Page 33 of Tangled Souls

Honestly, it would be par for the course with us.

CHAPTER 12

BAKER

Fuck our woman looks damn good. I can’t tear my eyes away from her leather covered ass or the way her pants hug her legs and hips. The whole outfit, including the red sparkly top she has on which barely covers her, but costs more than I can imagine, is hot as fuck on our woman. It’s not just the clothes though, it’s the confidence she has.

The sway of her hips is hypnotizing and the badass heels she has on makes me think about fucking her later with only her heels on. It’s hard to concentrate on anything else.

But I need to be on my game tonight.

Kirill is in the front of the group with Oaklynn on his arm with the rest of us flanking them on both sides and behind. My gut is screaming at me that this is a bad idea.

But then again, I think anything that puts Oaklynn close to danger is a bad idea. There’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll be able to protect her, but she shouldn’t have to be protected. She should just be safe.

The line outside of Pulse groans as we walk right by it and head straight toward the entrance. There’s no way we’re waiting in the fucking line. And if the people in it knew who we are theywouldn’t make a fucking sound.

I glare at a few guys who let their displeasure be known far too loudly. It shuts them up instantly and then they suddenly find everything other than the five of us interesting.

Good.

Oaklynn’s soft giggle has me looking her way and I find her brown eyes taking me in. She looks around me like she’s searching for something as amusement dances in her gaze.

“What?” My curiosity gets the better of me and I can’t help but asking. She’s up to something, it’s easy to read as much on her face.

“Oh,” she coos, “I was just looking for the octogenarian who must be using you as a puppet.” My mouth drops open, and she winks at me while patting my chest. “It’s the only explanation for you acting like an old man.”

I gasp and press my hand to my chest. “You wound me, Little Bee.”

She laughs, the sound wrapping around me and sticking to my skin as the bouncer leads us through the entrance, his eyes averted once Maxim worked his magic. Maxim made it clear who we are and who we are here to see.

Oaklynn’s voice drops, her words meant for me alone, “I know you’re worried and I get it. One of the things I love about you is how protective you are, Baker, but you also need to relax a little.”

“I’ll relax when we’re back home,” I grumble.

She makes a humming sound and then whatever else she was going to say gets lost as Aamon pops up out of nowhere,his booming voice full of jovial charm as he greets Kirill, “Mr. Volkov, this is a surprise.”

“I hope it’s a good surprise, Aamon,” Kirill’s tone is filled with ice and warning.

Aamon, to his credit, looks thoroughly chastised and starts to nod like he’s a fucking bobble head figurine. He’s a good ‘yes’ man, but it’s about all he’s good for.

I don’t trust him; none of us do.

He’s dressed in an expensive suit which is tailored to fit him perfectly. He’s leaner than any of us, but he doesn’t look weak. I’m sure he hates the fact that he’s a few inches shorter than me and the rest of the guys, probably under six feet tall if we were to pull out a measuring tape.

His black hair is slicked back, and it makes him look oily. I always prefer it when the outside package matches someone’s personality. And when it comes to Aamon, everything about him screams creep.

When I notice him eyeing Oaklynn like she’s a fucking meal, I clench my hands into fists to stop myself from wrapping a hand around his throat. He’ll get his soon enough, I’m sure, but I just hate the way he’s looking at her.

“You and your men are always welcome here,” Aamon tries to sound magnanimous as he forces his gaze back to Kirill. He can’t hold it though, his eyes going back to Oaklynn almost immediately while not caring that we’re taking up far too much space in the vestibule. The bass from the club vibrates through our feet while not encroaching to the point we can’t be heard. “And who is this? You brought me a little present, Kirill?” The question oozes from him and has our wife arching an eyebrow, disdain written all over her face.

“When did I ever give you leave to address me by my first name?” Kirill growls out the question, the threat hanging in the air with his words.

“I’m not here for you,” Oaklynn’s voice takes on a cultured tone she uses when speaking to someone who isn’t worth a piece of dirt stuck to her shoe. “I’m here for a night out with my husbands.”

“Your husbands?” Aamon chokes out the words as his eyebrows shoot up to his slicked back hairline. “I had seen something about Mr. Volkov getting married, but…,” his words trail off and he looks like he’s at a loss.

It would be comical if I weren’t busy keeping my eyes moving to ensure we aren’t caught by surprise. We’re deep in unknown territory and being alert and ready is the only defense I have. Well, and my weapons.

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