Page 63 of Killing Emma

“He’s there, isn’t he?” I whip my head around to Jude. “Don’t fucking lie to me, either.”

“Does it matter? Are the two of you together or just in a weird situationship?”

I choke back hurt and anger. I’m such a freaking idiot. I swat at the tears and shove my chair back from the desk, committing the address to memory.

“Where are you going?” Jude calls after me. “You can’t show up there, Emma. You can’t.”

“Fuck off,” I shout back at him, tears now streaking down my face as I head for the garage. I don’t know where the stupid keys are.

“You can’t risk being seen.” A hand connects with my wrist, jerking me to a stop. “Your face is all over the news. You don’t wanna do that. You’ll get yourself—and Luca—killed.”

My shoulders fall in defeat, and I turn to face him. “I just need to see it for myself. I don’t want to play stupid anymore.”

Jude studies my face for a few moments, and then lets out a sigh. “Okay. Okay, I’ll take you. But again, The Den is complicated. It’s going to be a lot. It’s dark, so we can just disguise you. I’ve got some of my sister’s shit in my truck. Come on. We’ll see what we can do.”

***

“Your sister has interesting taste,” I mutter as I adjust the masquerade style mask on my face. I decided to wear my black skinny jeans and a black crop top I found in the bag of shit. Jude tried to convince me to put on a wig, but instead, I went for just putting my hair up in a high ponytail. In the dark, my hair color won’t be all that noticeable—not with this half-face mask.

“Does everyone wear masks?” I ask nervously as Jude pulls into the parking lot. His windows are all tinted with five percent, so he said I was fine to sit in the front. No one was probably going to be looking for me in California anyway.

“Most of the women do,” Jude answers me as he parks next to Lucas’s Ducati. “And some of the guys do, too.”

“Do you?” I turn to him.

His hazel eyes meet mine, and I realize they’re greener than hazel. In fact, maybe they are just green with flecks of brown. They’re actually stunning.

“I don’t wear a mask, no. I don’t have anything to hide being here. No one gives a shit who you are here, anyway.”

I nod. “Will he have a mask on?”

Jude closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. “No, probably not. They know Luca well here.”

My lips curls in disgust. “Gross.”

“You really don’t understand what you’re walking into.”

“A sex club,” I snap, shoving the door of the truck open and jumping out into the crisp early evening air. The club is tucked away, the entrance being located in an alley with the outside showing it as a warehouse.

“It’s hidden in plain sight,” Jude jokes. “And I’m sure the cops are paid off to let it be. That’s how shit works.”

“I know how it works.” I swallow the hurt and feed into my anger, suddenly imagining breaking a fucking glass over Luca’s head. I stalk toward the entrance.

“Whoa, you can’t go in without me,” Jude jogs to catch up. “You’re not going to be on any of the lists.”

Bile rises in my throat. It’s VIP. Great. Jude grabs my hand and gives me a reassuring smile when I cringe.

“Just for looks, okay?”

I nod and let him lead me to the stairwell set off the alley. We descend the steps to the plain black steel door. Sweat beads up under my mask, as Jude punches in a code on the door. It clicks, and he pushes it in. We step into an empty lobby—as if we’re in a waiting room. There standing next to another set of doors are a couple of guys who look like they eat small children for breakfast.

“Jude,” one of them says, lighting up a cigarette.

“Nate,” he gives him a nod, leading me to the double doors just past him. My heartbeat is rattling my ribcage now, and as Jude opens the door, it’s replaced with the heavy bass coming from a stage.

I’m not shocked by the topless women. I’m not shocked by anything I see thus far. Men drinking, women doing what they’re paid to do. My stomach churns, scanning the faces of the men with women on their laps.

No Luca.

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