Page 27 of The Secrets That Kill

He’s wrong.

I hang by the bar at Pinball’s a few hours later, sipping my drink. The floor vibrates under my feet from the overpowering bass, my ears practically bleeding from the horrific music, if you can even call it that.

Nervous energy bounces around inside of me. My eyes dart left and right, like I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I’ve felt the heaviness of an invisible stare for the past week of radio silence from Mercer.

I’d love it if he had taken care of Elise out of some mysticalkindness, but that’s just a pipe dream. He wants things…things that make me cringe and thrill me at the same time. And he’s made it clear he will take them from me.

But when?

Angst knots my gut. Dammit, I hate the unease of not knowing when the other shoe’s going to drop.

Lachlan and his friends jump around on the dance floor. I shake my head when he waves me over, my hand tightening on my glass, painfully aware that my phone hasn’t rung or vibrated once tonight. Nothing from Cara or Mercer.

She can be a little flighty and he…

I think he’s playing games with me.

A chill licks at the hairs on the back of my neck. That ominous feeling is back. I’m being watched. I can feel eyes burning into the back of my head. But as I spin around and sweep my gaze around the darkened bar, I don’t see anyone looking back at me.

How does he even do this to me? It’s like he’s here, right next to me when in reality, I’m stuck next to two drunk people making out.

I put my glass down on the bar, thoughts swirling through my frenzied mind.

It’s so damn unfair that my brother is dead and that Mercer landed on a mountain of money. And I hate that he’s got such a crazy and inexplicable hold on me. When I was a kid, I gave him that control. But now it seems like he’s just taken it. And despite how I feel about him, my mind keeps tripping back to that night, my body throbbing for his touch.

I swallow a groan and press my fingertips to my temples.

Sick, that’s what these thoughts are. Sick.

I want his hands on me, his mouth?—

“Wanna dance?”

One of Lachlan’s friends, whose name I forgot, stands in front of me. He holds out a shot glass of some red liquid. I take it and we both shoot them at the same time. I nearly choke on the fruity liquid, cringing as it snakes down my throat.

“Sure,” I croak with a smile.

He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to the dance floor. The sweaty, sticky heat in the bar and the loud, angry music casts a shadow over my mood. I try to bury the noise in my head and enjoy the night.

Suddenly, Lachlan’s friend disappears, and another guy spins me into his arms.

I don’t know him, but Lachlan is right behind me, so I know I’m okay. A few minutes pass before the guy tries to drag me off the dance floor. I struggle against him, but he pulls me close, forcing me against his thick chest. My stomach roils at the stench of stale beer on his breath.

“Wanna get outta here?” His hand slides down and squeezes my ass.

Like ice has been flung in my face, I recoil and use every bit of strength to shove him away.

“Fuck off.” Then I twist around and push through the crowds of sweaty people dancing. I look up, searching for the exit, when I crash face-first into a solid wall of muscle.

Everything in me stutters to a stop. The thrum of music vibrates beneath my feet.

Leather. Wood. Salt. Smoke.

It’s intoxicating temptation and darkness.

Mercer.

Dragging a breath into my lungs, I meet his angry gaze. He glares down at me, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, black boots on his feet.

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