Page 50 of Savage

“Eyes on me,” I said, and he looked up and held my stare as the guard checked him over. He showed no fear, just determination, and when the guard finished his pat-down, I winked at Cooper. When he wasn’t asking a million questions, he could follow an order.

We followed the guard to the VIP section, and as we drew close, the eyes of every one of the men and women occupying the couches turned in our direction. One of them included the man whose arm had to still be stinging after our confrontation, because he was shooting daggers my way.

In the center, a thin man sat cutting rows of white powder on the glass. I took a snapshot of him in my mind, committing his face to memory. Black hair slicked back and long enough that it curled up at the collar. A hooked nose that could’ve been genetic but also could’ve been the result of too many drugs and punches to the face. Dark grey suit that screamed money—drug money.

He only gave us a cursory glance before going back to what he was doing. “Who the hell are you?”

“You Mick?” I said.

Getting a question to his question had him scoffing. “Yeah. And who the fuck are you?”

“Clay Alexander. We’ve got a mutual acquaintance?—”

“Yeah, yeah, Vince. I heard. Doesn’t tell me what the fuck you want.”

“I want some of that Rapture of yours.”

He looked back up at me, this time with narrowed eyes. “Do you now?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Curiosity flashed across his face, and just like that, I had him.

“Have a seat, Clay.” He gestured toward the end of one of the couches, and the women sitting there hopped up immediately.

I took a seat and gave a slight tug on the chain tying Cooper to me. “On your knees,” I instructed him.

He complied, kneeling at my feet, keeping his gaze averted. I gripped him by the back of the neck and gave him a squeeze that appeared controlling but was meant to reassure him.

Or maybe I just wanted to touch him.

Mick watched us and snapped his fingers, signaling one of the women whose spot I’d taken. The dress she wore barely covered her, and it rode up even farther as she perched on his lap. He ran a hand up her thigh possessively, like he needed a plaything to counteract mine.

Two minutes in and I had him clocked.Egotistical narcissist on a power trip—that was Mick. But really he was nothing more than a pathetic piece of shit who wouldn’t be at the top of his trash heap long.

“What’d you say your name was?”

“Clay Alexander.” He wasn’t asking because he’d forgotten—he was too switched on for that. He was asking to see if I was lying. That was the way someone like him lived, always wondering if the person sitting opposite him was trying to take him down.

And I was, just not through legal means.

“That’s right, and who sent you again?”

“Vince. We done with the double checking? Or you want to run a fucking DNA test? I’m here to buy product. If you aren’t selling, then I’m done wasting my time.”

As I moved to stand, Mick held up a hand. “No need to be so hasty. I thought you were here to show your plaything a good time.”

My eyes cut to the fucker I’d told that story to and found his attention locked on Cooper where he remained kneeling at my feet.

“I don’t need to be here to do that. So if we’re done?—”

“Sit down.”

My jaw clenched at Mick’s order, and several of his minions braced themselves, hands moving to their hips. They were itching for a fight, but with Cooper in the mix, they weren’t going to get it from me. I was not putting him in the middle of another gunfight. Especially not when I was unarmed.

“I don’t take orders. Not from you, not from any-fucking-body.”

“Then why don’t you look at it as an invitation?” Mick leaned back on the couch and spread his arm along the back. “Sit down, relax, and we’ll chat.”

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