A deejay worked high on a platform in the center of the room. The dancers moved in syncopated rhythms around him. A light caught my eye in a high corner of the room, white and quicker than the strobes. Jeremy stood on a catwalk, snapping pictures. His telescoping lens fanned slowly toward me, found me, and paused. The camera dropped slowly from his face. He stared at me with a pained expression, then turned, shoving people aside until he disappeared from view.
I wanted to follow him. I wanted to explain. But I didn’t have a choice. Keeping Reece from going back to jail meant keeping Jeremy in the dark. And keeping Kylie alive meant I had to let him go.
I brought my attention back to the floor, to the wall of moving bodies in front of me. I didn’t see Kylie anywhere. I had five minutes to find her before Reece came back. To make sure she was safe.
I drifted closer to the dance floor, careful not to touch anyone. I jumped when a warm hand reached for me, slick with sweat, and tried to pull away as it drew me into the current of bodies.
The touch sent a surge of heat through my veins. Hot and electric and sweet. I shouldn’t be here, I thought, fighting to hold on to myself. Skin was all around me, touching me, until I was light, floating. I waved my hands in front of my face, watching them paint trails in the air. Someone grabbed me and pulled me close and I absorbed his buzz until I was numb with it.
I was one of them. Somebody. Part of something. Connected and touching. I pushed into them. Against them. Drinking them in. Drenched in their high. Promises drifted to me through the music.
Stay here. Five minutes.
The room was spinning. I giggled, laughter erupting within me until there was only dancing and music and the beat of the room. An arm snaked around me, strong shoulders curling over my back.
“What do we have here?” said a deep voice in my ear. “I had no idea little Nearly Boswell was so hot.” I shivered under his breath.
I fought to open my eyes, willing the room to stop spinning. Large hands steadied me as I gave in to the sway. He was tall, his designer shirt closely cut over a muscled chest and rolled at the sleeves. Honey-blond hair fell over his forehead in the most appealing way, and he smiled at me. A small voice in my head whispered warnings, but his hands were warm on my waist. He smelled good, like expensive cologne.
I leaned into him, pulling his head low to my ear. “I know you,” I purred, barely recognizing my own voice. “You’re dangerous.”
Vince growled into my neck, making me laugh. “You have no idea.”
He drew me into the sea of dancers, to the very center of the writhing mass.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” His face burrowed into my hair, tickling my shoulders. I shook my head and looped my hands around his neck, feeling dizzy.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
His hand slipped under the hem of my dress and worked slowly up my thigh. A delicious shudder rocked through me, sweet like cherry syrup with a burn that licked at my throat. My head rolled back, loose, and Vince nuzzled my collarbone.
“That’s too bad. Whelan doesn’t know what he’s missing.” The name scratched at the edge of a memory, then disappeared in the fog. Someone caught Vince’s attention behind me. Vince looked over my shoulder and grinned.
“TJ, I think we owe Leigh an apology,” he shouted over the music. “We haven’t been very nice. Let’s make it up to her. Go get her a drink.” Vince winked over my shoulder, his big hands roving higher. Something soured his touch, turning inhibition into something choking and greedy. Promises fluttered at the edge of my consciousness. I don’t want you to eat or drink anything—nothing—no matter who gives it to you.
“No, I shouldn’t . . .” I pushed at his wrists. The room spun and I stumbled into him. His arms circled my waist.
“Leave it alone, Vince.” TJ’s voice hardened behind me. “I saw Whelan here a few minutes ago.”
Vince’s face tensed. “I said the lady needs a drink, gimp. You gonna get in the game or sit the bench with your damn brace on all night?”
“Fuck off. I’m not your water boy.”
A crowd of glassy eyes turned toward us and away and the moment passed. TJ was gone. My head was heavy and I let it fall against Vince’s chest. Through fluttering eyelids, I could just make out a dark-haired boy, coming closer, pushing dancers out of his way.
“Leigh is leaving. Now,” said his clipped voice behind me.
It picked at the corners of my mind. I pressed my fingers to my temple and wished the floor would stop moving. He held out his hand.
I reached for it, but Vince dug thick fingers into my shoulder. “I don’t think Nearly wants to go anywhere.”
I blinked and the room swam.
“She comes with me.”