Page 51 of Deliverance

“I’ll live too.”

The heavy beat of the song fades and some of the dancers begin to vacate the floor, many heading upstairs, where I spy several booths where I assume the gang we came with is hiding.

“Okay, folks!” the DJ announces. “There’s a time to throw down and there’s a time to relax.”

Apparently, this means fucking slow dancing.

I haven’t done one of those…ever. Except maybe the day Justice married Nikki. I was drunk and don’t remember much or who my partner was. What I do remember is that she had great tits and gave me a blowjob later on in the bathroom, which is an absolute must at a rock’n’roll wedding.

Ah, the debauchery of my twenties.

“Let’s go get another drink,” Drew says, charging for the bar.

Apparently, slow dancing isn’t her thing either. Although I don’t mind embarrassing myself in front of strangers if that means I can hold her. The dynamic between us keeps shifting like sand. But if there’s at least one thing I can be sure of, it’s that I continue to get sucked into this odd and dangerous world that is Drew Kadence. More and more with each passing second.

“So what’s this exactly?” I ask once the bartender gives us our Long Island Iced Teas. “A secret dance party for VIPs only?”

“Something like that.” She bites the tip of her straw and one corner of her mouth curls up.

My stomach bottoms out at the sight of this devilish smile that she hasn’t shown me until now. Apparently, there’s a whole arsenal of expressions I’ve yet to see. “And I assume Santiago’s the one with all the connections?”

“He’s friends with Layla.” Drew motions at the mezzanine area. “The girl who’s co-DJing tonight.”

“And you usually don’t bring any guys to these things?” I follow through with the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue ever since I found out why Santiago’s so hyper.

“I usually don’t attend these things.” She pauses and like the dumb fuck I apparently am around her, I hold my breath and wait for the rest of her answer. “You keep asking about my process…”

There’s more. There should be, but she never elaborates, and I’m left guessing because we get interrupted by a barrage of newly arrived people.

Some of them, all young and blithe with rapt expressions on their faces, know Drew. One turns out to be a Bleeding Faith admirer and attacks me with a bunch of questions, mostly about Leo. I brace myself for one hell of a dodgeball game. The news announcing my replacing Ashby is still hot off the press, and typically, clueless fanboys like the dude wanting to know if I can hook him up with a backstage pass to a show that hasn’t even been announced yet don’t bother me since it’s part of the trade. But one does today.

At some point, Drew picks up on my unease. Blurting out some lame excuse, she wraps her arm around mine and nudges me in the direction of the metal staircase in the corner across the room. We weave through the sweaty crowd and climb to the mezzanine level with one intention—getting away from the nosy assholes.

As we cruise along the dimly lit curving walkway overlooking the floor, Drew points toward the entrance to a small balcony.

She rushes out to the railing and stares at the flickering city lights stretching beyond the flat roof of the neighboring building. “Wow. This is nice.” Her voice is low and rough from all the screaming we’ve been doing tonight.

There’s only one other couple out here, and the distant buzz of downtown blends with the bursts of laughter and music spilling from inside the club. In a way, we’re stuck between worlds. People rushing through traffic to get home and people burning through life as if there’s no tomorrow.Which one am I?

After a few moments, Drew spins to face me and nibbles the tip of her straw. “You're a shitty dancer.” A cheeky smile pulls at her lips as she presses her back against the railing, her gaze roving over me. Hooded. Smokey. Insidious.

She’s buzzed. Pink has colored her features.

“People don’t care about my dancing skills.” I take a step forward to close the distance between us but halt once the space shrinks to just a few inches. There’s a knot in my stomach.

“You’re dangerous, Zander Shaw.” She gulps the rest of her drink down, her eyes never leaving mine.

“So are you, Drew Kadence.”I just don’t know in what way.I can’t remember a time when a woman has intrigued me this much. It’s always been easy, but never easyand terrifyinglike it is with her.

We look at each other for the longest time.

“Attack is the best defense,” she whispers finally.

“You believe you need to defend yourself from me?” I inch toward her, but my hands don’t dare act on my desires. Here, without the disguise of the crowd and music, touching her the way I really want feels wrong. No. Not wrong. Just unsubstantiated. I can’t read her the way I can usually read other women. There’s always a tell, however subtle. Be it a sparkle in their eyes or lip biting. With Drew, it’s utter anarchy. An array of contradicting signals, and I know I only have one shot with her.

“Do I?” She pauses for a second, her head tilting to the side slightly as if she needs to see me from a different angle. “Have a reason to be afraid of you?”

“Only my horrible dance moves.”

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