“Need a hand?” Beckett called out on approach.
“You still possessed or good?” Gray asked.
“Mostly good,” Beckett returned, thankful Gray was as lucid as he was. He needed all the help he could get.
“Is Sydney—” Gray’s words cut off when Camila lunged forward and kissed him, her hands reaching for his zipper.
Beckett went in for the assist and gently held her wrist, stopping her mid-zip. “Camila,” he began, “you need to try to remember . . .” Was he wasting his words? She looked as possessed as Mya had been. “I have the others on one of the couches. Let’s just bring her there. We can keep an eye on them until we figure out how to get out of here,” he suggested to Gray. “I think I had less wine than you. I’ll carry her. You just keep hold of her hands, so she doesn’t hit me.”
“It was in the wine? That’s how they did it?” Gray cursed as Beckett lifted Camila, who thankfully didn’t try to kiss him. Did that mean the drug only woke up desires already within a person? Did she want Gray?
“I’m assuming so,” Beckett said as he set Camila on the couch beside Sydney, who appeared to be asleep.
“Do you remember what happened tonight?” Gray asked, a hand circling his neck and a haunted look in his eyes.
“Just dancing. I think they were hoping we’d all have sex in here while they watched, but fortunately, that didn’t happen.” Beckett tipped his chin toward the mirrored wall, assuming they still had eyes on them. “Elaina’s instructions to me were to stop when I saw the roses,” he added while gesturing toward the roses lying amid shards of broken glass on the floor.
“Thank God for that,” Gray remarked, dropping alongside Oliver, who was fast asleep with Mya snoozing, her head on his shoulder. “If Miguel’s on the other side of that mirrored wall, then Jesse is too.” He lowered his voice, adding, “He would’ve stopped us from doing something unthinkable if he had to.”
“True.” Beckett sat and pulled Sydney against his exhausted body. “I guess we wait until they decide to come in. But keep our eyes open. I don’t want anyone coming near them.”
“That drug is potent,” Gray whispered a few quiet minutes later.
“Back at the club, I kept thinking someone would take Sydney from me. I wasn’t expecting paranoia to be a side effect.” The fact he shared that with Gray meant the drug was still very much in his system.
Gray’s gaze cut to Camila. “And I can’t believe . . .”
You were making out with her? Before either could continue, a set of double doors leading into the room parted.
Jorge was the first to enter the room, Jesse in the hall behind him. “Nothing to see tonight. Too bad. I was hoping after hours of dancing in here, something more exciting would have transpired. But my men just came to let me know you all seemed to be sleeping instead.”
Dancing for hours? No wonder his body was fatigued. And hell, what time was it?
“Perhaps you’ll all join us for my birthday party tomorrow night. I think you didn’t have quite the right amount of wine to”—Jorge stroked his jaw—“loosen you up enough.”
Jorge wanted to up the dose of the drug and test it on them again? Yeah, fuck you. But if Jorge was going to let them walk out of there alive, that was all that mattered.
“Get some rest. Plenty of beds in here. My men will be back in a few hours to take you all to your hotel.”
How cordial of you, he thought bitterly, as Jorge turned and left without another word.
Jesse caught Beckett’s eyes from the hall before the doors closed, a slight nod from him confirming his, “I’ve got your back.” Beckett trusted his brother-in-law with his sister’s life, so he’d trust him with his own.
Beckett forced himself to stay awake after that, but he was clueless how much time had passed between when Jorge had left, and Oliver woke up.
With Oliver starting to come around, Beckett decided to attempt to revive Sydney while Gray did the same with Camila.
“Sydney,” Beckett said into her ear. “Wake up.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She moaned and turned her face into his palm and kissed his hand.
“I could love you.” Beckett’s eyes widened at Sydney’s words.
“Sweetheart,” Beckett said after a hard swallow. He leaned in to kiss her like that might break the spell, hating doing it in front of Gray, but at this point, he doubted it mattered.
“Mmmm.” Sydney’s tongue slid between his lips. Yup, she was still in “desire mode.”
“Sydney,” he whispered into her ear again. “You’ve been drugged. We’re at Jorge’s.”
When she went still in his arms, he followed her eyes to the roses on the floor. “Elaina,” she muttered. “She said to stop on the phone today. Or was that yesterday? Did she mean for us to stop? To not . . .”
Have sex. Yeah. Poor kid for having to tell them that too.
“Oh my God.” Mya’s voice snapped Sydney’s attention her way. “Did we . . .?”
“No. None of us did,” Beckett answered, shutting down her alarm.
“Thank fuck.” Oliver shook his head.
“Ah, I see you’re all awake,” a man said a moment later, joining them in the room. Probably one of Jorge’s guards. “Your car is ready.”
Once Sydney was on her feet, he slid a hand around her waist to help her walk. He barely paid attention to their surroundings as they left the room. The damn place was too big. Too bright. Too much gold everywhere. Overall, it was just too Gatsby-like for him to look around without squinting, feeling like it was the sun obstructing his view. But no, it was just gold and glitzy shit everywhere.
Once they were outside, the fresh air was another wake-up call he hadn’t known he needed.
He spotted a black SUV with special tires, the kind that could take a bullet and keep driving. Armored vehicle most likely.
“That’s not your ride. Another guest just pulled in,” the guard told Beckett before pointing to a six-car attached garage. One door lifted, and a similar all-black SUV pulled out a moment later.
Gray helped Camila in the back before taking shotgun. Oliver and Mya climbed into the third row, which left the middle for him and Sydney.
Once he tucked Sydney inside, he turned at the strange feeling of being watched. Eyes were on him, and not from Jorge’s guard.
Beckett looked up at a window over the garage and grabbed the side of the SUV at the sight.
A kid was in the window staring at him. He couldn’t make out much more than that, but . . .
Miles? The idea of driving away from the boy right now was unbearable.
“Hey, I know you.”
Beckett shifted for a better look at the man leaning against the other SUV. Dark hair. Ink covering his exposed skin, forehead as well.
And he wasn’t just any man.
Hector Lopez.
You remember me. Great. His shoulders fell, and when he looked toward the window again, the boy was gone.
“You’re here for her, aren’t you?” Hector asked.
“Get them out of here,” Beckett whispered before he slammed the door shut and turned his attention to the new problem at hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beckett answered Hector as casually as possible, hoping to buy Gray some time to knock out the driver and take over the wheel.