Page 33 of Say My Name

She stares at me for one long second. A million things can happen in a second. A baby takes its first breath. Someone can take their last. You could lose someone you never thought you would. Or you can fall.

“I should get back to work,” she whispers.

I nod. “I think you should.”

Fuck, what just happened?

My Bugatti sports car is one of the fastest in the world. It can go from zero to sixty in two point four seconds, and yet I’ve never driven her at top speeds. However, right now, I need to escape.

There’s a war going on at Club Greed, and I don’t even know who I’m fighting. Battles where the enemy stays hidden are the worst kind. Like a sniper in the brush, ready to take you out when you least expect it.

But I won’t go down without a fight.

I focus on the winding road by the coast, topping out around ninety miles per hour, not really sure what to even make of the whole situation.

There’s a ball of tension knotted between my shoulder blades and a fire burning low in the pit of my belly.

I’m like she said, overstressed.

Overworked.

Tired.

Yet, I can’t stop or I’ll lose everything.

Everything about Club Greed is perfect.

Except for the motherfucker who’s waged a war.

I press on the accelerator, speeding up slightly. When I left my house this morning, I just needed to get away from it all.

From thoughts of Swan.

It’s been nearly a week since I crossed a line with her. I can’t let that happen again.

After I talked about touching her while her boyfriend watched, I haven’t seen her. The rest of the week I stayed holed up in my office, trying to put together a list of suspects.

If I were in a place to turn away applicants, I wouldn’t have hired Swan. But I had no choice. Not only did three of my girls get murdered, but two quit, telling me they didn’t feel safe, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about that.

I get it.

I can’t keep them safe.

So, I hired Swan. Have I regretted that decision? Yes, and no. She gets under my skin. But she also makes me smile, which is unexpected.

I haven’t smiled in a long time.

I take a curve, glancing down at my speedometer, which reads ninety-five.

Blue and red lights flash behind me.

Fuck.

I pull off the road into a lazy field blanketed in purple wildflowers that sway with the breeze coming off the ocean.

As soon as I see the short-cropped black hair of the cop, I silently curse. Guy Adams, the worst beat cop on patrol. There’s nothing clean about the way this guy does business. If there’s a low-life drug dealer, or STD-infested stripper, then this guy’s using them as an informant to keep his ear on the ground. He’s tried to apply for membership in my club, but I’d never allow that.

I’ve known the motherfucker since high school. Back when he was just a bully. Now he’s a bully with a badge which in my book is the worst kind of bully to be.

---