“I don’t owe you shit!” I spit.
“Let’s get something clear.” Marek steps into me. One hand rests on my hip, and his fingers dig into the small patch of exposed skin between my blouse and jeans. “You are not defenseless. If you have one-third of your sister’s DNA, you’re solid.” He bends down to drive his point home. “You’re right, though. You don’t owe us anything, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to make you pay.”
Breaker laughs. “How though, brother? How will we ever make her pay?” His voice becomes more sinister and excited from the prospect.
“Could be money, but we all have enough of that,” Dixon adds.
“Maybe with her body.” Byron chuckles, enjoying this far too much.
“No, that’s not the kind of payment we’re looking for, Palmer.” Marek releases my hip, forcing me to admit how much I miss his touch. His hand doesn’t wait too long to press against my chest, pushing me onto the couch next to Breaker.
They inch closer, except for Marek. He backs away, leaning against one of the columns dividing us from the rest of the club. His arms cross over his chest, and he relaxes into his position. No one utters a single word, allowing me time to take each of them in.
“Aren’t you sick of playing these games?” I try to stand, but Breaker’s tattooed fingers press into my shoulder, keeping me in place. “You’ve got to be kidding with me, right? You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“No one’s keeping you anywhere you don’t want to be, Palmer.” Marek gestures to the crowded club. “You’re free to go.”
I stand, more than happy to escape these guys. Being in their presence is enough to shake my every nerve. Their body language makes me feel small and unworthy. Four boys who are larger than life, that’s what they are.
Marek’s hand wraps around my bicep, halting my escape to freedom. I turn my head, locking onto him, and I realize it’s a big ruse. I don’t have my freedom anymore. I belong to him. He knows it, and now I do, too.
“Don’t forget this.” He offers me my phone, and I tuck it into my pocket. “When you need me, which you will”— his tongue pokes out of his mouth, accentuating the perfect curve of his lips— “text me. Call me. Send a fucking carrier pigeon for all I care, but I will be there.”
“Why? What am I to you?” I swallow, lifting my chin to feign confidence. His arm muscles twitch under his skin, and his grip on my bicep loosens as his smile tightens.
“Something to play with.” He pushes off the wood column, putting his body between me and the boys. As one, they stand, making them appear to be a united front.
“But why?” I shake my head, yanking away from him. “Why me?”
“When you need to know, you will.”
“Cryptic messages aren’t really my thing.” I challenge, stepping forward and pressing my chest into his. My hand lands in the small space between us. Hidden from everyone, my fingers inch towards the one thing they shouldn’t.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Palmer Weston. A boy like me will shatter every part of your heart.”
“Who said anything about hearts, Marek?” Standing in front of him makes me a little crazy. I know I shouldn’t, but I place my flat palm against the front of his jeans, feeling the heat of his erection against my hand. “What this is has nothing to do with our hearts. For all I know you have a hollow chest.”
He grabs my hand, forcing me to stop touching him. “Like I said, Palmer, you’ll call when you need us.”
Like hell I will. Attempting to play their own game against them, I’ve ended up on the losing end once again. The idea that being aggressive would play in my hand was deceiving. These boys don’t care what kind of tricks and tools I use because, at the end of the day, they know they’ll always be stronger, faster, and bigger.
At that, I push forward, knowing damn well the four of them are watching me disappear into the crowd. If it’s possible, the club is more packed than when Delaney and I got here earlier. At the thought, I search the dance floor, expecting to find her grinding up on the guy.
She’s nowhere to be found.
The blood rushes into my ears, making the music muffled and distorted. I dive right into the middle of the dance floor, scanning every face to find my best friend. Twenty minutes later, and she’s still missing.
“Where in the hell are you?” I ask as I scan the nameless faces.
A grown man steps in front of me, attempting to wrap me in his arms. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Back off!” I shout, but it’s pointless with the volume of the music. No one could hear me screaming. I shove through the sweaty bodies, gasping for air when I break through them.
At the thought, I circle the perimeter of the club, ducking my head into several VIP sections. When I don’t find her safely tucked away in one of them, I pull my phone out to send her a text.
Me: Where are you at? I’m ready to go.
The three blinking dots pop up but go radio silent soon after.
What the fuck?
My heart beats double time, and an instant dizzy spell hits me. I lean on the nearest table to steady myself. It doesn’t help. My mind has been trained to think of worst-case scenarios, and right about now, Delaney is ass up in a broom closet, surrounded by a group of thirty-year-old men.
I click the green phone on my screen to call her. It rings once then goes to voice mail.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I press my hand to my forehead, circling around to devise a plan.
On the last spin, the hidden corner where I left Marek and the boys screams at me. I shuffle over, not ready to admit I need them, but not willing to let Delaney be in trouble without me doing everything I can to make sure she’s okay.
“What did I say, boys? I knew she’d come back.” Marek jabs his thumb at me.
Breaker jumps to his feet, hopping over the table and bending down to check on me like a loving friend. But we aren’t friends. “Take a deep breath, sweetheart. What happened?”
“I . . . I . . .” I wave my hand in front of my face to calm myself. “I don’t know what happened.”
Marek pushes Breaker out of the way, holding me at arm’s length. “Palmer, snap out of it. What’s going on?”
“Delaney . . . I . . .” I check over my shoulder, completely lost in my own mind.
“Spit it out, or else we can’t help you.” Byron is now standing with Breaker and Marek. They have a strange worry written on their faces that I don’t quite understand.
“I can’t find her.” I shake my head, begging for the clouds to clear.
“Who were you here with?” Marek asks, checking over his shoulder.
“Delaney. She met a guy here. She’s been talking with him on the internet. I don’t even know his name. I let my best friend prance off with a fucking stranger. How could I be so stupid?” I rub the tension knotting my forehead.
“Dixon” — Marek yanks him forward— “track her phone. Now.”
“You can do that?” I question, looking at Dixon. Of course, he can.
Dixon pulls out his phone and starts clicking away.
“He changed your passcode. What do you think?” Marek’s lips pinch together, showing me how exasperated he is by my question. What I should know by now is these boys can do whatever they want.