Page 105 of Princes of Carnage

“Thanks,” I reply, my brow furrowed. “We appreciate the heads up.”

“My pleasure. Anything to help a beautiful woman such as yourself.” His cold business persona melts away, and he fixes me with a heated smile. “And now that we’ve finished with that business, you’re welcome to stick around. Maybe see if a… private show would suit you.”

Judging from the way he’s looking at me with hunger in his eyes, I can tell exactly what sort of show he wants. My skin crawls at the thought of it, and Atlas’s hand tenses on my knee.

“Thanks for the offer, but we really have to get going,” he says firmly.

For a second, I wonder if Vincent will let it go so easily. His mouth goes tight at the corners, as if he doesn’t like being denied. But then he smiles again, more coolly this time. “Of course. Maybe we’ll see you here again sometime.”

He presses a button on the end table beside the couch, and the door to his lounge swings open. That same woman from earlier is there, ready to show us the way out. We get up from the sofa we were seated on, and Atlas puts a hand on the small of my back, letting me leave first as he follows close behind.

I can feel the tension in him, the way he seems ready to fight at any moment, and it’s the same way I feel. Neither of us let our guards down as we move back down the hall and through the club again, where the woman leaves us.

On the stage, the trio from earlier are going at it hot and heavy on the bed, one man fucking the woman in her pussy and the other one buried deep in her ass. Her cries echo through the space, and the crowd cheers them on.

When we finally step out of the club and back into the parking lot, it feels like I can finally breathe again. The cool night air on my face is a relief, and as we make our way to the car quickly, I’m hyperaware of the two guards at the door watching us retreat.

I slide into the passenger seat, not even bothering to gripe about the fact that Atlas is driving this time. As he starts the car and pulls out onto the street, I twist my fingers together in my lap.

The mission was a success, all things considered.

We got the info we needed, and we made it out in one piece.

But the cost of the information we got isn’t lost on either of us. The drive home is awkward and silent, the unspoken questions and lingering memories of what we did hanging thickly between us now that we’re out of danger. We didn’t have a choice in it, but that still leaves us to deal with the aftermath of it all.

Neither of us speaks as we drive through the darkened streets back to my house, and I try to use the opportunity to reconstruct the walls around the most vulnerable parts of my heart that came tumbling down as Atlas fucked me.

But it’s harder than I thought it would be. And even though I try to ignore it, I can still feel the stretch of Atlas’s cock inside me and the evidence of his climax between my legs.

33

NICO

The waiting is always the worst fucking part.

I couldn’t go to Eros with Quinn for good reason, but waiting at home for her and Atlas to come back makes my skin itch.

I take the time to poke around the house, shuffling through the desk in the office and pulling books off the shelves to crack them open, but even that can’t hold my attention for long.

Killian is out dealing with business at the clubhouse, and the place feels fucking empty in a way I’m not used to. I shouldn’t mind having the house to myself for a while—it’s probably a good thing—but right now, I hate it.

Finally, a few hours after they left, I hear a car pull up outside and a door slam.

I head into the living room in time to see Atlas and Quinn come walking into the house. They’re both quiet, their bodies held stiff with tension, and I frown. They both made it back in one piece, so it couldn’t have gone too badly.

“What happened?” I ask.

“We got the info,” Atlas reports, looking over at me. “You were right about Vincent keeping tabs on shit. He had some useful intel for us. According to him, our attacker is most likely a former mercenary, trying to do his own shit now. Name is Silas Duran.”

I nod, taking that in. The name doesn’t mean anything to me, but that’s not completely unexpected. It just means that this probably isn’t personal. Just some new up-and-comer with delusions of grandeur, instead of someone with a vendetta.

“That’s a place to start, at least,” I murmur, rubbing my chin thoughtfully. “And him being a former mercenary makes sense, in a way.”

“How?” Quinn asks. She’s still standing close to the door, her arms crossed over her chest.

I shrug. “They’re used to getting their hands dirty. There aren’t a lot of jobs you could offer a good mercenary and have them turn it down. So killing our people was probably just another Tuesday for him. He’s probably used to staying elusive, protected by the interests of whoever hires him regularly. Which explains why he’s being so fucking bold about it all.”

“Makes sense.” She nods shortly, staring at the wall as if she’s thinking it through. Her gaze darts up to me and then around the room before settling on the floor this time. She’s looking anywhere but at Atlas, and he seems to be doing the same thing, giving me all of his attention in a strangely exaggerated way.

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