“Yeah,” I agree, my face buried in her hair. “Wow.”
I roll off her, pulling her into my arms. She rests her head on my chest.
“Well,” Sisk says, turning on her side to face me. “That was definitely something stupid.”
I reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Happy birthday.”
She smiles, and in that moment, with the city lights behind her and the taste of her still on my lips, I just know.I’m completely, totally fucked. I’d follow her into The Pit itself if she asked. I’m not even gonna try to fight it.
Thirty-Eight
NOW | SISK
Iturn and head back toward the man in the chair. He might think he’s in charge, but he’s just the first domino. He watches me approach with a smug smile already pulling at his mouth. “I’m Lola,” I say, offering my hand.
He takes my hand, bringing it to his lips instead of shaking it. “Vic Danner. I run most of what matters around here. Fights, girls, debts. You want something, it goes through me.” His tongue flicks out, wetting his lips.
“So, Vic—what’s a girl gotta do to get a drink around here?” I ask, like I’m only half-joking and already bored of the game.
He snaps his fingers without taking his eyes off me. A guy nods and disappears into the crowd.
I move toward the empty seat beside him.
“Right here, sweetheart.” He taps his knee, his eyes dragging over my body. “Don’t be shy.”
I want to tell him to go fuck himself. But I came for answers—and I’m not leaving without them.
So I smile enough to look flattered instead of calculating. “I guess a little fun never hurt anyone,” I tell him, and instead of settling into the obvious empty chair, I swing one leg over and sit on his lap.
His hands go to my waist like it’s a reflex. The drink arrives fast. A tall, clear-stemmed glass with a clear liquid inside. It’s probably just vodka, I tell myself. The rim’s been dipped in blood red sugar, and nestled inside the drink, melting slow, is a black lollipop shaped like a teardrop.
I stare at it too long. My blood chills.Millie.
Vic says something low near my ear, but I don’t hear it. My mind’s already racing. I take the glass slowly, pretending not to hesitate. He watches me as I lift the lollipop, twirling the stick between two fingers like I don’t care.
“Looks like your fighter has something to say,” he rumbles.
I look up and see that Jax is standing close, with his eyes narrowed on Vic. “Riot,” I say smoothly, like we rehearsed it. “Meet our investor.”
Jax’s eyes flick: me. The man. The seat I’m in. The hand resting lightly against my knee. A glass on a nearby table shatters, spilling its contents across the ground. No one seems to notice, but I do.
“Back off,” Jax growls, the words ripped from his chest.
The man tilts his head—like he’s studying a wild animal through glass. “I like him,” he says, amused. “He’s got balls.”
“Don’t test him,” I say, voice even, a thin veneer of control over the rising panic. “He’s worth more upright.”
The man moves his thumb one inch—almost lazily, like it was always harmless, then turns to his guys. “Double it,” he says. “I want to see what this one does when he’s pissed.”
Jax starts forward, but I move first. I lift the lollipop, touch it to my tongue. “Trust me, Riot,” I say—calm, but with an edge. “Remember Mils? She said we could trust Vic.”
For a second, I think he’s going to snap Vic’s neck, but then the red in his eyes flickers and vanishes, leaving his blue ones, though the fury in them stays.
Shit,I should’ve told him. I didn’t give him a single reason to believe in this. I couldn’t though, he would’ve shut it down before we even got through the door. Now all I can do is hope he trusts me enough to see this through.
Jax takes a step back. He doesn’t turn away, but he retreats.
I turn back to Vic with a fake smile. “So,” I say, tapping a nail against the glass, “what’s in this thing?”
