“Don’t give a fuck. Still need to wait in line.” He nods to the back of the line, but fuck him. I’ve waited long enough.
I move from the front door and around the building to the back. From what I’ve noticed, Santos usually handles the girls’ side of the club rather than the customer side. The back door is used for exit only and is locked from the inside. If I wait out back long enough, Santos’s sure to pop his head out eventually.
The bass throbs, and I pace the length of brick wall, waiting. No matter how many times I check the parking lot for Trix’s car, I find myself jerking to attention every time a new one pulls in or even fucking passes by. My arms tense and my legs burn with unspent energy. I’m antsy as hell and getting more impatient as every second passes.
The sun disappears and the air cools, letting me know I’ve been out here for a while, when suddenly the back door swings open. I rush over just as Santos’ face appears and a group of men tumble out.
He catches sight of me, and I don’t miss the slight reaction on the usually stone-faced bouncer.
“Santos, I need a minute.” I rush up the steps and brace open the door.
“Workin’, don’t have a minute.” He tries unsuccessfully to shut the door.
“What happened the night you took Trix from the villa? Ever since then, she won’t talk to me. Guess she went home, but . . .” I blow out a long breath, suddenly feeling pathetic for being here. Guy’s girlfriend dumps his ass, and he chases after every person she knows searching for answers. I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry, I know this sounds crazy, but I can’t help but wonder if maybe she said something to you about being pissed at me? Something doesn’t feel right.”
He doesn’t give anything away by his expression, but steps outside. I release the door, and he catches it before it slams shut, grunting as if holding the thing open is causing him pain. His eyes close and he clutches his ribs, breathing through his teeth.
I’ve been around injuries long enough to know exactly what that is. Broken ribs.
“Rough night?” I nod to his ribs, but he ignores me.
“Rough few days.”
He steps under the light, and it’s then I notice a fading black eye and a scab on his lip. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Got messed up with the wrong people.” He stares at me in a way that has me shifting on my feet. “You know what that’s like?”
“I do.”
He nods. “Yeah. You do. So does she.”
I shake my head, feeling the weight of defeat crash over me. “So you’re saying she thinks I’m the wrong people?” Fuck, I knew it. She thinks I’m a drug dealer and a participating member of B3. What she saw at the beach, knows about my ties to Elijah, and the way I man-handled her at that party, she has all the evidence against me.
He taps his temple, his eyes wide. “Think.”
“I—”
“Think.”
Think about what? “When you see her, will you please tell her to call me? It’s cool if she’s over us.” It so fucking is not! “But I need to hear her say it.”
His eyes dart to the lot behind me, his jaw hard. “Think harder.”
“I know I fucked up.”
Why the hell does he look so disappointed?
This was a mistake. I wave him off and move back down the steps. “Speaking in riddles, what the fuck?”
He mumbles something that I can’t make out, but my guess is whatever it is will only make me angrier. I hop in my truck and head over to Rex’s for poker night, feeling like I’ve lost the other half of my soul.
Now I get what Trix was talking about when she’d mention Lana’s death. Losing someone you love is horrific. Knowing it happened is bad enough, but not knowing why is excruciating.
If she’d just let me explain, I could fix all this. Whatever she thinks of me is wrong and doesn’t justify this kind of punishment.
Is this it? Did I lose her?
Rex reaches two hands into the middle of the table and rakes his winnings toward him. “You forget to take your meds today, Baywatch?”
“That’s not funny.” Gia, who took Talon’s spot at the table tonight after the guy called to say he had last-minute * to slay, his words, not mine, slaps her man on the arm.
He cringes and stacks his chips in nice even towers. “Sorry, baby.”
I swig off my beer while flipping a chip over my fingers.
“Mase, man, Rex’s is right.” Lane leans back in his chair, scowling. “Someone kill your kitten?”
How do I even answer that? No, fuckface, but my girl, the one you so proudly fucked, promised me she’d never say good-bye and fucking left my ass. Yes, I’m a *-ass bitch, but love’ll do that to you.