I don’t own guns, and I picture Thea making some sly remark about Batman not having any either, but right now, I wish I did. Even if it was only to prompt my driver to move faster. He slogs along in Friday night traffic, and every time he brakes, the urge to throttle the loyal man is unrelenting.
I need to get to the Market. I need to get to her.
When Knox called me from the security room yesterday, telling me the girls were beating her, I immediately called Graves and spun some line about how she was an asset, and if she got severely injured or worse, died, he’d lose out on money. He relented and said Knox could take her to a secure room for the night. To hell with my plans. If I have any hope of saving her from this life, I need to get her out of Chicago, out of Illinois. If Vaughan is sent to hunt her down—I shiver. Out of the country wouldn’t be far enough. I might be able to persuade him otherwise, but his loyalty to Graves is for an entirely different reason.
My driver pulls into the parking garage and lets me out at the elevator. Security is on the ground level of the garage, and Kenji exits from the inconspicuous door as I wait to head underground. Knox follows out him out.
“Slade!” Kenji calls out.
I press the button again. I don’t want to socialize. I need to hurry and get to Thea.
He strides over, hair pulled back in a ponytail, the dragon tattoo swallowing his flexing neck as he watches me push the button again. He chuckles. “Slade’s got a crush and suddenly his best buds don’t matter anymore. It’s a sad world we live in.”
I roll my eyes while Knox shoves a palm between his shoulder blades. “Give him a break,” he says.
“I don’t need your defense. I need to get down there.” I press the button again.
“You know, it doesn’t matter how many times you press it. It’s not going to move any faster.” Kenji grins, and I want to punch him in the damn throat.
He’s got a point. I need to get a hold of myself. If I roll into the club all desperate and demanding, it’ll just make everyone pay attention to me and my bid tonight.
“She was fine last I checked,” Knox says. “I checked on her in the prep room, and she’s a little bruised up, but they’re doing what they do best.”
Kenji snorts. “Sure you don’t want to be a member, Knox? Between Slade and I, you’re as good as in.”
“Don’t have one of those fancy last names, asshole.” Knox smiles at me, as if he’s empathetic to my need to get to Thea.
A door opens, security again, and Kenji and I watch a dark-haired woman in jeans and a T-shirt run out of it. My brow furrows, and Kenji just shakes his head. Knox’s back is toward the door, but Kenji points. “Isn’t that yours?”
Knox spins around. “Shit!” Then he takes off, yelling at her as his footsteps echo hers in the looming quiet. They both disappear into the darkness of the parking garage as the door to the elevator finally opens. I dart in, pressing the level for the cluband verifying my credentials. As the door slides shut, Kenji’s hand darts in, and it pauses, opening again.
“Coming down?” I ask impatiently.
“Nah, I have … stuff to do. Just wanted to say … Whatever you need, DuPont, don’t hesitate to use that sexy voice of yours, okay?” He winks at me, but there’s a seriousness in his tone, an understanding.
I nod, pressing the button again, and his lips pinch together as he steps away and allows the door to shut. The descent is brutal, but when the door dings, I roll my shoulders and go through the second level of security measures to enter the club.
“Welcome, Congressman DuPont,” the feminine voice says. “It’s been a while.”
I snort. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for Thea being taken back. Is this going to be her life now? I get stolen moments with her, twelve hours instead of weeks or months, while she’s relegated to underground quarters and treated no better than an animal.
I won’t allow it.
The club is brimming when I enter, and there’s a subtle shift in posture. Many in the club tilt their heads in my direction when I cross the threshold. They’re either on the lookout for me to do something out of character like last time, or they’re sizing up just how far I may go tonight. For her.
Music pulses around me, and the air is soaked with perfume from the dancers.
I recognize some senators and powerful businessmen from Florida, who must be visiting from the Miami chapter. They’re leaned back against the bar with drinks lax in their hands. Every heavy-lidded and greedy pass over the women around them makes my stomach lurch.
The scene is foreign after my time away with Thea. Yes, I was in D.C. and crawling in the pit of scum there too, but this … Icrave the bubble I created with her—pajamas, comics, movies, Frosted Flakes. Seemingly innocent touches on the dock, her confiding in me, and I in her. It’s all tainted by the depraved festering around me. A Supreme Court clerk laughs into the ear of a well-known cartel member. A CEO slips a small white bag into a senator’s palm.
Unbothered.
Unchecked.
They flaunt their immunity, indulge in it.
A dancer slides up beside me, her finger trailing down the front of my suit, yet I don’t flinch. I look past her, finding my grandfather sitting with the Eight, his drink of amber liquid raised at me. He smirks and takes a long sip while the dancer whispers something in my ear that I don’t pay attention to. The wrinkles around his mouth crease when he purses his lips to take in his drink. He holds my gaze, and it’s less mentor grandfather and more the competitive congressman.
