Not good, I think but I say, “Like I want to get this over with,” which is also the truth.
“We can just wait here until he calls you back.”
“He might not call me back, Kace.” I press my hand to his face, the roughness of a dark, one-day stubble teasing my fingers, darkening his jaw while worry furrows his brow. “I need to give this a real try,” I say, reminding him why we are doing this, but also meeting him halfway. I owe him that. “After this, I’ll let it go. I’ll accept defeat. But he’s my brother. I have to try.”
He covers my hand with his and brings it to his lips. “I know. I know and that’s why we’re here. Let’s get it over with.” He releases me and turns to Savage. “Talk us through this.”
“Blake’s in a van with two other men one block down,” Savage says. “He has a view from the indoor cameras. We have men inside the club. My badass self, and Mr. Peanut Butter Cup here next to me, will follow you into the club. Adrian likes to beat up bad guys more than I do.”
“He’s not wrong,” Adrian says dryly without looking at us, and I believe him. I’d seen something in that man’s eyes a few minutes ago.
“I never am,” Savage jokes with a wink in our direction. “Bottom line. We’ve got your backs. So you’re walking inside just the two of you, but you’re not alone.”
I press my hand to my belly. “Why am I this nervous? I’m just meeting my brother.”
“Because he won’t answer his damn phone,” Kace murmurs, almost to himself, but he doesn’t expect a reply. He pops his street-side door open and exits, offering me his hand, and when I settle my feet on the ground, he says, “Leave your coat. They might not have a coat check.”
I nod and shrug out of it, even as he does the same of his. Once they’re discarded, my phone goes into my jeans pocket for easy access, and then I slide my Chanel purse over my head, crossing the strap around my chest. Once it rests at my hip, Kace’s arm is around me, huddling me into the warmth of his big body, just me and him, headed toward a dance club. Not a big deal and yet, it is.
It feels more like we’re headed into a warzone, just me and him, with a couple of Terminators at our back, against the world.
Except really, we’re just going to see my brother.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
We cross the busy street, the Manhattan night alight with activity, a virtual video game of glowing city lights, people bustling about, bundled up in winter attire. Street vendors selling random food. Men in funny boots dancing for a crowd. The club is the focus of it all, and as we near the door, music vibrates through the walls.
The tall forty-something doorman with tattoos all over his thick muscled-up shoulders and bare arms scowls at us and holds up a puffy looking hand. “ID’s.”
I dig mine from my purse and show it to him. Kace is next. The man grunts and says, “Twenty-five each.”
“That’s very expensive,” I say because it’s just the way I’ve been built. I don’t spend money on outrageous things.
The man’s beefy face scrunches up. “Pay or don’t play.”
Kace arches a brow at me and palms the man the cash before sliding an arm around me. “That’s very expensive?”
“Well, it is. They make their money on the alcohol and just because you have money that doesn’t mean we want to be robbed at the door.”
“We have money, sweetheart,” he says, as we travel a narrow, dark hallway, “and we can handle the fifty bucks.”
My nerve endings are prickling, almost in warning, but then, I’ve been trained all my life to avoid the unknown. Right now, we’re living the unknown. “I’d really like to be home right now listening to you practice, which you didn’t do today.”
“Me, too, baby,” Kace murmurs. “Me, too.”
He’s barely issued that agreement when we enter a dimly lit lounge with blue and pink neon lights on the walls and ceiling, the long bar glowing blue. Cushioned booth-style seating lines those neon glowing walls but only a few people mingle here and there. The crowd, which is clearly concentrated just beyond an arch where bodies are bouncing around on a dance floor, appears to be massive. Folding my hand firmly in his, Kace leads me forward, under the arch, and into the blast of music, the song “People I Don’t Like” by UPSAHL driving the crowd wild. And me too, a little, as the words vibrate through me:
Hello, it's so good to see you
We met before, but nice to meet you
Yeah, I don't really wanna be here like, ah-ah-ah-ah
It feels like how Gio is treating Kace. Actually, it feels like how he’s treating me and suddenly I’m angry with my brother all over again, which isn’t a positive emotion. Kace motions to the stairs that lead to what looks like another bar area, with people leaning on the railing to watch the dancers. It’s a perfect spot to scan for Gio. I nod my approval and Kace maneuvers me in front of him, his hands possessively wrapping my waist as we weave through the crush of bodies and then start up the metal winding stairs. The higher we climb, the softer the music becomes, and when I finish the climb and step onto the elevated level just ahead of Kace, to my shock Gio steps in front of me.
Dressed in all black, with a beer in his hand, he looks handsome, cocky, and bigger than life. He’s always been bigger than life to me, my brother, the head of the family, after my father vanished. My heart squeezes with my love for this man, my blood, the only family I have left. When he looks at me, I see that in his eyes, too. We are family. We can’t fail each other.
Instantly, my anger fades, and I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. His hand comes down on my back and he pulls me close, and whispers, “Let’s talk. Alone.”
I can feel Kace’s jagged energy at my back and I understand why. Gio, thus far, has been a blade trying to cut the bond between us. I glance up at my brother, eyes meeting his. “I need you to talk to Kace. I need you to give him a chance.”
He fixes me in a heavy-lidded stare, his jaw set stubbornly. “After we talk.”
I’m not going to change his mind and with a frustrated sigh, I turn to Kace, closing the small space between us, my hands curling on his chest. “I need to talk to him alone.”
He stares down at me, his expression unreadable, but the edginess of his mood is back and all too real. It pulses like the music, a living breathing force, almost destructive in its power. He doesn’t want to say yes, but he lifts his chin toward the bar. “I’ll be right there.”
“Thank you,” I say, pushing to my toes to kiss him and when I would simply brush my lips to his, he cups my head and claims my mouth in a bruising, possessive kiss meant to make a statement: I’m his. Gio can’t take me away. I’m almost angry at him for antagonizing Gio, almost. Another part of me is aware of how alone we both were before we found each other, how certain I am in this moment that he needs me the way I need him. This part of me welcomes his response, revels in being needed and loved by this beautiful, talented man who has become my best friend and partner. I sink into the kiss, reveling in his claim on me. And in his silent promise that he will not back down, he will not walk away from me or us, not even for my brother.