Page 39 of Anger

He ignores my question.

“I don’t think anybody needs to tell you this, not with the energy you’re carrying right now, but maybe this isn’t the place for you tonight.”

Actually, it’s exactly the place for me. This fucker can give up on his psychobabble bullshit.

What the hell is up with this place? I step back and look the building up and down to make sure it’s still a club and not a shrink’s office.

I pull out two hundred more.

“A thousand. That sound right?”

Another shake of his head.

Fucker isn’t budging besides that, his arms still crossed, his eyes still pinned on my face with that question mark of an eyebrow arched high up his forehead.

“You look angry.”

Chuckling at that, I enlighten him. “I’m always angry. Tonight, I’m probably just doing a shit job of hiding it. And your questions aren’t making it any better.”

I pull out another five hundred.

“Fifteen hundred.”

“Put your money away. Answer the question, and I’ll let you in.”

My fingers fist over the cash. Not enough to ball it up tight, but enough to grab Patrick’s attention. It’s just a minor reaction, anger creeping out, making itself only slightly visible.

It takes effort to relax my hand.

My thoughts scramble again, decisions rolling through emotions, tripping over memories, some so old they’re barely shadows, and others so new, I’m still technically living them.

Regardless of the turmoil, the storm, the heat that blossoms around me and would make it so damn easy to land my ass back in a jail cell from letting loose on this one aggravation, I chose another option instead.

“A dancer. That’s what’s so important.”

He smiles. “I knew it.”

Pausing, Patrick scans the parking lot before landing that knowing gaze back on me. “Lemme guess, blue hair, big black wings?”

She must be a favorite. There are at least twenty here a night, all of them scattered throughout the first and second floors. How I should feel about that is beyond my guess, but I nod in answer.

Seconds tick by in silence, my frustration growing thicker, blending into this desperate need I have to escape inside. To feel something other than what Emily and Ezra left me holding.

Theirsecrets…

Something my twin brother never bothered to mention in the ten years since Red left us.

Shaking that thought off, I clench my jaw and take a breath. My nostrils flare to pull in the cool night air.

It wouldn’t do me any good to shove Patrick aside and strongarm my way into the club because I’m losing my shit. I’d only be dragged right back out before I could get to Blue. I’d be tucked into the confines of a cop car and hauled away.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t consider it.

He sees it, too, his posture shifting on the stool, almost daring me to make the first move.

The corner of his lips curl in challenge, but he doesn’t say the first word about what we’re both thinking.

“Granger won’t let you near her,” he admits.

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