"Nothing about this sick fuck is a coincidence," Sampson commented, folding his thick arms over his chest and scowling down at the dead cat. "He was stalking your mom back then, Madison Kate. He would have known, and this is a deliberate message to Steele."
"So what does the message say?" Kody looked to Steele and Archer. It was pointless to ask me; I remembered nothing of meeting them prior to Riot Night.
Archer looked to Steele, who just gave a shrug.
"No idea," he muttered. "Sampson, can you document this and dispose of it?"
Our head of security assured us he would, then Steele exited the office without making eye contact with me. When he was gone, no one else made any move to follow him.
I frowned in the direction Steele had disappeared. "Why do I get the feeling he just lied to us?"
Archer let out a heavy sigh. "Because he did." My brows shot up, and he scrubbed a hand over his short beard. "Let me talk to him."
Before leaving the security office, he pressed a quick kiss against my hair, his arm tight around my waist.
"Stay with Kody. I don't trust anyone." His words were whispered in my ear, and my eyes widened. I gave him a small nod of understanding, though, and he left the office to track down Steele.
Sampson muttered something about getting a trash bag and left as well. Kody blew out a breath, slinging an arm over my shoulders.
"Just you and me this morning, huh, babe?"
I winced and looked at the stalker gift. "And a dead cat."
A dead, steel-gray cat named Max.
7
Steele evaded me for most of the day, and when I ran into Archer, he just told me not to worry about it. Like that wasn't going to make me worry more about it. Fucking boys just didn't get it sometimes.
Which is why I finally snapped as we were about to leave for our meeting with Demi at 7th Circle.
Archer, Kody, and I were already waiting in the Range Rover when Steele came out in a pair of distressed black jeans and a dark gray T-shirt, basically looking like he’d stepped off the pages of Bad Boy Weekly.
If that wasn't already a magazine, it needed to be.
"I'm taking my bike," Steele called out to Archer, bypassing the Range Rover to head toward where his motorcycle was parked.
Annoyance sparked, and I climbed out of the car. "Wait up; I'll come with you," I called out after him.
He paused, then spun around to eye my outfit critically. We were meeting Demi in a nightclub, so I'd dressed for the occasion in a sequined, silver mini-dress and strappy, black high heels. My hair was up in a high bun and my makeup was heavier than usual. Because, why the hell not? I looked great, and with people trying to kill me every second day, I deserved the boost to my own confidence.
Also, having the guys watch me like predators every moment I moved was a hell of an ego stroke.
"You're gonna ride on the back of my bike in that, Hellcat?" Steele's lips curved in a challenging smile, and I propped my hands on my hips.
Batting my lashes, I threw him an arrogant smirk. "What, like it's hard?"
Steele just snorted a laugh and indicated for Archer to go without us. Security would be following both them and us, regardless, so we weren’t concerned about splitting up for a short drive. As for my lack of protective clothing? Fuck it. A little part of me enjoyed the danger.
We stared at each other until the Range Rover pulled out of the driveway, then Steele folded his arms over his chest.
"I'm not avoiding you, Hellcat. It just makes sense to have a secondary vehicle in case something goes wrong." Bullshit. The tight set to his shoulders told me a whole different story.
Holding up a finger, I started pointing out some facts. "One. You lied to me this morning about the cat thing. Two. You've most definitely been avoiding me all damn day. Three. You shouldn't even be driving right now, let alone riding a motorcycle. Are you suicidal? And four. You swore you wouldn't lie to me anymore, Max. What the hell?"
He deflated, his shoulder slumping and his eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry, Hellcat. I shouldn't have lied to you."
I waited for more of an explanation, but none came. What the fuck?
"Give me the keys," I demanded, holding my hand out to him. "I'll drive."
Steele's gaze snapped back up to mine, and he scoffed a laugh. "Not a chance, Hellcat. Come on, I promise I'll spill all my secrets when we get home."
He took a few more steps toward his motorcycle, but I needed to push him harder.
"Why not now? This obviously has something to do with me, so just tell me now, Max." I folded my arms and ignored the scratch of my sequined dress.
He let out a heavy sigh, holding out a helmet for me to take. "Because, Hellcat. It also has to do with Rachel, and I'd really, really appreciate the distraction of your naked body when I need to drag up painful memories of my dead twin. Okay?"
"Oh." That was the best response I could muster up because I hadn't expected that response from him. Crap, now I feel like a total bitch.
Steele gave me a weak smile and helped me fasten my helmet. "So, can you just wrap those gorgeous thighs around me for a few minutes and let me park this topic for a few hours? I promise it's not detrimental to your safety; it's all ancient history."
I jerked a nod, then climbed onto the back of his bike after he was seated. No verbal response was really needed, so I just did as he asked. I pressed my whole body to his, my arms tight around his torso without hurting his chest.
The drive to the warehouse district where 7th Circle was located went by surprisingly fast, but when Steele pulled in to park and helped me off, my teeth were chattering.
"Told you that dress wasn't suited for my bike," he scolded as he wrapped me in his warm embrace and rubbed my frozen arms. "It's sexy as sin, though."
I shot him a grin. "No pain, no gain, Max Steele."
He grimaced and rubbed a hand over his chest. "You can say that again. Come on; the guys are probably inside already."
With our fingers linked together, Steele walked straight past the burly security guard at the front door with nothing more than a small nod. Inside the old warehouse, the whole place had been fully transformed since the last time I'd seen it. Where it had still been a work in progress during our photo shoot, it was now fully finished and totally polished.
"I thought Archer said this place wasn't open yet," I said over the music as we wove our way through the crowd.
"It's not," he replied. "This is a trial run night. Everyone is here on invitation only to put the staff through their paces and ensure they're ready for an official opening."
"Makes sense," I commented, then spotted Archer and Kody at the bar. I pointed them out to Steele, and we made our way over there to find drinks already waiting for us.
"That was quick," Kody teased, handing me a fruity cocktail identical to his own. "All that metal giving you dysfunction, bro?"
Steele scoffed. "You fucking wish. Demi not here yet?"
"She's in the mezzanine bar. We wanted to wait for you two before heading up there." Archer indicated to the area toward the far end of the warehouse where a mezzanine bar overlooked the main hall. The two featured runways each ended in a spinning pole that extended all the way past the mezzanine level—dangerous as hell if one of the dancers fell from that height. Also a seriously cool design feature.