As I slide into the driver’s seat of the Rolls, I dial the one number I swore I wouldn’t need.
“I told you not to call me.”
“I need a favor,” I tell the king of New Orleans as I haul ass out of the driveway. I already know I won’t be able to get inside the club without Mount pulling strings, and I’m getting inside that fucking club.
“And you think your best choice was to call me? I thought I was clear when you sat in my office. You’re here for one reason, and one reason only. You’re on borrowed time, Moses.”
“Get me into the club. The one outside town. You know what I’m talking about.”
The other end of the call is silent for moments. I have a feeling Mount would shoot me on the spot for giving him orders, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m a man on a mission, and nothing is standing in my way.
“Did you tell her yet?”
As soon as he asks the question, my shoulders go back, and I grip the steering wheel of the Rolls tighter. “I’m working on it. I need in that club. Can you help me?”
Another long pause follows. “It’s not whether I can help you. It’s whether I want to. You haven’t held up your end of the bargain yet. So, no. You’re on your own, Moses.”
The call ends, and the interior of the Rolls goes silent.
That motherfucker.
Fine. I’ll handle this shit myself.
Seething with anger the whole drive, I pull up behind where Jules is parked on the left side of the road, about fifty yards from the gate. Jules is out of the SUV and at my window before I can throw the Rolls into park. I roll the window down as he leans closer.
“You got us a way in?”
I shake my head. “No. Mount told me to fuck off.”
Jules’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline like he can’t believe someone would talk to me that way. And most wouldn’t dare. But Mount . . . he’s a different story. This is his town, and as much as it grates, I’m only here because he allows it.
We made a deal, and he’s right—I haven’t held up my end yet. But I will. I glance at the gate up ahead that’s keeping me away from what I want.
“So . . . we going home then?”
My gaze cuts to Jules. “Not a fucking chance.”
He drums his fingers against the roof. “Not saying you haven’t already thought of this, boss, but maybe you should just call her? See if she’ll have them let you in?”
I glare at him. “You keep your phone on you when you’re fucking in a sex club?” My expression could make a lesser man piss himself, but Jules has known me a hell of a long time. I slam my forearm on the wheel. “That woman. When I get my hands on her . . .”
“We got a car coming, boss.” Jules steps away from the door, and I’m out of the Rolls in a second.
A car means an opportunity to get to Mags, and I’m not fucking wasting a goddamned second. I’m getting inside the fucking club if I have to rip the gate off its hinges with my bare hands and go in guns blazing.
The car, a sporty red Audi TT, slows when it approaches our two parked vehicles, and the window rolls down to reveal an attractive woman with blond hair falling straight to her shoulders.
“You boys lost?” By the time she finishes surveying me and Jules from head to toe, I’ve put a name to the face from the digging I did on Magnolia before we made it to New Orleans.
Desiree Harding. The madam who took over managing Magnolia’s house when she stepped aside. The glint in her eye tells me she probably has a gun and isn’t afraid to shoot us if we make a wrong move.
Don’t worry, you won’t have to shoot us, I think. You’re going to help us.
“Not lost, ma’am, but we sure could use a little assistance.” I gesture to the gate up ahead. “We seem to have lost our invitations.”
She practically devours us with her eyes even as she shakes her head. “Private club. No invitation, no entry. No matter how big a shame it is that you won’t get to play tonight.”
I take a step toward her car, but only one. I don’t want to spook her before I gain her cooperation. “We’ve got a mutual friend inside waiting for me.”
Her expression changes, suspicion creasing the corners of her eyes. “Who is that, exactly? And how the fuck do you know it’s a mutual friend? I don’t know you, and trust me when I say I would remember if we’d ever met.”
Giving her one of my most charming smiles, I say, “Magnolia Maison.”
Desiree’s eyes widen with surprise for a beat before she wipes her reaction away, leaving cool suspicion on her features. “We’re done here. Best move on, because I’m gonna tell security you’re here, and you don’t want them to come out and make you leave.”
Her window smoothly inches upward, and I’ve only got one last shot before tonight takes a bad turn, because I’m not leaving this place without Magnolia. Not a fucking chance.
“Give me five minutes to tell you a story. If you aren’t convinced, you can tell me to fuck off. If you are, you get me inside to Mags.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off without hearing me out, but the window pauses.
“If I don’t like the story, I’ll fucking shoot you and save Mags the trouble. Because that’s what you clearly are. I don’t care how big or sexy a motherfucker you might be. Deal?”
The corners of my mouth tug upward. “Deal.”
Thirty-Five
Magnolia
I adjust my mask and try not to think about the SUV I’m pretty damn certain followed my driver all the way to the club gates. Which means Jules has probably told his boss exactly where I am by now.
The mercenary part of me is responsible for the blood-red smile curving my lips.
I hope he thinks I’m here to fuck anyone and everyone who isn’t him. Even though I’m only really here to see one man.
It’s cruel and it makes me a bitch, but I don’t care. I’m grasping onto whatever I can to make myself feel in control. I won’t let Moses take that from me too.
I’m almost twenty minutes late when I finally open the door to the private room.
I step inside, expecting a teasing greeting to come from Rhodes’s deep, rough voice, but all I get is silence. My first thought is that he must be late too, but I realize my error as I take in the entire room and find him on the bed. He’s fully clothed, laid out on his back, his arms overhead with his hands beneath thick locks of wild brown hair.
Asleep.
“Really, Rhodes?”
“You’re late, and I haven’t slept in three days,” he replies with his eyes still closed, but the corners of his mouth turn up. “I gotta take opportunities when I find them.”
I push the door shut behind me. “You didn’t have to come.”
At this, he peeks at me with one blue eye. “And miss playing with you? Never.” He pushes himself off of the bed and comes toward me with the easy grace of a man comfortable in his own skin. “I’m going to make you work tonight, Mags. You’ll wish you had a nap too.”
“Pssh.” I shake my head, glancing toward the chessboard set up on the table at the side of the room. Just the sight of it shakes my self-possession because it makes me think of him.