Page 38 of Stalked
He shrugs. “Summer's always good for business. Kids out of school, families looking for entertainment.”
“Perfect cover,” Remy adds.
Knox grins. “You know what they say—join the circus, see the world, smuggle some blow.”
“Nobody says that,” I counter, watching as the bricks continue to fly from hand to hand.
“They should,” Knox replies. “Catchy slogan.”
Tyson laughs. “I'll put it on the posters next year.”
“I meant to ask,” I say, watching as the efficient drug transfer takes place. “How's Sofia handling the carnival life these days? Still trying to redecorate your trailer with those fancy Italian imports?”
Tyson's face softens at the mention of his wife. “She's good. Pregnant again, actually. Due in November.”
“Shit, man.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, number two, right?”
“Yeah,” he says with a proud grin. “Anthony’s eighteen months old now.”
Knox whistles. “Damn, you've been busy.”
“What about Tilly?” I ask Phoenix as he emerges from behind a stack of crates, laptop tucked under his arm. “Still putting up with your tech-hermit bullshit?”
Phoenix flips me off, but can't hide his smile. “She's developing a new game. Some virtual reality thing that's got the indie scene buzzing.”
“And Eden and Luna?” I nod toward Remy.
“Eden’s great, and Luna’s growing quick,” Remy answers, his usual brevity intact despite the pride in his eyes.
Nash calls over from the line, “Flora's pregnant again, too. Just found out last week, and Lucas is only five months old.”
“Jesus,” Knox laughs, “is there something in the carnival water? You guys are like a traveling baby factory.”
“Better than your sorry ass,” Colt retorts, tossing the last brick. “When are you Blackwoods gonna settle down? You're not getting any younger.”
I force a laugh with the others, but my mind immediately snaps back to Lia. Little do they know I've been working on exactly that for fifteen fucking years. The gallery is just the beginning. Three weeks until the Hunt, and then she'll understand that there was never any escape from what started that night after prom.
“Last one,” Jenson announces, securing the van doors.
The familiar tightness returns to my chest when I think of Lia, completely unaware that I orchestrated her return. That every art piece she'll display at the opening will pass through my approval first.
I check my watch. Time to get back to more important matters.
15
LIA
Itoss my phone on the bed and stare at the ceiling of my apartment, restless energy coursing through me. It's been a week since my run-in with Vane, and I've thrown myself into gallery preparations to avoid thinking about him. But nights are the hardest. That's when my body betrays me, when memories surface of things I've left behind in New York.
Not just the excitement of the art scene. I miss The Red Room.
For five years, that exclusive BDSM club was my sanctuary. A place where I could surrender control in a way I never allowed myself elsewhere—except on prom night. My Doms there—particularly Charles and Everett—knew exactly how to push me to my limits while keeping me safe.
I roll over and grab my phone again, rereading the email I received this morning.
Ms. Morgan, your application for membership at Purgatory has been received. Please attend an interview this evening at 9 PM. The doorman will be expecting you.
Purgatory. The most exclusive sex club in Ravenwood. Now that I'm back, it was the first thing I researched when the nights got too long and my fingers wandered beneath the sheets without satisfaction.
