“And what do you think I’m getting myself into?” It’s been months since Ian and I have had really any conversation. It’s not like we’ve ever been really chatty with one another, but I know what he did for Holly. He talked her through that awful night. He heard Mindy’s screams. Even after, he’s been gentle with Holly. He talks softly to her, and he was patient when she clung to him weeks after it all happened. I’ve always liked Ian, but now I have a newfound respect for him.
I know the clubhouse well enough to know what awaits us beyond the doors that line the hallway. Most of the rooms belong to the brothers. It gives them a place to crash or have sex with the Lost Girls—and for some, their old ladies. At the end of the hall is the chapel. I’d go say hi to Nic since I know she’s holed up in there, but there’s no telling who else might be in there who’d be more likely to tell on me. Still, I’m tempted to go say hi anyway since Duke quarantined her due to her super-pregnant state.
They hold Church meetings in the chapel, where they formally discuss club business. It’s also the room where they’ll decide whether or not to vote in Nic and Holly. I’ve only been in there a few times, and truthfully I have little desire to be in there normally. It’s as sacred as any place can get to these men.
One door, though—one door isn’t sacred, nor is it a personal space. The palace is where the nastiest of the nasty shit goes down. And we’re headed right for the door.
“Trouble,” he says and lifts his arm from my shoulders then takes a step away. My nerves get the best of me, oxygen catching in my throat, unable to make its way down to my lungs, and my palms sweat. I bring the beer bottle to my lips and take another large gulp.
“He’s not good enough for you, Miss Priss,” he says with a blank stare at the wall beside my head. “Your dad doesn’t want this life for you. None of us do.” He leaves me at the door to hell and disappears into his room at the end of the hall.
I wish Tracie were here with me. Instead, she’s off somewhere, doing something—or apparently someone—and not by my side like I need her to be. Maybe this is what Ian is talking about. I don’t do things on my own. I finish my beer quickly and wrap my hand around the doorknob. If I wait any longer I won’t have the nerve to do it.
CHAPTER 11
December
16 months to Mancuso’s downfall
The knob twists easily under my direction. A heavy body bumps into me from behind and shoves me into the room before I’m ready. So much is happening around me and there’s so many people in here—almost all of whom are naked—that I can’t find a single familiar face.
I move deeper into the room, too curious for my own good. A Lost Girl whose name I don’t know hangs from one of the stripper poles. She twirls around effortlessly in front of the mirrored wall with nothing on but a G-string and a pair of bright red heels. At first glance, her body looks to be totally free of ink, but then I see it—one of the Forsaken symbols tattooed on her hip. It’s a smiling skull with the helmet of a Nordic warrior on top. I know some of the Lost Girls have them—these tattoos—but I don’t know how the club goes about deciding who gets tattooed and who doesn’t.
Across the room, also reflected in the mirrored wall, are two Forsaken—one I know and one I don’t—having their way with a naked woman. Bear has his mouth wrapped around her left breast while the man I don’t know has his fingers rhythmically moving between her parted legs. She jerks as her back bows up, and she reaches down to rub Bear through his jeans. I can’t turn away. It’s so intimate and yet out in the open. Nobody cares, though, and in a way, it sort of makes the act more beautiful. Nobody here is ashamed of seeking out and giving pleasure to another. It’s only me.
A firm hand cups my hip, causing me to jump in place. Familiar blond hair tickles at the side of my face as Daniel’s voice fills my ear. “Do you like what you see?”
I want to say no, that I’m horrified by what’s going on here. But I’m not. I’m fascinated.
“Yes,” I say breathily.