Page 89 of Lose Me In The Shadows

“You’re the most important thing in our world,” Conor said.

She might be covered in come, but they’d added care to the degradation, and both their words and full commitment to her punishment made their feelings real. And, as fucked up as it was, made her feel whole.

She sighed, settling back against Luke, who kissed her ear, whispering, “Thank you, sweetheart.” Louder, he said, “Something smells good. I’m starving.”

Micah shook his head. “That’s too obvious of a joke, even for you.”

Luke laughed. Kara giggled. Conor didn’t.

“They’re here,” he said under his breath, and all three men stiffened. Kara twisted her head, catching sight of a short, nondescript man flanked by two massive guards that could give Luke a run for his money.

This was it. Everything would change from here on out. And once it did—once their names were cleared, Kara could go home to Chicago without them. If she even wanted to, anymore.

I don’t want to.

Micah relaxed into his chair, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He winked at her.

“Showtime,” he said.

22

The man approached their table. “Ah, Conor, Micah, and Luke,” he said with a Parisian accent. He seemed fidgety, glancing around the room, barely clocking all the sex. He seemed afraid, like his death could appear at any moment.

But his fear didn’t stop him from being gross. Scanning the table, his eyes landed on Kara, curled up on Luke’s lap. “Marcus told me to expect the three of you and a woman. He hadn’t mentioned her name, or that she would be so lovely. No wonder Chris Johnathan was so…enamored.”

The air went tight.

“You must be Jean Pierre,” Micah said. His eyes were clear, face calm.

Jean Pierre nodded, still staring at Kara as if he could see all the residual come on her face and chest. Her stomach roiled.

Luke, sensing her discomfort, growled at the threat.

“Well, Jean Pierre,” Conor said, “I suggest you don’t look at her that way, or you’ll walk out of here without eyes.”

The two huge guards stiffened, briefly reaching for their guns, only to remember they didn’t have any. It was why Jean Pierre had requested the sex club as a meeting place—no weapons allowed. It didn’t matter, based on their size, their fists were their weapons. Jean Pierre’s eyes flicked to the long hallway toward the exit.

“Well, I flew all the way here from France to help, but if this is the reception I get…”

Kara forced her revulsion away and twisted forward. They were going to fuck everything up with their possessiveness. She took a deep breath and channeled the bad bitch negotiator that lived inside her—in the same apartment complex as the part of her that had managed to turn her men against each other once upon a time.

“You obviously know who I am,” she said, putting a calming hand on Luke’s leg. “And yes, you could leave now. But from my understanding, you owe Marcus a favor—and Marcus doesn’t seem like the type to deal kindly with people who renege on deals. So I recommend you sit down and tell us what we need to know. I also recommend you stop looking at me like you want to fuck me, or Conor will follow through on his threat, your guards will try to attack him, Micah and Luke will beat them to death for their efforts, and the staff here will be forced to try to get blood stains out of Berber carpet. Why don’t we skip the formalities, drop the posturing, and do what we came here to do?”

There was a pause. All the men looked at each other, considering—except Micah, who watched her, an approving look in his eyes. He nodded at her. She lifted her chin, aware there was still a drop of come that Luke had missed—perhaps intentionally—and nodded back.

After a moment, the two bodyguards relaxed slightly, crossing their arms over their chests.

Jean Pierre sat, eyeing her admiringly. “Where do I find a woman like you? They don’t all come like this here, do they?”

Kara’s men stared at him, not speaking, but the energy crackling around them was enough of a threat.

The man put his hands up. “Okay, okay.”

“Proud of you,” Luke whispered in her ear. “Even if you broke cover.”

She was proud, too. She relaxed against him—or at least pretended to. It was hard to do, knowing that the fragile truce could be broken at any moment. Everything was riding on this meeting.

“So,” Micah finally said. “What is it do you know, and do you have proof that can help us?”

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