“You’re fine,” I assured him. “I’m right here.”
He scanned the room like a hunted thing. The crowd was thicker now. Drunken laughter, glittering lights, and the twang of a guitar solo announced the twins taking the stage. We were traveling upstream, fighting the arriving guests who cast curious looks our way. Thankfully, they were as eager to get in as we were to get out and didn’t pause to question.
At least,Iwas eager to get out. Zephyr, in contrast, had washed pale while shrinking inside my suit jacket and looking increasingly like a man being led to the gallows.
I readied myself to offer further reassurance when Colette’s voice cracked like a whip above the noise.
“Excusez-moi!”
She barreled through a part in the crowd, blazing past Zephyr and me on her way toward the congested entry. I assumed she’d been dealing with security already, as I’d intended for her to chat the bouncers up or entice them with a bit of harmless flirtation. What I did not expect was for her to stop in the thick of the mob and wave a champagne flute like a flag, sloshing bubbly liquid onto the floor.
“Where is the manager?” she demanded, causing the bouncers and everyone else in range to take notice. “I have a complaint to file!”
The mention of the manager had Zephyr poised to bolt, but I tightened my grip.
“Don’t look,” I advised him. “Just move.”
“But…” His protest was drowned by Colette carrying on.
“This isnotDom Pérignon. You serve this piss water to paying guests?” She tossed the glass over her shoulder, where it shattered on the tile with a dramatic crack.
The bouncers were moving now. One abandoned the queue and left his buddy to manage the patrons growing annoyed or maybe just interested in the flamboyant French woman causing a stir.
The crowd inside shifted, forming a ring around the unfolding scene and driving Zephyr and me to the outer edge of it. With a prompting tug, I steered us toward the exit, cutting toward the narrow gap of unguarded doorway.
“Mon dieu,” Colette groaned at the bouncer standing in front of her looking like he’d been tasked with disarming a bomb. She gave her high ponytail a flip. “I did notrise from the Reign of Terror to ingest bourgeois nonsense in a crystal flute.”
As we neared the open air, I thought Zephyr would balk again, but he stayed pressed against me as we passed the velvet ropes and exited into the night.
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Beck
We were out, and what should have been a mundane occurrence felt monumental. I glanced over at Zephyr as he exhaled, and I wondered how long he’d been holding his breath.
His head turned one way and then the other, jaw slack and round eyes reflecting the Strip’s rainbow of lights. He slowed to a stop as he surveyed the sights I’d long gone blind to. To me they were expected, unimpressive, but my fellow Vegas resident viewed them with the awe of a tourist.
While he gawked, I kept my grip on his hand. Not because I feared he’d retreat or get lost on the short trip to the limousine but because it felt nice to hold him. And to have him hold me back with his fingertips denting the skin behind my knuckles.
His inspection ended on the club’s exterior, where his sense of amazement took a darker turn. “It looks so much bigger than it feels,” he murmured.
The admission sparked more questions, but it didn’t feel right to voice them here. Besides the risk of being spotted by the bouncers when they recovered from Colette’s distraction, Zephyr would likely be more forthcoming once we were in the quiet capsule of the limo.
After a lingering moment, I prompted him onward. “This way.”
The pulse of music faded behind us, dimming as we crossed the crowded lot. When we came alongside the Lincoln, I released Zephyr long enough to tug open the back door. The interior lights illuminated the car’s tufted bench seat, mirrored ceiling, and long, narrow windows.
“You’re welcome to get in, or we can stick with just the lot.” I indicated the open space all around. As silly as I would feel sitting on the hood of the Lincoln or standing on the asphalt while the day’s heat seeped in through my shoe soles, I’d told him he needn’t go further than this. Then he’d taken my hand, and that made it a deal. Not one I would break.
Zephyr wrapped the suit coat snugly around himself and cast a glance back toward the club’s exterior. Then he drew a steeling breath and considered the limo’s open door.
“You wanted to go somewhere private.” He nodded toward it. “I think this counts.”
A pleased smile split my lips. “After you.”
He clambered in and scooted down the bench seat to the long side. I followed and pulled the door shut, then settled myself to see him sitting straight-backed with his hands under his thighs. The wet bar’s multicolor glow highlighted the bare skin of his chest where the suit coat gapped down his front.
