Doesn't matter now. The tracker is installed and the plan is already moving.
After our conversation where I put the possibility of being with someone else between us, I let her believe I was heading to The Body Shop for a repeat performance with a regular. I saw the twitch at the corner of her eye when I mentioned it. That tiny, jagged spark of jealousy was all the confirmation I needed.
She’ll be there. I know she will. That twitch told me everything.
Blitz takes my original phone without a lot of questions, which is why he's the right man for this.
“You sure about this, brother?” he asks, weighing my phone in his hand like a grenade.
“Fuck yeah. Tonight, I’m catching my stalker and I’m claiming my woman.”
His mouth pulls into something between a grin and a warning. "After this, she comes clean to the club. I'm done sitting on it."
“Heard, man. Appreciate the assist,” I tell him. I can feel the adrenaline starting to coat my nerves. “If I’m right, she won’t move until she thinks I’m almost there. She’ll be sneaky, trying to find a vantage point. Something tells me she’s hit her limit with this charade, too. She’s going to try to interrupt whatevershe thinks I’m doing inside. You ride ahead, I'll follow and keep eyes on her tracker. We meet at The Body Shop, you tuck my phone in one of the back rooms. She won't be looking for me watching her. When she walks in, I close in."
Blitz shakes his head slowly, that maniacal grin spreading wide. "Shit's about to get real interesting between you two, yeah?"
I laugh back, tossing my leg over the seat of my bike and feeling the familiar rumble of the engine between my thighs as I fire up my engine. “Better buckle up, brother. Something tells me life with her is about to be pure fucking chaos.”
Blitz grins at me over his shoulder. "And you're going to love every damn second of it."
“Absofuckinglutely.”
I trail Blitz through the dark, curving roads that lead into the city, keeping a sharp eye on the little red dot on my screen. She started moving minutes ago, and she’s closing the distance fast, fueled by that jagged spike of jealousy I planted. We’re pushing the limit, cutting it close. I just hope to hell we have enough time to get the phone positioned before she breaches the perimeter.
The Body Shop is a sea of chrome and neon, the lot choked with cars and motorcycles. If it weren't for the designated spots for the club, I’d be burning daylight looking for a place to put the bike. The tracker pulses, nearly overlapping my own position as I kill the kill-switch and vault off the seat.
A low, dark laugh pulls from my chest. Anticipation is zipping through my nervous system like a live wire. I reach into my side bag and pull out the mask, twirling it around my finger. Blitz catches the movement and just shakes his head, a grin tugging at his mouth.
I’m finally starting to understand the high Marigold gets from the shadows. The hunt. The anonymity. I should have been doing this from day one.
"Holy fuck, brother." I slap Blitz on the shoulder as we cross the lot. "You feel that thrill?"
“Can’t say that I do,” he replies, pulling open the heavy entrance door. “That’s all you.”
The deep, rib-shaking bass ofPour It Uphits us like a physical wall as we step inside. The air is thick with expensive perfume, sweat, and the metallic tang of the poles. On stage, Candy is a blur of motion, her hips working the steel as if it were a lover. Her rainbow hair sweeps the floor as she arches back, offering a glistening view to the front row. Out of old habit, my eyes skim over her, but they don’t linger. I have zero interest in what’s on display tonight. I’m hunting a specific kind of chaos.
Blitz stops me, his hand heavy on my shoulder as he hands me my original phone. “Change of plans. Take this, your mask, and get your ass to the room Tessa reserved for you. I’ll run interference and track your woman when she walks in.”
Fucking hell.
My cock kicks hard behind the denim of my jeans at the wicked scenarios that flood my brain. I flash him a dark smile and swap burners with him so he can monitor her tracker.
Blitz laughs, shooing me off. “Go. I’ll text you a thumbs up when she’s nearing the door.”
Tessa shoots me a wink as I brush past the VIP lounge, and I lift my chin in a silent thank-you. I slip into the private room, the heavy door clicking shut behind me, instantly dulling the roar of the club. The harsh white overheads are off, leaving the room bathed in a deep, bleeding red light. It’s a landscape of shadows, but as I take in the velvet couch swallowed by the dark, a slow, predatory grin curls my lips.
My first stop is the sound system. I bypass the club feed and pull up my own playlist, letting the heavy, filthy rhythm of Ty Dolla $ign’sOr Nahthrob through the speakers. I peel my kutte off, hanging it on the hook by the door. Reaching behind myneck, I yank my t-shirt over my head and toss it aside, before kicking off my boots and socks. I unbutton the fly of my jeans, letting my cock breathe as the blood pools heavy in my groin. I stalk over to the deepest shadows beside the doorway and slide the mask over my face. It’s a brutal piece of work. A silver, spiked skull with glowing purple LED 'X's for eyes, and a black cloth that drapes down to hide my jaw. It’s what I use for wet-work and club business that requires absolute silence.
To anyone else, I’m a nameless nightmare covered in ink.
To her? I’m the prize.
The phone vibrates in my palm with a single thumbs-up from Blitz.
Game on, baby girl.
I step back into the deepest shadow beside the door. It’ll take her eyes a few minutes to adjust to the red wash of the room. By the time she realizes I’m not alone in here, it’ll be too late to run.
