Page 19 of Slaughter

Alex grabs my arm, and I allow her to lead me away from the bar and down a hallway to a private room that reads greed on the door.

“There’s my girl.” Milton, a guy I’ve been sleeping with for the past three years, sits on a couch with his arms out wide when we walk in. “Come,” he orders, patting his thighs.

Like the lap dog he thinks I am, I obey. Plopping down, he places his hands on my face and pulls me down for a kiss. It’s wet and messy, but I don’t pull away.

Alex sits down on her friend’s lap. The guy is a major drug dealer here in New York. Whatever you want, he gets it.

“Brent, get our waitress to bring the girls some drinks,” Milton orders his other friend who sits in a chair. Then he looks back at me. “Where you been, baby?”

“The bar,” I answer and lean into him. Forget about Avery. I’m done seeing him. There’s a disco ball hanging from the ceiling, and someone turns it on, making all the colors bounce off the walls. I blink a few times, thinking the room is spinning.

“You okay?” he asks me.

I nod my head and close my eyes.

“Here. Give her some of this,” his friend offers, handing Milton a baggie full of what I know is cocaine.

“No.” I push it away.

“Babe? Come on. It’ll help you sober up, and then you can drink more.” He places the bag in front of me again.

“I said no.” I push off him and storm out of the room. I run into a few people as I make my way through the packed club, not really knowing where I’m headed. The place is crowded. Seven Deadly Sins just opened last week, and tonight is our first time here. It already has a reputation. Word spreads fast in this town.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I come to a stop. I spin around, looking to see why I all of a sudden feel like I’m being watched.

Is he here?

Could Avery have followed me tonight? Is he still in town?

It wouldn’t be a stretch. He’s showed up twice now in the past two weeks. And I have a feeling he’s not leaving New York until he locates my brother.

Someone bumps into me, and it causes me to spin around. I trip over my heels and fall into a set of arms. “I’m sorry …” My words trail off when I look up into a set of familiar brown eyes.

They narrow on me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” my brother demands.

“Preston?” I blink, confused.

“Fuck, Pres.” He grips my upper arm and starts to drag me through the crowd.

“Ow.” I whine, trying to keep up with him. “You’re hurting me.”

“I don’t have the time to babysit your ass.” I can barely hear him over the music.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. Last I heard, he was in London. But that was a month ago. He didn’t sound like he was in New York when I spoke to him last night.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls me through the exit, and there’s a black Hummer parked right outside.

“Preston …”

He opens the back door and shoves me into it before jumping in himself. I turn on him. “What the fuck are you doing?” I snap.

“Business,” he says.

“Business?” I repeat as the driver stomps on the gas. “If you’re here for work, then why did you just drag me out of the club?”

He pulls his cell out of his pocket and starts typing away. “Because you’re business, Pres,” he says.

I sit back in my seat, cross my arms over my chest, and let out a huff. “Take me home,” I demand.

---