low.
Too low for how loud it is in here.
And his eyes are calm.
Too calm and promising violence.
One second, he’s so still it’s like time has frozen, the next he’s a hurricane, and all hell breaks loose.
Dean slams his fist into the guy’s nose, shattering it. Blood spurts everywhere. He reaches for a knife, not hesitating or considering the fact that we’re in a room full of people. Thankfully, a burly man with a thick beard stops him from planting the blade in the guy’s chest.
