Page 49 of Forget Me Twice

As if her fucking Baker wasn’t the extent of her sins, she confirms my suspicion that she’s hitting up these bottom-feeders hoping to score. Not only that—that streetwise mouth of hers tells me it’s obviously not her first time.

My teeth grind so hard I expect to hear a crack.

The second Ace laughs, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and tugging while he shares a smug look with his Club brother. “Yeah, I think we might be able to do that. You got bus money?”

This one’s not bad looking, with a hint of surfer vibe, but his hair is cut in a douche-bro style and he’s got that overly-inflated sense of self-entitlement that low-ranked bangers all seem to have.

Sabine flashes him a stack of notes that must come from a hidden pocket somewhere on that sorry excuse for a dress.

The other guy tilts his chin back towards the hallway that leads to the Underground. “Slash’s Compounding’s still open downstairs. First landing, can’t miss it. Tell ‘em Beetle and Malibu sent you.”

Beetle and Malibu. No guesses there who’s who.

She gives them a finger wave and spins on her heels, ostensibly to continue on her way to the bathroom. But really, it’s a piss-poor attempt to hide her obvious interest in the mention of their boss.

Slash is well known to us. He’s one of the few guys in charge of their distribution that’s earned the MC’s highest rank of Spade. We know enough about him from their numerous attempts to recruit us since this place opened. He’s rarely here in the flesh.

But how the fuck doessheknow Slash? Sabine Winters hasn’t been in the city since…No, we would have found her by now.

All of these unknowns are going to send me to an early grave.

She reaches the restroom door and pushes through. Again my body seems to just make my decision for me, and I’m following her through the swinging door.

I kick it shut behind me, the music instantly cutting off, and pause to watch her. Without so much as a glance back, she strides confidently towards a plastic dispenser on the far side of the room, most likely looking for something to clean up with—and it’sthatthought that has red bleeding into the edges of the black fog.

Sabine doesn’t make it to her destination though, because I’m flicking the lock and then I’m across the room, grabbing her nape and slamming her up against the wall.

She hisses out her surprise, and I feel that familiar reflexive need to go on the defensive in the way she tenses and readies her muscles.

One spiked heel swings backwards looking for a target, at the same time an elbow shoots out to connect with the middle of my chest. I manage to twist my upper body so that her thrust only grazes my ribcage, but her foot manages to connect with my shin. I grunt at the sharp burst of pain but I don’t let her go.

Her cheek is pressed against the cold tile but she’s facing the cracked length of the mirror. When she sees who is responsible for the weight at her back, she huffs out once in frustration, and then drops her shoulders.

Our ragged breaths mingle and echo around the room. She smells like sandalwood beneath the acrid smells of the club.

“Sinclair. Nice of you to drop in. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Beer?”

I grab Sabine’s shoulder and spin her roughly, my right hand deftly sliding from the back of her neck to nestle against the front of her throat.

My thumb sweeps over her pulse point and I feel it when it jumps, the elevated beat mirroring my own.

The blue lights in here are designed to make finding a vein hard, but it also means it’s difficult to see the color of her eyes. I know they’re gray but I can’t tell if the ones I’m staring into arehereyes.

I squeeze my fingers in warning, expecting to see fear blossom across the guarded look I find there. Instead the wariness shifts and is replaced by something a lot more heated. She doesn’t even bring her own hands up to try and remove my hold. If anything she presses into it.

Was her heart rate elevated because she’s on edge, or because she’s…turned on?

My cock gives an answering twitch.

For the first time since I committed to delivering this lesson, I realize that I might be the one who’s in over my head here.

My eyes dart to the prominent scar on her temple. It’s a stark reminder that I really don’t know who she is any more.

What she’s capable of.

The thought leaves a sour weight in my stomach, and indecision crowds in. I can’t decide if I want to continue eking out this punishment or somehow get her to open up to me.

As if she can see the war raging in me, a sultry smile tips Sabine’s darkly stained lips. Something about it feels a lot more genuine than the one she gave the two Aces outside.

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