I already got asked if I was lost by a little person clown last night, and let me tell you—his height made him no less frightening. I made my excuses and high-tailed it back to the neon lights.
Too unsettled to continue exploring or enjoy the carnival, I went back to my bike and home for the night. But when I closed my eyes in the shower, it was that ringmaster I saw. Tall and broad-shouldered, cold and intimidating. So much fucking charisma. My hands started to wander even as I asked myself what my malfunction was, and when I came, gasping for a man whose name I don’t even know, my knees almost buckled.
I thought I had outgrown celebrity crushes in my adolescence.But here I am, breathless as I enter the Seven Sins Carnival, the lights less bright before true nightfall, the atmosphere only just getting that edge of mystery that real darkness brings with it.
Carnival workers nod and smile at me, and I realize that in my eagerness to start digging, I arrived way too early to be inconspicuous. But I was staring at my monitor and the document I barely added any text to, feeling like I was wasting time. I hate wasting time.
My rumbling stomach reminds me that I barely ate, too nervous to think about food. Thankfully, the food stalls are already set up and manned. Now I just have to decide what artery-clogging delight I want to eat first.
I skip past the cotton candy and deep-fried Twinkies—I’m not a fan of sweet snacks, with a few notable exceptions. No funnel cakes, no caramel apples, no snow cones for me. Corn dogs and popcorn won’t hit the spot right now, so I skip past those stands and knock on the counter of a Western-style booth for a pulled pork sandwich.
I’m wiping the corner of my mouth after devouring my meal when a shadow falls over me. I feel a warm body at my side, just as the smell of an April rain shower chases away the oppressive miasma of grease.
“You came back,” a smooth voice says next to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. It sounds slightly different when he’s not addressing a crowd under the spotlight, but I still recognize the velvety caress of it against my senses, the innate charisma.
“I didn’t think you noticed me,” I reply, surprised I’m managing to keep my voice steady after masturbating to thoughts of him. Biting my lower lip, I turn my head and look up at Seven Sins’ ringmaster. This close, I see his eyes are the palest gray. I feel like he can see into my soul, quietlyjudging it. But between the two of us, I’m not the criminal. Or rather, a probable criminal.
Scratch that—a likely criminal. No one that wickedly handsome is innocent.
“You’re impossible to miss,” the ringmaster says with a low rumble. He tilts his chin, indicating my hair, and I nervously run my fingers through the short blue strands, hating that he makes me feel self-conscious. “I’m Elias, by the way,” he adds.
My brows hike up before I can stop them, but I give him my best-practiced smile. So, he’s Elias Vale, the name that popped up the most on any documents I managed to uncover. Good to know.
I turn fully in his direction, admiring how tall he is. I’m nearly six feet myself, so having to look up at him? Too sexy for my peace of mind.
“Jules,” I say with a purr, extending my hand. “Come here often?”
The cheesy line manages to break the unreadable mask his face was set in. His lips twitch up, his eyes crinkle at the corners, and when his hand touches mine, I have to swallow back a needy moan.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, this man is like a hit of pure cocaine—something I haven’t had since my time with the Wicked Sinners MC. And I bet he’s just as addictive.
Dangerous, Jules. This is dangerous with a capital D.
Our connection is broken by a carnival worker shouting from the carousel. “Boss,” the mechanic says, shaking his wrench like a threat at the gods. His face is covered in grease, making his frown almost comical. “I’m about to have Logan set this thing on fire.”
Elias’s hand squeezes my palm reflexively as a muscle in his jaw ticks with obvious displeasure.
“Excuse me,” he says softly. “I need to teach my worker how not to behave in front of an audience.”
A chill skitters across the back of my neck at the cold, dangerous way he says the words. If I were that mechanic, I’d run for the woods. Because it definitely sounded like a threat.
“That’s okay. Duty calls, I get it.” I laugh under my breath and try to extricate my hand from his grip. But he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he tilts his head, studying me with a raw intensity that almost makes me squirm under his gaze.
“Why don’t you meet me after the main show?” he murmurs for my ears only. “I’d love to show you my favorite rides.”
I look up at him from under my lashes. Something tells me his favorite rides leave a girl gasping for breath. I roll my lips together, debating. On one side, spending time with the Seven Sins ringmaster is a sure way to uncover information I can sell in a story. On the other hand, my attraction to him is a… dangerous liability.
“Alright,” I finally agree with a wink. Let it never be said that Jules Beck didn’t go all out for a story.
“Perfect,” he murmurs. With one last sweep of his thumb over my palm, he lets me go and strides toward the carousel and the waiting mechanic. He’s not wearing his heavy cloak yet, so I admire the sight of his firm ass and broad shoulders. But they’re swallowed by a passing group just as Elias grabs the mechanic’s arm to pull him behind the ride.
Gulping, I turn back to my soda. I grab it and twist the cap, wishing it were something a hell of a lot stronger.
I had already planned to see the main tent’s show tonight, as I missed a lot of it yesterday. But now I’m full of nervous anticipation, both looking forward to it ending—and afraid of it.
5
ELIAS
