Page 118 of Slay Ride

Eve appears on the dancefloor, her glistening gown anything but inconspicuous as she weaves through the crowd. I don’t know how she’s supposed to help me sneak around when she’s shining like a fucking lighthouse.

When she reaches my little grove of misery, she sits next to me on the couch and leans in, placing her hand around my ear. “Go to the corner we talked about. As soon as you step inside, you’ll have exactly thirty minutes. Set a timer on your watch, and don’t overstay your welcome. Past thirty minutes, you’re on your own. And take this.” She slides something into my hand, and I look down.

It's Maverick’s mask.

“Hang it on the door,” she adds.

Realizing her plan—or part of it, at least—I nod my thanks and hurry to the cubicle in the western corner of the room.Before stepping inside, however, I look around for Cat. She’s seated at a table beside Kindra. And there goes Eve, heading straight for them.

She catches my eye before stepping toward them. She plans to keep Kindra occupied while I tuck myself away from view. That has to be the scheme. The woman is a genius.

The moment Kindra’s head turns toward Eve, I hang Maverick’s mask from the cubicle door and slip inside.

When Cat and Eve said they were setting up little sex pens, they weren’t kidding. In the center of the box is a deep couch, covered in the same crushed velvet as the chair on the opposite side of the room. My heart goes out to whoever has to clean our remnants from this fabric, because despite the big bowl of condoms on a small table, I plan to go in raw and make a mess.

The thought of making Cat squirt while surrounded by all of our friends does something to me. This feeling is vile, filthy, and demanding. I love it.

Muffled voices filter through the music, and I recognize one of them as Cat. Another is Eve, and the third sounds an awful lot like Kindra. I duck behind the couch as the door swings open.

“Eve, he isn’t even in here,” Kindra says. “I told you I saw him leave the fucking ballroom! This is probably some diabolical plot Bennett cooked up to hurt her feelings.”

Her feet venture toward the couch. I see them as I peer through that thin strip of nothingness between the furniture’s bottom and the floor. And they’re getting a little too close for comfort. One more step?—

“He probably went to the bathroom!” Eve’s heels join Kindra’s flats, and they move away from the couch together.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Let’s just give Cat some privacy. If he hasn’t shown up in a few minutes, we’ll let her out of here.” Eve’s voice sounds furtheraway. She must be pushing Kindra out of the cubicle. I’ll have to remember to send her a Christmas card this year.

The door clicks shut, muting their voices and deadening the music a bit. I don’t know what these little walls are made of, but they’re surprisingly soundproof. It would make for a nice little portable torture chamber. You know, for killers on the go.

Cat’s shimmering pink heels move closer to the couch, and the springs below the cushions squeak when she sits. Silently, I readjust my position so that I’m on my knees behind her.

I’m close enough that my breath disturbs the small hairs at the back of her neck. She raises her hand to pat them down as goosebumps race over her otherwise smooth skin. It’s an instinctual reaction; her body knows the beast is close.

I raise my hand to her neck and allow my fingers to trail over her skin in a gentle, romantic gesture. In my head, I pictured her turning and seeing me, then smiling. Instead, she doesn’t bother to turn and look for what has touched her. No. She goes straight to jumping three feet in the air and letting out a scream that could shatter glass.

As I try to stand to show her she has nothing to fear, my bowtie tangles in the ornate wooden carvings running along the top of the couch. I’m locked in place, unable to hide and save myself when the door flies open.

But as luck would have it, Kindra hasn’t rushed in to save the day. It’s . . . It’s my brother.

“Ezra, oh thank god,” Cat says as she rushes into his arms. “I came in here to wait for Be-Maverick, and?—”

She turns, and that’s when she finally sees me. I give her a sheepish wave.

“Oh, shit.” She hurries to close the door behind Ezra. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Yeah, shit is about right,” Ezra says. “Kindra wanted to come over here and make sure you were okay. I practically had to beather away from the door as Eve tried to distract her. How many people are in on this now?”

Cat covers her face and groans.

“Damn near the entire retreat, at this point,” I say. I motion toward my bowtie. “Little help?”

“She can help you.” He points to Cat. “I’m off to forget I ever saw you in here. At this rate, I’ll be divorced before I’m even married.” With a shake of his head, he exits the booth.

Cat hurries over to begin the Rubik’s cube that is my bowtie. After a few seconds, she groans and sits back. “You’ll have to take it off. It’ll be easier that way.”

“We only have twenty-three minutes left. Maybe we should both strip and save ourselves the trouble.”

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