Page 20 of Reclaim (Deadly Hearts 3)

ChapterNine

Ruby

As it turns out, I’m the one left waiting around like an idiot while Adam goes to change. He scrubs up well, though, arriving back on the driveway where I was impatiently tapping my foot, in a dark gray suit and white shirt.

“Fancy,” I drawl.

“Thanks.”

He takes the compliment at face value which is big of him.

We both climb back into the Hummer and with the entourage following, we head back into the city.

“This is becoming a bit of a ball ache,” I groan. “I just want to go home.”

“You can after this. Although, word is, Vinnie is on his way here.”

“For fuck’s sake. I’m getting whiplash,” I snap, more than pissed off with this.

“Yep, he is definitely a pain in the neck…and other body parts.”

I snort with amusement. “Hmm, indeed. So what is the protocol here? Do we like, fill in an application or something?”

“I guess we will find out in full when we get there. All I know now is that the supposed Heads of four different Societies use Solitaire as a home base. As well as it being an exclusive club on its own. The four of them have to agree to let you in. Word is, Maxwell James is the one you need to impress, though. Whichever way he votes, the others will follow. Every single vote is unanimous.”

“Interesting,” I murmur.

Gazing out of the window, we both go silent. I am itching to call my men so they know I’m okay, but there will be time enough for that afterwards. I intend not to be slowed down a minute longer than necessary. Am I concerned about what taking Vinnie down will do to me jail-wise? Yes, obviously. But honestly, at this point, I’d rather face a trial than be fucked about anymore. Besides, I’m sure my mom, and especially Rex, won’t stand for me being accused of murder and terrorism.

All too soon, we are pulling into a parking lot at the back of a swanky looking establishment. I climb out and wait for Adam to join me. I’m still dressed like a rock-chick assassin, but who cares. It’s not me I’m concerned about getting into this place. I’m here because of my connections, nothing else apparently.

We stride in the front door, which was surprisingly held open for us by a uniformed bouncer, who definitely won’t stand for any shit, and glancing at each other briefly, we make our way to the front desk of this exclusive club. This is where the real security is. You couldn’t sneak into this place even if you were a master thief.

“How do we apply to get in?” I ask the concierge bluntly.

Taken aback slightly, he lets out a laugh before he composes himself and gives us a haughty glare. “Who is asking?”

“Ruby Bellingham and Adam Taylor.”

I have the satisfaction of seeing his eyebrow go up and then he murmurs, “One moment, please.”

We wait for about a minute while he disappears in the back and then reappears with a Security guard who hails from the Land of Giants. I tilt my head back to look up at him as he glares down his nose at me.

“Mr. James will see you now,” he grunts.

Catching Adam’s gaze, we exchange a curious look. Guess we got lucky being here at the same time as the big cheese is.

We are ushered down a plush carpeted corridor and then up a flight of grand stairs before we are left to loiter at the bar. Adam orders a scotch, but I just want to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Ms. Bellingham,” a smooth, deep voice says to my left.

I look over and see a very attractive man in his mid-thirties, dressed impeccably in a navy suit. He beckons me to a spot further down the bar.

“Maxwell James?” I ask curtly.

“I am,” he replies, leaning on the bar and picking up a glass of scotch or bourbon and takes a sip. “I’m slightly surprised to see you in here. You belong in a different Sector.”

“I’m here on behalf of someone. Adam Taylor.” Might as well get straight down to it.

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