Page 38 of Entombed In Sin

SAGAN

By the time we get to our final destination for the evening, I know Knox has won over Beatrix. Her hesitancy to smile at him has dissolved, and he’s even managed to get her to laugh. It’s not because she’s still drunk off her first kill, either. No, this is all Beatrix. I never doubted they would reconnect. Knox has a way with people that I will never understand. He can unthaw even the coldest bastard. Usually, with those ones, it’s only so he can see the shock on their face while he slits their throat.

I enjoy watching those kills.

While pleased with the situation, as the deep bass of the club rattles my insides, I’m beginning to wish he’d come up with a different idea to sway Beatrix to his side. Fighting off men who seem to seep from every corner of every establishment we’ve entered who want to talk to Beatrix has been a full-time job. They descend upon my pet, not seeing anyone else but her, stopping only when Thatcher or I move to block their view. I want to blame the outfit,andKnox who put it on her, but I know that’s not the case.

Beatrix is a naturally beautiful woman. But this evening, in that outfit, happy and clearly drunk, she’s a siren’s call. What’s more, she doesn’t even seem to notice the attention she’sdrawing. Clearly uncomfortable, she continuously adjusts the corset she wears or tugs at the skirt. Her shy, reserved nature is poking out, making her even more endearing and attractive to the fucking assholes of Chicago.

She will be the perfect bait once we eliminate the potential threat hanging over us.

Knox is just as appealing. I can see the curiosity and hunger in the expressions of those unfamiliar with his extravagance. Men and women alike are drawn to him. The overly used hyperbole; a moth to a flame comes to mind. He’s flirtatious, confident, and coy. His uniqueness and how he owns it makes those around him both envious and uncomfortable. They want to explore that, meaning they want him.

From where I stand on the second floor, against the wall and in the shadows, I watch the two of them dance. My heart clenches. I grunt at the warm, unfamiliar feeling gathering in my chest and then let out a pained groan as my heart suddenly swells painfully large at the sight of Beatrix turning to look at Knox and Knox smiling at her. They look good together. A smile teases the corners of my mouth. Knox might have found a way to win over my pet, but she seems to have wiggled her way under his skin as well. He’s let her in on one of the few places he doesn’t mind being touched. That’s a big step for him. It took him four months to tell us where we could lay our hands on him without it causing pain.

Annoyance erases the warm fuzzy feelings as a handful of men begin to crowd Knox and Beatrix. I bite the inside of my cheek. How dare others covet what’s mine?

“We should get out of here,” I grumble. The ‘before I do something stupid’ goes unspoken but Thatcher hears it loud and clear.

The woman leaning into Thatcher throws me a pouty look. “Don’t leave me, boys. I promise I can be fun.”’

“I can tell how much fun you could be,” Thatcher assures her, brushing a strand of her greasy black hair from her face. His other arm, wrapped around her thin waist, pulls her closer to him. TheJersey Shore-looking chick is about as fake as you can get. From the dark heavy eyeliner, the exaggerated plump lips, to her stiff as fuck tits—it’s all ridiculously over the top. And that spray tan? It makes her look like a rotten orange.

I can’t watch. My skin crawls every time he touches or pulls her close. I don’t know why. It’s never bothered me before when Thatcher flirts. In fact, we usually play off one another. Women and men alikelovewhen twins fight over them. None of them realize until it’s too late that our attention is deadly. Tonight, however, the thought of touching anyone else makes me want to vomit.

I understand why Thatcher’s toying with her. Two men standing stiff and uninterested in the dark corners of this place would draw unwanted attention. We’d make people uneasy and the whispers and looks would start. Having a woman fawning over one, or both of us, allows us to blend in. Still, I recoil whenever this woman attempts to reach out to skim her ridiculously long nails down my arm. If she touches me, I’m going to lose it. The only hands I want on me belong to the two people having fun on the dance floor below.

“Unfortunately, I think my brother’s right,” Thatcher continues with a rueful sigh that he exaggerates for her benefit. “We need to get going.”

“Oh, well, if that’s the case,” she shoots me a sly smile, “let me go to the bathroom and freshen up. Then the three of us can head out of here.”

“Sounds good, darling. You go do that and meet us by the back door,” Thatcher smiles at her and she practically swoons.

“I’ll see you in five, handsome,” the woman promises. After planting a kiss on Thatcher's cheek, she steps out of his arms.Turning to me, Thatcher’s new friend tries to do the same, but I pull away.

“Not interested,” I growl.

She takes that as flirting and giggles. “Sureyou aren’t. See you soon, tough guy.”

With that, she saunters away, overexaggerating the sway of her hips, hoping we’re paying attention. The minute she’s out of hearing range, she’s forgotten. Thatcher turns to me and says, “We’re being watched.”

I snort. “We’ve had someone watching us since the minute we sat down at the first restaurant.”

The guy tailing us has long since melted into the crowd, but I know he’s around. He’s been keeping his distance, but I’m not sure why. Is this strictly surveillance like the guy who’d followed us last night home from Briar Glen?

Thatcher nods. “The tracker really is active then…”

“You had your doubts?” I frown. Why would someone go through the effort of putting trackers that didn’t work on our cars?

“No, I just didn’t want to believe someone has gotten this close without us knowing until now,” Thatcher corrects with an angry huff. “It’s hard not to believe it, though, when we’ve had a tail for the past five hours.”

I shrug. “Want to take care of him?”

Thatcher thinks about it. As he does, my eyes sweep the crowd below again until I spot Beatrix and Knox once more. I watch as Beatrix suddenly pulls away from Knox, whispering something into his ear before she starts pushing her way through the crowd. It doesn’t take a genius to realize she’s headed for the bathroom. Knox continues to dance, but he turns and watches her, never letting her leave his sight.

Good boy.

“No,” Thatcher decides suddenly. “Let’s cut our time here short and do a family game night. I want to fucking rattle someone’s cage. Whoever it is doesn’t want us hunting ontheirterritory. Well, fuck that. I want to draw so much blood that the streets run red.”

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