Page 57 of Breaking Conviction
The last beat of the song ended, and Charity made her way down the stairs off the stage. On the last step, she turned her coy smile to Phoenix and waved before exiting through a side door.
“Gotta go, my dudes. The lady calls.” Phoenix hopped up only to be tugged back into his seat by Devil.
“Nope, I don’t like that look. I’ll take care of Charity.”
“Come on, man—”
“Devil’s got Charity, Phoenix,” Hawk commanded. “Your idea of a distraction might betoodistracting. You monitor the bodyguards.”
Phoenix grumbled his frustration but Devil ignored him, casually heading toward the door Charity had entered.
The two women Phoenix had “encouraged” slowly stalked toward the bodyguards. They stopped by other tables along the way, as if Phoenix had told them to be discreet, and when they were close to Wes, he took out his phone to pretend to text, making sure to dim the light so it wouldn’t illuminate his face to the cameras.
Just as the screen darkened again, a text messagedingedthrough.
My Queen: Be safe today
Wes felt his pulse in his throat as emotion threatened to choke him. It’d been a long time since anyone but his teammates and his sister had cared enough to worry about him. He quickly typed out a message, noting in the part of his mind that was still focused that the women had passed his table without issue.
Of course. I wouldn’t want to miss out on those cookies I heard you promising Princess T
He could imagine Naomi biting the inside of her lip, trying not to show off her gorgeous smile that was already so rare. He hated that she did that, tucked herself away to appear small. Whether it was out of shame, or to be less of a target physically, her habit made his stomach twist to the point of nausea.
Before he tucked his phone away, bubbles and a gray message came through.
My Queen: Well I’ll make the same promise to you. I told her if she’s good, I’ll bake cookies from scratch tonight. So be good troublemaker.
His cock twitched in his pants and he paused over the letters before finally typing.
… Define ‘good’
When there was a second of no bubbles, he made the decision to push. It was time for her to come out of the shadows she’d hidden in. His fingers flew over the screen to shoot off one last text as he grinned.
I’m trouble, remember? So tell me why I should be good… when I can make you feel good instead?
He tucked his phone in his pocket, knowing that text would get a rise out of her. If she took the bait, he’d make sure they’d finally finish what they’d started in the war room. The fire in her eyes that day had burned him up with need, and spending time with her since she started staying at BlackStone a week ago had only stoked the flame to an impossible degree.
“Your cue, Snake,” Phoenix’s voice brought him back to the mission. “The women have occupied the bodyguards. Devil’s got Charity. Time for you to rise to the occasion for once, Super Geek.”
Wes wouldn’t let the jab get a rise out of him, instead risking a glance to find the two women Phoenix had paid off had enticed the bodyguards and were giving them lap dances at the front of the club, facing away from the door. Wes had never understood how men could become enthralled with a random pair of tits. Phoenix might make fun of him for it, but if there was no connection, Wes didn’t want it.
He stood from the table and crept his way toward the private room Ascot had entered less than ten minutes ago, presumably to wait on Charity. Wes turned to see if the bodyguards were still occupied.
“Don’t worry, Super Geek.” Phoenix chuckled in Wes’s earpiece. “Tweedledum and Tweedledee are face-first in tits right now. Can’t guard much of anything if you’re motorboating.”
“Know from experience, Phoenix?”
Phoenix grumbled at Wes’s comeback, but if he came up with a retort, Wes didn’t hear it. Excitement was thrumming through his veins and the blood pumping muffled his hearing to listen to only what was important as he tucked himself inside the small room.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Once inside, Wes cataloged the room, noting the exit to the back hall in the corner, the small stage with a chrome pole, and a pleather couch with a man on his phone. Wes’s hands hung loosely by his hips, ready to engage his Taser at any time. He had a gun too, on his ankle, but that was for emergencies. Andrew Ascot would never constitute a physical emergency.
Wes took the moment to study one of Ashland County’s wealthiest. The harsh glow from the man’s phone put his features in stark relief. Ascot’s face had taken on that oddly smooth feline quality that the rich paid for to hide their age. He might’ve depended on Botox and plastic surgery to fool people, but it seemed he hadn’t bothered with his thinning gray-blond hair or his portly figure.
This was a man who bought, sold, andhurtwomen. Who played a part in killing Ellie’s best friend, and kidnapping Ellie, Nora and all those other women. A man who was now somehow inextricably intertwined with Naomi’s ex-fiancé. Men who hurt innocents were scum and Wes wasn’t sure what he’d do to Ascot if they didn’t desperately need him to find the mastermind behind the human trafficking in Ashland County.
“Ah, finally. I was wondering if I’d have to order someone els—” Andrew Ascot stood from his pleather seat and Wes took advantage of his momentum, immediately grabbing the man’s fat wrist. Ascot shouted and Wes shoved him against the wall before the man’s wild swing could make contact. With his other hand, Wes slammed the right side of Ascot’s head against the sheetrock. His skull only made a shallow impression in the drywall, but Wes knew he’d been struck hard enough to likely cause disorientation.
