Page 82 of Atlas
“Isn’t that an overreaction?” I ask. “He could have been an old friend of Kasey’s.”
“This goes deeper than Kasey. The guy we traced has other connections to the club.”
“Anita,” I mutter, and Atlas’s head whips my way.
“I told her,” Kasey admits.
“I have a meeting with her lawyer in five minutes,” Axel continues. “Until I know more, I want you to stay at the club too. My dad wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to you or Kasey.”
I give a slight nod.
“You can sleep in the room next to Kasey,” he adds.
We head out of the office and Atlas rushes after me. “Can we talk?”
“No.”
“Please, Rue.”
“She said no,” Kasey replies, taking my hand and dragging my upstairs.
Anita
“I think he’s overreacting,” I say, folding my arms as Tom pulls up outside the Chaos Demons’ clubhouse. “And what exactly could Axel possibly haveonDamien? They don’t even move in the same universe.”
Tom puts the car in park, his jaw tense. “I don’t know. But Axel said it could help, and I trust him.”
“Do you?” I shoot him a sideways look. “Because yesterday you were lecturing me to steer clear of men like Atlas. Now you’re personally chauffeuring me to their doorstep for safekeeping?”
“I had a conversation,” he says simply. “Things have changed.”
I stare at him, confused. “Since when are you on friendly terms with the club?”
Tom exhales like this has been a long time coming. “I’ve known Axel for a while. Longer than you think.” His fingers drum on the steering wheel, then stop. “Maybe I was out of line yesterday. I saw something between you and Atlas. I didn’t like it.”
I blink. “What are you saying, Tom?”
Before he can answer, the passenger door swings open and Lexi grins at me like she’s just won the lottery. “Welcome home.”
I slide out reluctantly. “This isn’t my home.”
“Oh, come on, Nita. You love us, and we love you,” she sings, tugging me into a hug that smells of leather, perfume, and danger.
Despite everything, I smile. “I guess it’ll be good to catch up.”
Axel doesn’t waste time. The second we’re inside, he takes us to the office. He closes the door, and the air shifts, heavier, more serious. We sit, but Axel doesn’t.
“I’ll get to the point,” he says, tone clipped. “Damien’s involved in illegal activity.”
I straighten in my chair, a laugh catching in my throat. “Sorry,myex, Damien? Damien Carpenter? The man who gets hives if his Champagne isn’t the right temperature?”
Axel slides a photo across the desk. “That Damien. He’s got a hitman looking for a twenty-one-year-old girl we’re protecting.”
I blink at the photo. It’s Damien all right—expensive coat, arrogant tilt of the chin. I shake my head. “You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not.” Axel’s voice is low but firm. “He thinks she stole from him, and now, he wants payback.”
“Okay, well, how much money are we talking here?” I ask, instantly regretting how flippant it sounds.
