Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I swallow, feeling Lincoln’s steady presence at my side. “Information,” I say, picking my words slowly. “We have certain… security needs that require someone with his talents.”
Devereaux studies me, then Lincoln. “And you think dropping by unannounced will endear you to him?”
“We hoped a password might help,” I say, heart pounding. “Angelus.”
The temperature in the room seems to shift. Devereaux’s eyebrows lift, and he tilts his head. Then, unexpectedly, he bursts into a laugh—low and rich, like he finds the whole thing amusing. “So you do have friends in high places.”
I clamp my hands together in my lap to keep them from trembling. “We know people,” I manage.
Devereaux’s laughter fades, replaced by a contemplative expression. “Very well. I’ll see to it that Rolfe hears of your interest. If he wishes, you’ll get your invite.”
Lincoln’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Thank you.”
Devereaux waves a hand. “Don’t thank me yet. Morris is… particular. He might not trust you right away. You’ll have to prove yourselves worthy. Until then, enjoy my club, spend money, indulge a bit.” He flashes a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what Club Greed is for, after all.”
I try to keep my breathing steady as we stand. We exchange polite farewells, and Devereaux’s man in the charcoal suit shows us out. My mind reels—this is a major breakthrough, but it also puts us squarely on Rolfe’s radar. We won’t be able to sneak up on him so easily now.
Back in the hallway, I feel Lincoln’s hand on my arm, steadying me. I’m not sure if it’s from the adrenaline or the lingering effect of dancing with him earlier, but my knees feel wobbly.
He leans in. “You all right?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah, just… it’s a lot.”
His fingers tighten reassuringly. “It was smart not to mention your real last name. Dean would have heard about what we’re doing here in an instant and forced us back to the safe house.” He steps closer. “I’m all for this plan, Isabel, but I also want you to know that we need to be safe.”
I nod. “Right, of course.”
We descend the marble staircase, returning to the pulsing chaos of the club. This time, the music feels louder, the lights more disorienting. My dress clings to my body, and my skin still tingles where Lincoln’s hands touched me on the dance floor.
We find our way back to the bar, half out of necessity—the crowd below is too dense to talk strategy without shouting. By the time we reach the mirrored counter, my heart has finally stopped racing like a runaway train. The same platinum-haired bartender meets our gaze, and I wave her off politely. I’ve had enough sugar and alcohol for one night.
Lincoln checks his phone, though it’s doubtful we’ll get any reception in here. “We should call it a night,” he says quietly, leaning close so only I can hear. “Devereaux’s making contact with Rolfe. We wait for word.”
I glance around, part of me not wanting to leave just yet. The club’s heady atmosphere has wound me up, and a raw, frustrated energy still buzzes through my veins. But I know he’s right. We’ve done everything we can for now.
“Okay,” I say, turning to face him. “Let’s go.”
He rests a hand at my waist, guiding me through the throng of dancing bodies. I feel oddly grateful for his solid presence—without it, I might be swept away by the crush of people. As we near the entrance, I catch one last glimpse of the roped-off area, the shadowy booths behind the curtains. My imagination swirls with questions: Could Rolfe be in there right now, watching us? Or is he still on his way?
We push open the heavy doors, stepping into the cool night air. The sudden contrast makes me shiver, and Lincoln, ever the gentleman, drapes his jacket over my shoulders. My heart does a little flip at the gesture.
“You did good in there,” he says quietly as we walk to the SUV which is waiting for us as the valet stands by the driver’s door. “Quick on your feet.”
I smirk, grateful for the praise. “You too, Lincoln.”
He slips the valet some cash, and we climb into the SUV. The engine purrs to life. As he pulls away from Club Greed, I find myself casting one last glance at the ominous building. A part of me wants to dive right back inside, to feel the pulsing music under my skin and the press of Lincoln’s body against mine on the dance floor. But that’s not who I am—at least, not usually.
I breathe in, letting the tension slowly leave my body. The mission isn’t finished, not by a long shot. We’re just getting started, and we’ve set something in motion that might lead us straight to Morris Rolfe. Yet I can’t shake the lingering desire between me and Lincoln. Every time his eyes flick over to me while he navigates the dark streets, my nerves buzz like a live wire.