Her laughter rang bright. Then she turned her focus to us.
Her gaze slid past my men, over our patches, licked the road dust on our boots, and paused on me for a heartbeat longer than casual. Not suspicious. Curious. Measuring the difference between the stories she’d heard about Devil’s Aces and the actual faces in her living room over the years. It had been years since I’d seen her last.
Roman saw her curious look.
“You’re too good for bikers,” he told her, dry.
I huffed. “He’s right,” I said. “I’ve known you since diapers. I wouldn’t let any of my men within ten feet of you.”
Gianna arched a brow. “MaybeIwouldn’t let any of your men within ten feet of me,” she shot back.
Mirage made a strangled sound behind me. Snake Eyes coughed to hide a laugh.
Donatella stepped in then, smooth. “Alice,” she said, turning her attention fully on me. “Been a while. To what pleasure do we owe this visit?”
“Just some business,” I said. “Nothing more.”
“Mhmm.” Her smile said she didn’t believe that for asecond, but knew better than to push here. “Well. Try not to bleed on the furniture. It’s new.”
Gianna snorted and drifted off toward the hallway, phone already in hand, bags swinging. Donatella moved to Roman’s side, low-voicing with him in a way that said this part of their conversation was no longer for us.
Roman gave a glance and a nod to me before returning his attention to Donatella.
With that, we were escorted back toward the elevator. The guards’ guns were holstered now, but their eyes remained the same. Waiting. Watching. Ready.
Vespiano appeared at my side with the gun case then.
“Your toys,” he said.
He popped it open. Our pistols lay in the foam, every barrel still pointed away from us. We each took ours back, checked chambers out of habit more than suspicion, and holstered them.
“Thank your boss for not making us feel naked,” I said.
Vespiano smirked. “He likes you dressed. Naked men bleed too loud.”
We shared no more words as the elevator arrived and we each stepped in.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I glanced back one last time.
Roman stood with Donatella at hisshoulder, face half turned toward Vladimir at the bar. It wasn’t a long look. Not overt. Just a sideways cut of his gaze that slid over Vladimir like the edge of a knife.
Vladimir caught it. His smile didn’t change. But I could see, even from here, that he’d noticed being weighed.
The doors closed.
As we started down, Mirage let out a breath he’d been holding.
“Well,” he said. “We’re not dead.”
“Yet,” Spade added.
I rolled my shoulders. They ached like I’d been carrying something all day.
We had walked into another man’s den disarmed and outnumbered and walked back out with our hearts still beating. That felt like a win.
It didn’t feel like safety.
We hadn’t dodged the bullet. We’d just agreed to carry it a little while longer.
