Page 30 of Wicked Lies

“What are you saying?”

“He’s not happy with you and Samson and that’s never good—just be careful.” She delivered the cryptic warning then meshed into the crowded room. Angela loved drama but he couldn’t shake the wonky feeling as he threaded his way around the sea of tables.

Thanks to a connection with the Chief Borough Planner of Manhattan, Nick wangled a seat with other members of the city planning board—those who already helped him get valuable variances and would be a future asset along with additional popular elected officials. The room overflowed with some of the biggest players in the nightclub and entertainment industry.

“Hey, Nick.” Frank waved him over to a table only a few feet away.

“Fuck.” Nick could keep on walking to his own table or placate the bastard—a clear case of what he wanted to do and what he should do.

As he neared their table, Frank stood, slapped him on the back, and pulled out a vacant chair next to him. “Have a seat.”

Nick let his gaze slide over the table of cheap hoods and women who were definitely paid for, except Angela who nailed him with a steely glare. He marveled at the irony: the deadly and uncivilized masquerading as well-bred elite. Maybe this party theme wasn’t so outrageous.

“Sit.” Frank’s firm hold on his shoulder forced him into the seat, and the vision of a trained dog made his eye twitch. Telling Frank to fuck off would be sweet, but he had to stay, play the game, and fight for the one thing that mattered—his independence.

“I’m surprised to see you here.”

“You’re not the only one with connections.” Sure he could’ve evaded the question or flat-out lied, but fuck, Frank would find out about Club Wicked sooner or later.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Frank waved away a waiter who came to take drink orders.

“That Samson and I wanna break out on our own.” Nick expelled a slow, easy breath as his heart beat double time.

“You think you don’t need me anymore?” Frank sneered. “That you’re too good for me?”

A few years ago, Nick would’ve been thrilled to sit at this table, but now he saw them for what they were—a bunch of cheap thugs who hung out with the pros. So, yeah, he did think he was too good for them.

Frank leaned in, pressing his forearm harder sending a radiating pain to the stitches in his bicep. “Buying that club was a big mistake.”

So, the fucker did know. New game, new rules.

“I can go wherever I want.” They were close enough for Nick to get a whiff of Frank’s heavy cologne. “I got my own money.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Frank slammed his fist on the table so hard it almost toppled a martini glass. His goons looked but didn’t react. “Your money is my money,” Frank’s low growl vibrated between them. “You think you’d have those hot babes blowing on your dice if you were still some cheap hustler over on Eighty-Sixth Street.”

Cheap hustler. Frank hurled the insult like a rusty spike.

“Yeah, I do,” Nick spat. “'Cause I would’ve made it with or without you.” His voice held more emotion than he’d intended.

The muscle went back to entertaining the hookers, but Angela’s gaze bore through him. Her jaw so tight he could almost hear her teeth grinding.

“I’ll give you one more chance to let me in on it.” Frank’s smile never met his eyes. “What do you say, partners?”

Nick leaned into Frank’s ear and whispered, “Go fuck yourself.” Then he yanked his arm free and pushed out of the chair.

Frank stood with him, clamped his hand around his shoulder and squeezed. “Think you’re a tough guy, huh?”

A warning flashed through Nick’s brain. Frank usually played it cool, especially in a room full of people he wanted to impress.

“You think you’re fooling everybody?” Frank’s threat laced with malice. “You’re nothing but a two-bit punk with a drunk for an old man who beat your stupid cunt of a mother until he killed her.”

Nick slammed his fist into the side of Frank’s jaw and then braced himself for retaliation that never came. When Frank rubbed his jaw and smiled, another warning bell rang in Nick’s head. This night was about to go straight to hell.

He sensed other people around them mumbling comments but stayed focused on Frank until security guards broke through the circle of onlookers and flanked Nick on each side.

“This man attacked me.” Frank addressed the guards, his beady eyes bright with superiority.

One of the guards grabbed Nick’s arm, and he pivoted out of his hold. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me.”

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