Page 104 of Hate Mates

This has the potential to cause ructions throughout the city and the underworld.

Seeing that Toker is sticking firm with his decision to take a hands-off approach to solving the problem, I realise that I need to step in.

I signal for the music to be cut, and the lights turned on.

The area is illuminated immediately.

Our DJ obliges a few moments later.

Slash freezes, seconds before landing a knockout blow on Sander.

Revulsion coats his face.

Part of me understands his self-loathing.

My dominant reaction is annoyance.

He’s better than this.

Still, I guess every man has a breaking point and Slash has finally reached his.

After all, this showdown has been months in the making. Sander’s over-protective of his twin sister, especially after Venom left her and she lost their baby. Slash is head over heels for her, and he has the opportunity to shoot his shot while Venom is on the outs.

It’s sub-optimal, but it is what it is.

Like most things in our life, it all started with Alexander Kingsley’s return. His inability to accept the word no. The might of the Maddison clan exploited to fuel his obsession. A dozen victims left in his wake.

Alex is a spectre that lingers over Cherub, the two men who love her, and the club...

My own complicated past with Alex also rears its head.

I seek out the viper who set me in his sights.

Layla’s nowhere to be seen.

I should be relieved that the trash has taken itself out.

So why am I vaguely perturbed by her absence?

FOUR

Layla

Isnap a photo of Slash and Sander grappling on the dance floor, capturing the moment perfectly. One pissed off brother. One man betraying his best friend. A flushed face Cherub caught in the middle. Anger. Jealousy. Shock.Fear.

The trouble I can stir with this image is immense.

It’s not part of my mission, but it will aid my secret side-project.

While Luke is distracted by the drama, I become one with the crowd moving toward the exit. Dressed in black. Hair in my face. Hunched shoulders. Unassuming pose. I slip past the Shamrocks-owned security manning the door without being noticed.

My escape is flawless. Until I come across a man leaning against my personal, supposedly untrackable vehicle. A suit wearing man who looks out of place in the nighttime cityscape.

“Gabriel.” I greet my boss with respect in my voice and none of my shock at his presence visible. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Layla.” He acknowledges me with a tip of his head, then uses his chin to gesture toward the driver’s side of my car. “We need to take a little drive together.”

“Sure.” Once I’m settled in the front seat, I grip the steering wheel tight and stare straight ahead. My pulse is elevated, but I am determined not to show any outward signs of my panic. “Where to?”

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