Page 79 of Marked

And not many people do anymore.

“They should. But we can’t do anything while we’re here. We’re going to get him alone, but to do that, we have to pretend we’re into all this crazy shit. So do as I say. Do not look at anyone.”

“All right, Zack. Don’t look at anyone, only you, and do exactly as you say.” She nods.

“Yes. And one more thing.” I squeeze her hand tightly, needing her to heed this part even more. “No matter what you hear me say in regard to you, remember that I will never let anything bad happen to you. I will protect you.”

“I know that, Zack.” She turns a trusting gaze up at me.

“Even if it sounds scary. I need you to trust me. Do you think you can do that?” It’s a lot that I’m asking of her. Hopefully not too much.

She grips my hand tighter. “I trust you, Zack. No matter what you say in there, I’ll go along with it.”

My perfect little bird.

“Good girl.”

The elevator dings our arrival and I straighten, dropping her hand and moving my toy bag to my other side.

Music with a fast, hard beat envelops us as the doors slide open. I step out first, waiting for her to come off the elevator before I continue on. She dutifully stays two steps behind me, to my left. Sweeping my attention across the club, I’mable to keep her in my view while searching through the crowd.

Security guards stand off to the sides, in corners of the room. No one questions if we belong here. As far as they’re concerned, having the passcodes is proof enough. Besides, if I’m a threat, they have enough politicians and judges in their pockets to get whatever trouble I might bring with me washed away.

Fucking sick.

This part of the club, the prelude to the real activities happening behind the door I’m leading us to, is intimate. The striking black dance floor, coupled with the mirrored ceiling, creates the illusion of space and glamour. Plush, black leather couches with red velvet cushions line the outer walls of the club.

We’re passing the black marble bar with red under-lighting, when someone steps off the dance floor, bumping into Harley. She knocks into me and bounces off, nearly falling to the floor before I grab her arm and steady her.

“Watch yourself,” I snap at her, then turn my gaze to the woman who caused the accident. A man hurries to her side.

“I’m sorry. She wasn’t paying attention.” He grabs hold of his woman’s arm and yanks her to his side. “Apologize,” he demands, shaking her.

“I’m — I’m sorry,” she stutters, her gaze flittering away from me and landing on Harley.

Harley looks to me, waiting for my direction.

Such a perfect girl.

I give her a nod.

“It’s all right. Just an accident,” she says, then turns back toward me, keeping her eyes down.

The man drags his woman back into the crowd, and I lead Harley to the main entrance of the real club.

“You’re doing wonderfully, little bird,” I whisper to her as I pull her in front of me and to the other side.

She keeps her eyes lowered, but I catch her proud smile.

As soon as I reach for the handle on the door, it’s yanked open and a man three times my size fills the opening.

“Need something?” He folds his arms over his chest. Very bodyguard-like of him. I wonder if he understands the art of subtlety at all.

“Yes. I need a potato and a fork.” I utter the last ridiculous passcode. I had thought Jeff was making a joke when he shot me a text just before we left. These idiots depend too heavily on their little codes.

The bouncer drops his arms and steps aside.

“Welcome.” He holds the door for us as we enter. Harley’s fear is ramping up. I can sense her, smell it on her. And if I can, others here will too.

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