My arm is wedged beneath her shoulders, and I use it to curl her closer, enjoying her tits against my ribs and the hot wash of breath against my neck. “Went fine. Got her settled in.”
Story’s fingers worry at the hair below my navel, plucking and stroking in a way that makes my stomach cave. “Did he… put her in the pit?”
“What?” It takes me a second, too come-brained to realize she’s asking about the living arrangements. I snort a laugh. “No, she has this whole, like, suite. Real boujee shit. She’s comfortable, trust me.”
She stiffens. “Yes, I’m sure she’s a very comfortable sex trafficking victim, Dimitri.”
Her saying my name still grabs at my spine, pulling every fiber of my attention to the way it rolls off her lips. I thought it’d wear off after so long, but it hasn’t, and I have to take a moment to face it down, look it in the eye, and stroke my thumb over her flushed cheek.
Fuck, I’d do anything for this girl.
“I haven’t told the guys yet,” I begin, and even though I can keep my voice quiet, I can’t keep it light. “We’re going to make a deal with Nick.”
I watch from my periphery as she frowns. “A deal with Nick? Are you sure that’s wise?”
“Not even a little.” My fingers trail from her shoulder to her back, tracing her spine, and she gives a small, delicate shiver. “But he’ll help us tomorrow night, if we can find him a way into the Hideaway somewhere down the line.”
She looks up me, cheek dragging along my shoulder. “Why does Nick want into the Hideaway?”
The thing about Story is that she can be dirty. I saw the sort of things Daniel has on her. Hard things. Dark things. Story Austin has seen some shit, and she’s contributed to plenty of it. I understand about survival. Fuck, no one here understands that better than me. But even though she’d probably have trouble admitting it, she attracts the necessity of survival a whole hell of a lot.
But sometimes, she’ll look at me—a lot like she is right now—and there’s nothing there but pure, unadulterated naiveté. I can’t speak for the others, but it’s those moments that make her so hard to walk away from, because she can be dirty, but goddamn. She can also be so clean. A patch of light in a pitch black room.
It’s not as easy as having a dark side, because not everyone can be as tidy as Tristian. Story is made up of bits and pieces—black, gray, white, red—and sometimes you just have to get close enough to find their edges.
I’m looking at one right now.
“I think…” I choose my words carefully, thoughtfully. “I think he’s got a thing for Lavinia.”
It’s kind of bullshit. I’ve seen him with her twice, and ‘a thing’ is just as understated as calling that bitch a kicker. Nicholas Bruin isn’t the kind of guy who develops ‘things’ for girls. He probably has an effigy of her crammed beneath his bed, and I bet he pulls it out at night and fucks its eye socket. The only pretty thing about Nick is his face. I doubt he’s acted on it yet, because the Kings would geld him, but the fact of the matter is, Daniel made Nick her jailor, and that’s not something you give a guy who has two settings: ‘Off’ and ‘demented infatuation’。 At least Lavinia seems aware enough to sense it, her eyes always tracking him suspiciously.
But Story doesn’t need to know that, and from the spark of excitement in her eyes, I’m smart to leave it out. “He’s going to break her out.”
“Maybe,” I stress, not wanting to get her hopes up. “Nick is good at throwing fists and being hired muscle, but he’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer.” I roll my eyes. “You know, in case the face tattoos haven’t made that obvious.”
“I have access to the office building,” he said an hour ago. “He makes me lock it up every night. He trusts me there. But he doesn’t trust anyone with his whorehouse.” He gave me a meaningful look. “No one but baby Payne.”
Fuck, Killer is going to bitch me the hell out.
“But he wants to try, and we can help,” she says, draping herself over my chest, and there’s a lightness to her eyes that I don’t have it in me to extinguish.
“Sure.” I don’t know how true it is, but as I run my fingers through her silky hair, I know I’ll try to make it as true as possible. “But we need to get through tomorrow first. Put some time between us and a solid plan. Avoid suspicion. One fucked up psycho at a time.”