Page 25 of Forbidden Bond

Witnessing life carrying on as normal chilled her. Ever reliable, Strat took her hand to help her out of the car.

Wannabe clubbers lined up behind rope, music beat from inside, men guarded the doors. Business as usual.

Strat kept his fingers laced through hers, providing support while letting her lead the way. She could queue. Considered it even. That would stretch the time between her getting from here to there, to finding him or not. But she couldn’t draw out the torture like that. She also needed to know. Conn said she’d never be turned away from Stag again. Never.

Fifteen feet from the car, she stopped. Strat stayed with her.

Closing her eyes, she breathed. If she stopped overthinking and just felt the moment, it could almost be okay. The sounds, the scent, Stag delivered her to a time without fear, one that included Conn in his office in that building. Her man. Her place. Her home.

Strat kissed the top of her head.

She exhaled, raising her eyes to his. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m here for whatever you need.”

And the only way she’d identify that was by going inside.

On the approach, the guys on the door weren’t familiar. Not all of Conn’s guys were, there were so many that it wasn’t possible to know every single one.

Strat’s hold on her hand tightened as her breathing slowed. Up ahead, ten paces away, the guys didn’t move. Five, four—they moved. Oh, shit, she nearly screamed. The guards each took a sideways step away from each other, opening up a clear route inside.

Always really did mean always.

Over the threshold, the heat of the club beckoned, but she stopped. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Want me to check down?”

She nodded. “If the guys are there and you get the story, come up.” Because if the guys were present, she still held some position. “If you don’t…”

“I’ll check here or get you at the car.”

If Conn wasn’t upstairs, if he wasn’t in that building, she wasn’t stopping there. Hopefully, someone would point her to him, give her an address, a clue, a next step.

With a single nod, she walked away. Strat stayed behind. The why was obvious, she still had to get upstairs. Men stood there too. Once upon a long time ago, she’d refused to ascend those stairs and been compelled to go up against her will.

What she wouldn’t give to go back and do it all over again.

These men didn’t move. Not at first. She held her ground. They glanced at each other, said nothing, then shifted out of the way.

Were they unsure of her identity or afraid what she might see? Death? Carnage? Heartache? Whatever it was, she’d have to face it sometime.

The stairs were clear. Not a good or bad sign. Could go either way. At the top, she lingered a second before opening the door to go inside.

She stopped short.

There were people there. Two, to be exact, a male and a female. She immediately recognized the first.

“Play,” she said.

Having spent a lot of time looking at pictures of Doran “Play” McDade and his relatives, it wasn’t hard to pick him out as another of Conn’s cousins, younger brother of Score, Raze, and Biz.

“Bluebell,” he said, a half smirk on his face.

Oh, she was interrupting. She’d been in that place. Up against the man propped on the table, nestled in the vee of his thighs, his hands on her hips. Different McDade, day, and woman, but it piqued her longing.

“I’m pleased to meet you.” This not from Play, but from the tall, gorgeous woman he’d been entertaining, or about to entertain on Conn’s desk. “You’re an intriguing woman.”

She continued a few steps. “I’m an intriguing woman?”

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