Chapter 32
LOCKE
My eyes stay glued to the screens in front of Tiernan and me from the moment I notice him get up from that table and cut across the room. Luke Holloway. Sauntering over to her like he owns this casino and everything in it.
The kind of swagger that screams trouble and expensive grooming habits. A smug grin plastered on his face as he boldly strikes up a conversation. I can’t even watch him talk to her without wanting to rip his throat out. The rest of the casino is just a static hum on the monitors. A glittering blur of people who think this is just another night. They have no idea that they’re sitting next to a monster.
In Hollywood, rumors go around quicker than in a high school hallway, and none of the stories I’ve heard about Luke are good. Tales of his parties border on urban legend, because no one leaves with proof. Phones are confiscated at the door. There are whispers of underage girls being invited in, used as disposable playthings. Arden was horrified by what she saw, and I don’t blame her.
I used to get invited, requested even. That was before Luke made a hobby out of targeting people I love. We’ve been on opposite sides of the line for too long now.
They sit together, playing blackjack and casually flirting for what seems like an eternity. Watching her go through the motions; smiles, giggles, the little rehearsed tilt of her head. It’s supposed to make him think he’s in control, but it breaks me in ways I simply refuse to acknowledge right now.
He keeps inching closer. Seeing how far he can get with her in such a public space. He rests his hand on the back of her chair, a casual motion, and waits. She leans in close again, laughing at some corny joke. Perfectly playing the part of a woman who’s charmed.
Then, he inches his fingers down to her thigh. My jaw tightens, because I know he won’t stop there. Tiernan notices the change in my posture, slowing his typing to study the monitor, but he doesn’t speak. There’s nothing I’d love more than to go down there and give Luke what he actually deserves. Not smiles and flirty banter, but something much more painful.
Forty-five minutes in, and Luke keeps testing boundaries like a man on credit. He leans in close and whispers something in her ear. Thank fuck for microscopic earpieces and microphones. I hear it perfectly. “Loser buys the next round?” When he pulls back, I see the look he’s giving her. His mouth is smiling, but his eyes are hollow. Dead.
Then Arden wins, and I know what’s coming before he even opens his mouth. The invitation that’ll get her through his door. Luke stands close and extends his arm to her. They move toward the elevator like a picture-perfect couple on a date.
My hands curl around the chairback I’m no longer sitting in. Everything outside this camera feed feels irrelevant; my world narrows to that elevator and the hallway camera, and to the hollow feeling behind my ribs whenever she smiles at him.
She’s a pro; she knows how to push men like him just far enough to be irresistible. But “far enough” is a dangerous line, and I measure it through the minor changes in his face: the slackening at his mouth, the hollow in his gaze when he thinks no one sees.
“Watch your back; we’re here if you need us.” I croak into my mic. They’re the first words I’ve spoken in almost an hour. I know she can’t respond, but as they enter the elevator, I notice her shoot a glance at the camera in the corner. The words hang there. Half promise, half warning. Because saying them gives me the illusion of action.
“We’ll lose visibility when they get in that room,” Tiernan warns me. My heart skips a beat, but I knew this was coming. “The elevatoris covered, the hall up to Luke’s door is filmed, but beyond that no video feeds.” I give him a quick nod.
In the hallway, we have a narrow view of them as they approach Luke’s door. The room is thick with the kind of silence that presses in and threatens to suffocate you. Arden finds the camera and gives one more tiny, almost-hidden look before she lets him unlock the door. That small, careful motion steadies me more than I should admit. I tell myself that’s enough. I tell myself she knows what she’s doing.
Before Luke opens the door, I unclench my jaw just enough to get out the words, “If anything feels off, get out. I’ll handle the rest.” It’s a risk I haven’t and wouldn’t offer to anyone else.
They disappear into the suite, and every second stretches even further. I let out a breath between trembling lips. I am not built to watch and wait; I’m built to move. But I stay. I sit. I listen to anything I can catch on the other end of my earpiece, the scratch of a chair, a laugh that feels much too light for the occasion.
Tiernan’s breath, and continued typing, anchors me like a distant wave. I let the heat pool and burn in my chest until the impulse to go down there and tear everything apart is something I can feel aching in my bones.
The thing about waiting is that it gives you time to think. The longer I don’t move, the more certain I become of two truths, one ugly and one stubbornly protective. Ugly: men like Luke get worse when given silence. Protective: Arden is not a thing to be saved; she’s a person to be trusted and backed up only when necessary. Both truths hurt.
I turn, staring out the window of our temporary headquarters. Struggling to catch every crackling word Arden speaks. Just to make sure she’s okay. I’m just a man doing my best to guard what I swore I’d protect, even as fear claws at me, urging me to put an end to the whole job right here. But if the worst of my nightmares comes out to play, walking away won’t be an option for either of us. He made themistake of thinking she was just another trophy; I’ll make sure it’s the last mistake he ever makes.
Chapter 33
ARDEN
Walking into the suite, I almost can’t believe my eyes. Even Locke’s wasn’t this extravagant. I can see why these are set aside for the most elite players. I stop just inside the doorway to take in the view. Unfortunately, the floor-to-ceiling windows aren’t what catch my attention first. Sienna Vale sits perched on the curved leather couch, a light pink cocktail in hand and a look of pure venom on her face.
“Luke, honey,” she purrs, her eyes raking over my red lace dress with practiced disdain. “I thought we agreed on no strays tonight.”
Luke chuckles, heading toward the bar. “Don’t be jealous, Sienna. I’m sure you remember Locke’s little shadow from the gala.” He turns to me again. “Arden, was it?”
My pulse throbs, but I keep my expression a smooth, unfazed mask. “It’s really a small town, Sienna,” I say, sliding onto a barstool at the far end of the bar, away from her. “It's hard not to bump into familiar faces.”
I do my best to case the suite without looking too suspicious. I don’t know why I bother, honestly; there are no emergency exits. There’s a balcony, but jumping would be a death sentence. I see hallways on either side of me that lead to more rooms, but the only way out is the door we just walked through.
The most interesting part of this place is a human-sized birdcage with a swing inside, sitting front and center. Part of me is curious enough to want to sit on it, but I’m not stupid enough to put myself in the position of getting locked in a cage by these two lunatics right now.
I note Luke’s laptop sitting on the bar, still open from whatever he was doing before the lounge; he’s making this far too easy.
