Page 74 of Trigger Happy Ending

Her gaze narrows as she swings her legs around and braces her elbows on her knees.

“You know him, don’t you?”

God, am I that easy to read?

I screw up my nose. “No. First time I’ve seen him.”

I hate lying to her. It’s beginning to wear me down.

She tilts her head. “Weird. The way you looked at each other …”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Don’t gaslight me, bitch,” she sings. “I know what I saw.”

“Maybe it was the coke.”

“Uh-huh.” She smirks and stands, hands on hips. “Fine. If you’re not interested in Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Tattooed, I’m calling dibs.”

“Knock yourself out,” I say, capping my lipstick.

She struts off through the door and out onto the floor. I let out a slow exhale, eyes drifting back to my reflection. I wanted more last night. So much more. But I don’t know what to do when it’s not an act. When it’s not for the job. I’m clueless when it comes to reality.

Because for the first time in my fucked-up life, I want someone to want me back.

And what if that’s a mistake?

What if wanting him makes me soft? Makes me stupid?

He was gone by the time I emerged from my room late this afternoon. He probably hates me for what I did last night. He might even think I’m playing him again.

Good. That’s good.

Let him think that. Because this is dangerous. He is dangerous. Not because he could hurt me. In fact, I want him to. Make me beg for it, crawl to him, and choke on him.

He’s dangerous because of what could happen if I let him in. Attachments cause weakness, and we don’t have the luxury to be weak in this corrupt, violent world.

I slide on my platinum wig.

Time to go to work.

***

The club has closed, patrons long gone, when I hear a commotion on the general floor one level down. Sharp voices, followed by the scrape of chairs. Cherry peers over the balcony, and all the color drains from her face. She drops her tray, full of empty tumblers, some shattering upon hitting the ground and spins toward me.

“Fuck, Angel. My ex. He’s here.” Her voice shakes. In fact, her whole body has tremors. She’s fucking terrified.

A wave of nausea overcomes me. He’s found her.

“Go. Go into the UVIP room. Now!”

“No.” She vigorously shakes her head. “It’s not just him. It’s all of them.”

I follow her gaze over the railing, and my stomach drops. Five men in patched leather, some sporting black eyes, fresh cuts. These are the roadhouse bikers that Soren and I beat the shit out of. And it’s not just Cherry’s safety I’m concerned about; it’s mine. I’m royally fucked if they recognize me.

How’d they even get in?

“Go,” I snap to Cherry and point towards the hidden mirrored door. “Now.”