The way Mateo's looking at me now makes the hair on the back of my neck stand. I can tell he sees the shift in my mood. He’s watching me put all of it together. “Why did you come, Hunter?” he finally says. “It certainly wasn't to harass my guest.” I lean forward. Might as well go straight to the point. “I came to ask you a question. And you can only answer it correctly.” “What question is that?” “You know what.” “I don’t,” he says, voice smooth. “Please tell me.” I grit my teeth. “Don’t play games with me. Did you or did you not seek me out specifically because I’m connected to Knox? And then you bought into a company where Knox’s girlfriend works. What is your plan here?” The warmth vanishes from his face so fast it’s like someone flipped a switch. When he speaks again, his voice is colder. “Have you ever been betrayed by someone you trusted, Hunter?” “What’s that got to do with anything? Everyone’s been betrayed.” “I’m sure you have. You stopped speaking to your best frien
***~~HUNTER~~***Technically, I’ve always known where Mateo Torres lives.It’s listed in his file. A quiet, upmarket neighborhood in New York’s outer boroughs. I’ve seen pictures—aerial views from Google Earth, a few real estate shots that made their way into background checks. But none of those captured the size of the place. The house isn’t just big. It’s arrogant. A kind of architectural flex that doesn’t ask for respect so much as assume it’s already been given.I’m in the backseat of my car with the window rolled down. Smoke surrounds me as I blow out another long stream of cigar smoke into the night. Elias, my driver, hasn't said anything since I asked him to park the car, but I know he’s aware I’m stalling.And he’s right; I am.I don’t know what the hell I’m waiting for. Maybe a sign that I should leave. That this whole thing is a waste of time. Or maybe I’m hoping someone will come out of the house and make this decision for me. But the longer I sit here, watching Mateo's l
I don’t respond at first. Not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I’m chewing on the oddity of it. My first real encounter with my girlfriend's father is at my club of all places. A part of me considers slipping out, maybe grabbing my coat, my keys, and heading to the reception. I could offer to take him somewhere more neutral, somewhere polished and quiet with real napkins and overpriced steak, someplace that isn’t soaked in sweat and bourbon. But if Jade’s description of the man’s mood is even half true, Daniel Mercer isn’t here for small talk and cutlery. I glance at the corner of the room where the plush alien toy is still slumped on the couch and then back to Jade. “Let him in,” I say. “Keep it discreet.” Jade nods. He knows what that means. No strippers on poles between here and the entrance. None of the shirtless dancers or the neon signs that flash Deep Dive Fridays down the hallway. The clean path, the corporate face of the club. Just in case Daniel’s carryin
***~~KNOX~~***Lately, I’ve found myself wanting to leave the club earlier than usual.It’s not even a guilty feeling, just… foreign. Like I’m abandoning an old friend to chase after a new lover. This place used to be my kingdom. My comfort. The one environment I could control without compromise. I’ve got other businesses scattered all over—some in the city, some not—but this is the one I show up to. I’ve always liked being where chaos gathers, where I can play fixer.But now, at just a few minutes past 8 p.m., I’m sitting in my office staring at the analog clock on the wall, wondering how quickly I can justify slipping out. Levi and Jade can handle the rest of tonight. They’re good, more than good. Monday through Thursday is usually steady with regulars and low-drama clients. No new blood. No backstage fights.Still, I used to stay anyway.I stare at the clock hands as they tick slower than they should. My elbow rests on the arm of the leather chair, knuckles grazing my temple.All
For one uncomfortable second, I don’t have an answer. I stare at a point on Hunter’s desk that’s safe and blank and lifeless—anything to avoid the smirk in his eyes. In the silence, my brain replays the conversation I had with Knox last Friday. I remember challenging him on it. Accusing him of jumping to conclusions because of his own guilt or past or whatever he refused to put into words. And now I’m about to use the exact same logic on Hunter. I straighten in my chair, forcing the words out. “You never know what’s running through the mind of a victim.” “A victim?” he says. “Of what?” I sigh. “Hunter, I really appreciate the offer. But until I know Mateo isn’t crazy, I can’t accept the promotion.” “You’re kidding me, right? I put your name forward, and you’re going to make me retract my recommendation? What has a promotion got to do with anything? Is your new office going to be rigged with a bomb? Or does being top staff make you more susceptible to assassination? This is Knox
*** ~~SLOANE~~ *** The office has become my only place of freedom. Peace comes with knowing that the guards can’t follow me past these walls. They hover, always hover, but not here. They’re probably across the street right now, staring through binoculars from some rented suite or whatever. Watching. Waiting. Logging my every move. To be here—alone, unshadowed, unbothered—is the closest I’ve felt to breathing in the past few days. Of course, I still had to compromise before Knox stopped pestering me about quitting my job. There’s a discreet camera nestled inside the ceramic cactus pot on the corner of my desk. The mic is worse. It’s stitched into my bra strap today, but some days it’s clipped to the hem of my skirt or hidden in the tiny brooch Knox insisted I wear. It only needs to be on when I’m away from my desk, but I’ve forgotten a few times. And I paid for it with lectures. Today is Wednesday, and I’ve almost trained myself to ignore the constant eyes on me. Almost. It’s