She couldn’t believe she was back there after everything. After how close she had come to escape, she was right back where she started.
She should’ve never trusted Adam Vandemilio. He was a snake. A wretch. A liar. An asshole who started a fight that he left his friends to finish. A coward who abandoned them.
She heard the club door open, and without turning around she said, “We’re closed.”
“Then I’ll come back another time?”
She knew that voice. She whipped her head around, full of hope, and saw Paul, standing with his arms open wide.
Her smile was wider than her face could hold. “Paul!”
She hopped the bar and ran over to him, jumping into his arms to hug him. Her grip was tight, his was, too, as if they both knew how close they’d come to losing each other. He let her hold him for a long while, likely sensing that she needed to feel him to remind herself that she hadn’t actually losteverything.
Once she’d retreated from the embrace, she turned her smile to ice and hit Paul on the arm. Hard.
“Ouch! Why?”
“You haven’t been by in weeks, where the hell have you been?!”
Paul rubbed his arm. “I went to see Dorian Blake.”
“You did what?” Mercedes turned rabid. “You can’t see Dorian Blake. He’s gunning for your head for disappearing all these weeks. He’ll crucify you.”
“He forgave Carlos and Dan,” Paul said.
“You know the rules won’t be the same for you. Dan and Carlos, to him, are just two Cortez lowlifes. You were nearly a second-in-charge, for fuck’s sake!”
“M, it’s okay,” Paul said, patting her on the shoulder. “I’m meeting Blake here now. He wants me to work for him.”
He couldn’t really be that fucking stupid, could he?
The front door opened and again, without looking, Mercedes cried out. “We’re closed!”
“Not for me.”
Another voice she knew. Kind words laced with venom that sent shivers down her spine.
Both she and Paul straightened.
Dorian entered followed by Yani, Antonio, and T.B.
“Why don’t you make us some drinks, darling,” Dorian said as he and his entourage drew farther into the club.
A simple nod gestured Paul toward Blake’s regular booth. Mercedes didn’t say a word as she went to make their drinks, tucking her hair behind her ear, ensuring she was close enough to hear anything useful.
Dorian slid into the deep leather of the booth, flanked by his companions at his left side. Paul sat on an uncomfortable wooden chair in front of them. It sat lower than the booth, likely on purpose so that Dorian would tower over his enemy. But with Paul’s height, it merely brought them face to face.
“So, you’ve seen the light,” Dorian said, a cruel smile on his mouth.
“I have,” Paul said. “I want to come back.”
“Bold, isn’t it? After what you did, traitor.”
Paul dropped his eyes to his lap in submission.
“Your friends have been very helpful. What’re their names again? The Cortez guys?” Dorian turned to Yani to answer.
“Dan and Carlos.”
