by Lucy Score
“I’m going to talk to Petra and find out what she knows. And I’m probably going to need your help distracting her bodyguards.” She shot him a look. “They’re pretty big guys. Are you up for a little two on one?”
“Exactly how rough is this going to get?” he asked dryly.
“I just need to get next to her. She’ll call them off,” Waverly said with confidence. At least, that’s what she hoped would happen. She had no idea what had happened after Petra and Yurgei had driven off in the boat. She assumed the girl had been on lockdown since. It’s what she would have done if she were Petra’s father. But there was a chance that Petra could have connected her to the mess in Tahoe.
There was only one way to find out.
When Burke eased up to the curb in front of Volt, Xavier held her arm in his warm, strong grasp. “I’m not leaving your side this time,” he promised her.
“She might not talk in front of you,” Waverly warned him. “I need whatever information she’s got, X. And if that means you have to take a couple of steps back, I need you to do it.”
“I’ll give you six feet.”
It was better than nothing.
She made another move for the door, and again he stopped her. “I need you to be careful.”
“Xavier,” Waverly said, squeezing his knee. She realized that tonight had stirred up a lot of memories for them both, and he was probably thinking about the last time he’d taken her to a club, the night she’d been abducted. “I swear to you this time is going to end differently.”
Reluctantly, he let her go when Burke opened the door for her. But he was sliding out directly behind her, and his hand settled on her back before she made it to the bouncer. There was a line outside the club, but security took one look at Waverly and waved them in. Cellphone flashes were still puncturing the night behind them when they entered the club.
The pulse of the music was loud enough to feel throughout her entire body. Lights flashed lavender and yellow over them. Xavier kept her close, never breaking contact with her.
Waverly angled her head toward his ear so he could hear her over the thumping electronic dance music. “She’ll be in the VIP section.”
“What’s under your jacket?” he asked.
“My wallet,” she said casually. She didn’t want to find out what his reaction would be to her carrying a loaded .38 into a club. “Come on. VIP is up there,” she said pointing to the loft area above the dance floor.
He climbed the metal stairs behind her, and she could feel his gaze burning into her ass as it swayed in front of his face. But it wasn’t the time to lose her focus. The section hostess put them at a small white vinyl couch overlooking the packed dance floor.
Waverly spotted Petra against the far wall of the section. She wore a hot pink halter dress and was giggling at a horseshoe-shaped banquette filled with the young and beautiful European crowd she usually attracted in L.A.
Anatoli, the bodyguard with the leg wound, was nowhere to be seen, but his friend Yurgei was. And by her count, there were three others in plainclothes. It looked like Grigory had stepped up the security on his little girl.
“I count four,” Xavier said quietly in her ear.
Waverly nodded. “I can’t sneak past four. I need a diversion.”
“If I start another fight in another club, I’ll be banned from L.A. nightlife forever,” he quipped.
“Funny. Hang on. I have an idea.”
She pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket and snapped a picture of Xavier. “What are you doing?”
Waverly grinned. “Payback for breakfast at the café, Saint.”
He saw phones at nearby tables light up.
“What did you do?”
“Celeb Spotting’s app alerts all users to nearby celebrities,” she said, pushing back from the table and standing up. “Brace yourself.”
“Waverly—”
“Well, ladies,” the DJ announced over the music. “It looks like your wet dreams just came true. We’ve got a real live hero here tonight. Let’s give it up for Xavier Saint in VIP.”
The women on the dance floor below, fueled by too many overpriced Cosmos, erupted as a lone spotlight centered on Xavier. It froze him in place when he would have come after her. Waverly could feel his rage following her as she slipped away into the crowd. Every table in VIP emptied as everyone tried for a better look at Xavier.
Petra’s guards were doing their best to direct the flow of traffic away from their client, but with the chaos, Waverly was able to weave her way around them and come up behind the girl.
“Hey, Petra,” she said, leaning over her shoulder.
Petra’s face morphed from curiosity to happy surprise to wariness. “Hi, Waverly. Uh, I’m just going to catch up with my friends—”
Waverly put her hand on Petra’s arm. “I really need to talk to you, Petra. It’s life or death.”
Petra’s eyes were as wide as the lipstick stained mouths of the martini glasses scattered on the table behind her. “Sure. Just let me—”
Waverly wasn’t sure if she or Petra was more surprised when Petra took off running. She dodged behind a booth and shoved through an Employees Only door.
Waverly, with two guards hot on her heels, sprinted to the door. She slipped through and slammed it behind her and thanked her lucky stars that there was a deadbolt on the door. She threw it just as the first guard gripped the handle. She was running down the short hallway after Petra by the time someone put their shoulder into the door. Hopefully the bolt would hold, she prayed. Petra dashed down a rickety set of stairs, and Waverly followed her, regretting her choice of footwear with the delicately heeled boots. Petra, on the other hand moved like a sprinter in sneakers. The girl must have been born in stilettos.
“Petra, wait!” Waverly called out. But Petra was turning a corner at the foot of the stairs.
Waverly followed and found herself in the club’s greasy kitchen. If the staff was confused by two well-dressed women sprinting through the prep area, they didn’t show it. When Petra pushed through the side door in the kitchen, Waverly poured on the speed—feet be damned—and caught her on the sidewalk off the side street that ran parallel to the length of the club’s squat brick building. To the left, Waverly could see the flashing neon of the club’s signage reflected in the glass of the building across the road.
“Please don’t hate me!” Petra cried out as Waverly held her by the forearm. “I feel so guilty already! I wanted to call you and tell you, but my father wouldn’t let me. He thinks you’re trouble.”
“Petra, what are you talking about?” Waverly demanded, loosening her hold and praying the woman stayed put.
“Dante. I feel terrible about Dante, and I know you’re mad at me, and I’m just the worst person in the universe. I mean, you saved my life, and look what I go and do.”
“What did you go and do?” Waverly asked, fear icing her belly. “He’s alive, isn’t he?”
Petra frowned. “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” Waverly squashed her urge to take Petra by the shoulders and shake the answers out of her.
A compact car with rust around the fenders pulled up with a squeal of poorly maintained brakes. The passenger side window rolled down with a squeak.
A skinny guy with thick glasses leaned over from the driver’s seat. “Uh, hi. This is my first time doing this. It really wasn’t my idea. It was kind of a dare. My cousin bet me a hundred bucks that I wouldn’t get laid by the time I turned twenty-two, and well, my birthday is tomorrow. So, I don’t know how this works…”
Waverly blinked.
Petra frowned. “Does he think we’re—”
“Prostitutes.”
Petra put her hands on her hips. “Excuse me, that’s just offensive. Do you think a prostitute can afford this outfit?” She gestured at her Valentino dress and Manolo Blahniks.
“Uh, maybe a good one can?” the guy ventured. “Are you a good one?” he a
sked.
“No wonder they call this place La La Land,” Petra huffed.
The squeal of tires caught Waverly’s attention. Two black SUVs careened around the corner from the front of the club. They came to an abrupt stop, and with the engines still running, doors flew open.
“Are these your guards?” Waverly asked, already knowing the answer.
Petra was shaking her head when the first man jumped out and started toward them. He made no bones about flashing the gun he had in his hand.
“Shit.” Four more men dressed in head-to-toe black got out and started down the sidewalk toward them.
“Petra, get in the car,” Waverly whispered.
“Okay, but I’m not having sex with him.”
“Just get in the car!”
Waverly yanked the passenger door open and shoved her inside. “You are not having sex with this woman. You’re taking her home. Petra, I’ll talk to you soon.”
The goon squad was closing in at a run. “Go! Before someone gets shot.”
The little car peeled away from the sidewalk.
One of the men raced back to the first SUV and jumped in, squealing after them. Waverly grabbed her cell and dialed Burke.
“There’s a black SUV chasing a white piece-of-shit two-door down Fourth. I need you to disable the SUV!”
“On it,” the driver said as coolly as if she was asking him to pick up a carton of ice cream on his way home.
Less than ten seconds later, she saw Xavier’s SUV careen down the street in the direction Petra had gone.
For fuck’s sake. She’d been one second away from finding out what happened to Dante, and she was interrupted by four assholes and a john, she seethed.
Someone was going to pay. She walked backward, facing the remaining men and leading them further away from the main street. The alley was ten feet behind her, and she could either run or lure them in for the ass-kicking she was more than ready to dole out.
They all had guns, but given the setting, she wasn’t too worried they’d use them. The one on the left was a big dude, too big to be agile. She could work with that. The second one was a wiry guy who topped out around five-foot-eight. The way his right shoulder hunched under his tactical shirt made her think back pain or some kind of injury. She’d start with those two. She stopped at the mouth of the alley and waited.
“Looks like blondie wants to play,” the one on the far right said, flashing a glint of gold tooth and a Texas accent.
“Let’s get this over with boys. I’ve got things to do,” she said, taking a wide-legged stance in the middle of the sidewalk and crossing her arms. She palmed the pepper spray from her jacket pocket.
The third guy looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place him.
“How about we even the odds?” Xavier’s voice came from the alley behind her. He sounded dangerously angry, and she hoped he’d be willing to direct it at someone other than her temporarily. He calmly strolled out from the shadows and stepped in front of her without sparing her a glance. His attention was on the four menacing figures in front of them.
“Four on two looks fair to me,” the chatty Texan said.
“Stay behind me,” Xavier said quietly to Waverly.
As if.
Chatty Cathy made his move first, swinging fast and hard at Xavier’s head. He dodged the blow easily and countered with a body shot and right hook. The man’s head snapped back from the hit, and he stumbled back a step. The big guy lined up next and came in at full speed to grab Xavier in a bear hug while his skinny buddy moved in to take some shots.
She saw Xavier kick the skinny one in the gut but was distracted by Number Three who skirted the grappling threesome and made a grab for her. She let him grab her by the forearm and then stomped on his instep with her icepick heel.
“Nice try,” she said, spinning to throw an elbow to his gut. When he doubled over, she reached into his windbreaker and pulled out his gun. She tossed it in the dumpster behind her and kneed the man in the face.
The big guy had passed Xavier off to his friend to come to Number Three’s rescue. He grabbed her from behind in a bear hug, apparently his signature move, and lifted her off her feet. She whipped her head back, connecting with his nose. When he dropped her, she landed low and swept his legs out from under him. His gun was in a shoulder holster that was stretched to capacity around his bulk. She fished out the Glock and tossed it into the dumpster with his friend’s.
Xavier and the skinny guy were taking turns slamming each other against the brick of the building using some kind of bastardized martial art. It was pretty entertaining to watch, at least until Chatty Cathy got back on his feet and pulled his gun on her.
“I’m done playing, Blondie,” he said, spitting blood. He wracked his slide. “Where’s the girl? You will take me to her, or you will die.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Waverly popped the cap on her pepper spray and hosed him in the face.
Xavier and the skinny ninja both paused when they heard the man’s wild animal shrieks. Fortunately, Xavier recovered faster and popped his opponent in the face, knocking him out cold before he even hit the ground.
“What the fuck was that?” Xavier demanded staring at the three men at her feet writhing in various forms of agony. His battlefield calm was gone now.
He crossed to her and grabbed her by the wrist. “Who the hell are you?”
She threw herself at him knocking him off balance so the shot that Chatty Cathy blindly fired hit brick instead of flesh. Waverly spun and kicked the gun out of the man’s hand and then landed another blow to his face.
Xavier picked up the gun and stared at the disabled goon squad. He picked the skinny unconscious one and started going through the man’s pockets. Waverly pulled out her phone and fired off a text to Burke.
Everything okay?
His response was tacit. SUV taken care of. Waiting for new ride.
Are you ok??
Fine. But you’re telling Saint. He attached a picture of the Tahoe, which was now sporting a smashed in front end.
She winced, wondering how pissed Xavier would be when he found out she’d given the order to total one of his fleet.
Waverly stowed her phone back in her jacket and backed toward the mouth of the alley slowly at first. She needed to put as much space between them as possible. There was no time for long explanations, even if she owed them. She had to find Petra, and Xavier would only slow her down.
She’d been so close and wasn’t giving up now.
As if he’d read her thoughts, Xavier glanced up. “Waverly.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She spun away from Xavier and took off at a flat out sprint.
He shouted her name again, but she didn’t hesitate, didn’t slow. She crossed the street heading south. He was after her, but she had a good head start. She dodged through a crowd outside a jazz club and took a hard right into the alley. Music poured out of the back door of another club and mingled with the scents of garlic and tomato sauce from the kitchen door of an Italian place.
She hung a left and found herself on a quieter street. There were apartment buildings here and more cars parked for the night. A bar on the corner poured neon promises of beer brands onto the sidewalk.
“Waverly!”
God, he was gaining. It was her damn shoes, but there was no time to take them off now.
Beyond the bar was a massive stone cathedral and next to it a gated courtyard. She jumped the low fence, her feet hitting the brick of the courtyard, and skirted the fountain. The walls were brick as well. Trees formed an arching canopy creating a pocket of quiet nature in the middle of the city.
He was so close, she could hear him breathing, could feel the rush of his adrenaline as if it was her own. He was closing in, and she was going to lose Petra… and her connection to Dante.
The alley access was gated off as well, but the rear fencing was much higher. She took a running lea
p, her fingers gripping the top iron bar. It was as far as she got.
He caught her around the waist and dragged her off the fence. When she threw an elbow that connected with his jaw, Xavier forced her up against the brick of the wall next to the gate. “Goddamn it. I said stop!”
He wasn’t gentle when he braceleted her wrists together over her head and held her in place with one hand.
Her breath was coming in shallow pants. She tried to aim a kick at his shins, but he read her like a playbook and shoved his hips against her, pressing her into the wall. “You’re going to get yourself killed,” he growled.
“You’re the one who almost got shot,” she snapped back.
His free hand roamed her body and found the .38 at the small of her back hidden by her cropped leather jacket.
“That’s mine!” She struggled against him and felt him already rock hard.
“You’ll get it back when I decide you deserve it.” She felt his hand moving again. He slid it around the waistband of her skirt and up under the fitted edge of the long line of her crop top.
She felt his fingers pause as they found the small knife in its hidden sheath beneath her breasts, yet still he lingered there, just touching the trembling curves.
His breath was hot against her ear. “Keep your hands on the wall, and if you try to run, I swear to God I’ll break both your legs.”
When she didn’t answer, he tugged her hair. “Do you hear me, Angel? Hands on the wall.”
She took a shuddering breath and nodded. Her brain was shutting down at his touch. She should want to run. She needed to find Petra. But his hands were skimming low over her hips, down the outside of her legs. He was patting her down, looking for weapons after ruining her chances of questioning the only one who might have answers for her. She shouldn’t be turned on.
But as his palms skimmed up her ankles, over the inside of her legs to her knees, she quivered in anticipation. Her heart thrummed in her head, blood pounded through her system. First the chase, and now the seduction. She was caught in his trap and had lost the will to escape.