“There’s a lot of security here tonight,” she says, and it isn’t an exaggeration.
I honestly don’t know how we ever thought we could pull this off.
But when I glance at Rory, my faith is restored. He is calm, steadfast, ready. The way he looks before a fight.
This is what these boys do for a living.
They fuck shit up, and they pull off impossible feats all the time. I don’t know how many jams I’ve seen them get out of in the short time I’ve known them, but one thing is for certain. Quinn’s army can’t compete with mine.
Storm and I walk to the bar, and my eyes bounce around the room while we wait for our drinks. There are a lot of drunken rich pricks here, but none of them are Quinn and Duke.
“Where are these clowns?” Storm asks.
“I don’t know.”
We drink and dance with a couple of guys who ask us before Rory cuts in. He’s been watching me from across the room, not giving anything away.
He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that they haven’t made an appearance yet, but I am.
We only have a small window of time before they get on that plane and fly off to god knows where. I don’t want to wait anymore.
This is it.
This is the golden opportunity, and if we don’t get them now, I fear that we never will.
“Smile,” Rory whispers in my ear. “Ye’re having the time of your life, baby doll. It’s the last time you’ll ever have to pretend.”
I smile. And lean into him.
For the next two minutes, it’s just us. His palm on my lower back, his other hand in mine. Rory’s a good dancer, and this doesn’t surprise me. He never half-asses anything.
He smells like sunshine and sea-breeze. And he looks like my future.
But in true Brodrick fashion, he doesn’t give me what I want.
The moment the song is over, he releases me.
“Keep after it,” he says. “It won’t be much longer now.”
Storm and I make another pass over the room and head back to the bar. But before we make it, the lights go out.
Like planned.
Only, they weren’t supposed to go out until Rory’s guys gave the signal.
A gun digs into my back and a voice whispers in my ear.
“Miss me, Ten?”
Quinn.
It’s motherfucking Quinn.
He’s still as delicate as ever, dragging me across the floor while someone else manhandles Storm too.
The room is black and pure chaos, people shouting for each other. Amongst the melee, Rory’s voice calls out for me too.
“Open your fucking mouth and she’s dead,” Quinn hisses. “But if you go quietly, we’ll let her go when we get outside.”
