Page 153 of Double Bucked

I need to wake up from this terrible fucking nightmare.

“Fuck it,” I hear myself say. I take his vial, pop off the top, and fit it under my nose. Uppers to counteract the downers.

The men give a whoop and cheer. My blood rushes. Pounding. My heart takes off, leaping against my rib cage. The roaring, underwater ocean noises in my ear…finally dissipate, like the tide pulled out to sea, never to return.

I take in a deep, gulping breath and look at myself in the mirror. I’m a wreck. But I can see. I can hear. Everything that was foggy and hazy is now painfully crystal clear.

Alive. I’m alive.

The wolf tattoo on my forearm snarls and growls at me. It’s ravenous and ready to sink its teeth into the throats of everyone in this building.

“Okay. Let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit!” Rafe smacks me on the back, and like a pack, the men exit, barking and howling.

When I re-enter the library, the assault on my senses almost knocks the breath out of me.

Before, it was a low, sinking sensation. Now, I see everything clearly. Too clearly.

I can walk, but now I need to run. The music is too loud, like toothpicks pricking my eardrums over and over. I need my headphones. The sound makes me want to rip my ears off, and I cover them with my hands, grinding my teeth against the noise.

Dragonfly doesn’t like this.

Rafe fits into the scene seamlessly. He climbs the table and starts dancing to the music. Immediately, he’s flocked with hands. Lips.

Take a breath. You can survive this.

Slowly, I lower my hands from my ears. I breathe into the pain.

I notice things I didn’t before. In the shadows, security men remain quiet and cold. They’d take me down before I managed to get out the door.

So I’m going to have to find another way out.

My answer comes in the form of a pair of eyes. They meet my gaze from across the room. I watch as the woman slides out of another man’s lap and walks through the sea of people to get to me.

Mary-Kate. Claire’s friend. She wears a thin, dark dress, the strap hanging off her shoulder.

“James,” she says. “Haven’t you strayed far from home. Does Claire know you’re here?”

Her hands slip over my shirt. Slowly, she begins undoing the buttons.

(Don’t touch me. Get your hands off me.)

I counter, “Mary-Kate. Does your husband know you’re here?”

That draws a smile from her. “What they don’t know won’t kill them.”

She has her phone tucked into her bra. She pulls it out now, and her fingers fumble over the screen. She holds the phone up to my ear and scans the QR code. I watch as she punches in a couple more buttons, then tucks her phone away, satisfied.

Her body leans against mine. Into my ear, she says, “You’re mine for the next two hours.”

Then she links her fingers in mine and tugs me to the door. She flashes her phone to the guard—showing her receipt for me, I assume—and he nods before opening the door and leading us out.

My feet push me forward, my heart thrumming, and all I can think is:

She’s here. In this house.

Somewhere.

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