Page 92 of Princes of Carnage

We called in a favor from an old contact of ours to get a passcode that will allow us entrance to the club, and I’ve memorized it. It’s in Latin, which is pretentious as fuck and only makes me despise Vincent more, but it definitely fits with the vibe of his club.

“Good.” Nico claps a hand on my shoulder. “Keep your eyes on Quinn,” he adds. “I know she’s determined to get answers, and she’s not wrong that this is our best chance. But Vincent Locke is temperamental as fuck. It doesn’t take much to piss him off, and if that happens, our chance is gone.”

I nod, my stomach twisting. “I’ll try to get a feel for what kind of mood he’s in before we talk to him. If I can.”

“Good. Get the info and get out. And make sure he doesn’t have any reason to tell anyone we’ve been poking around. The last thing we need is for this to get out.”

“He looks out for his own interests,” Killian chimes, rising to stand with us. He’s usually a bit hard to read, but right now, he looks almost as tense as Nico is. “And he prefers to keep to himself. He won’t insert himself in the middle of a conflict like this unless we give him a reason to.”

“Nice to find a shitbag who’s not opportunistic as fuck,” I mutter. “Someone else might sell us out to whoever we’re up against. Either for money or for shits and giggles.”

“Let’s not rule it out,” Nico warns. “Just in case. We need the info, but we need to play it safe.”

As we’re talking, I hear the sound of footsteps on the stairs. We all glance over to see Quinn coming down, and I freeze at the sight of her.

She’s distracting enough in her usual t-shirt and jeans, or the clothes she wears to do yoga, but this… this is something else altogether.

Her dress is black and so form-fitting that it might as well be painted on. The material has a soft shine to it, reflecting the light in a way that highlights every line and curve of her body. It’s short enough that it shows off her legs from the upper thigh down, putting the tattoo that crawls down her right thigh on full display. And it’s sleeveless, leaving her shoulders bare and her cleavage practically on offer.

Her hair spills down around her shoulders, and her eyes are lined with dark eyeliner and smokey eye makeup, drawing attention to how large and luminous they are.

She looks sexy as hell, but also like she could kick some ass if she needed to, even in that dress. The overall effect is fucking heart stopping, and I have to swallow hard, curling my hands into fists.

Distantly, I’m aware of Nico reacting to the sight of her, and there’s even a certain shift in Killian’s demeanor. He doesn’t move, and his expression doesn’t change, but his jaw is tight, and his eyes haven’t left Quinn since she entered the room.

She adjusts her dress as we stare at her, pulling it down in the back, which does absolutely nothing to make it any longer.

“What?” she asks, sounding grouchy.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus. This is a delicate task we have to take on tonight, delicate enough that I have to be on my game. The way Quinn makes me lose my fucking head every time I’m around her is going to have to take a back seat to business tonight.

“Are you ready?” I ask, not bothering to answer her question because there’s no good answer I can give.

“Yes. Let’s go.”

She strides toward the door in her heeled boots, but before I can follow her, Nico grabs her arm and pulls her back toward him. Quinn gives him an impatient look, which he ignores.

“One last thing,” he says in a low voice. “Vincent probably won’t be out in the main part of the club. He’s there every night, but he doesn’t mingle among the clientele. You’ll have to find a way into the back of the club to see him.”

She frowns. “And how do we do that?”

He huffs out a frustrated sounding breath, still holding her arm as if he can’t quite convince himself to let go yet. “I don’t know. That’s something you and Atlas will have to figure out when you get there. But don’t mention Carnage, and don’t mention me. He might not have heard about our marriage yet, but if he has…” Nico chuckles lightly. “Well, you can mention the fact that you hate me. No need to pretend with him.”

Something passes over Quinn’s face, as if she doesn’t particularly like Nico joking about her hating him. She schools her features a second later, but I know I’m not wrong about what I saw.

For a split second, my mind flits back to that night outside our club, when I shoved Zoey off my lap and ran outside after Quinn.

It’s not real.

That’s what she said about her marriage to my brother at the time, but I could hear the doubt in her voice, the subtle lack of conviction. Even she didn’t quite believe her words, and watching the two of them now, I can see why.

“We’ll find a way to talk to Vincent,” Quinn promises. “We’ll get him to tell us what he knows.”

Her eyes flick to me like she’s waiting for me to agree with her, and for once, I don’t look away, letting our eyes meet briefly as I nod.

“We will,” I confirm.

“Good.” Nico glances between us, then catches Quinn’s chin in his hand. “Be careful,” he says, then dips his head to kiss her lightly on the mouth.

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