“Come on, J,” Nicolas mutters under his breath. “Take it easy.”
I ignore him as Roman’s hand comes to Sid’s arm, and she jerks her head his way, her eyes narrowing into slits, glancing at him touching her.
That’s my girl.
But I’m not waiting for her to open her pretty little mouth to tell him to fuck off. I step around the table and Nicolas, cross the room in a few strides, hands in my pockets.
Roman keeps fucking talking, but as I stand directly in front of him, he looks up, his fingers still around Sid’s forearm, bare beneath her oversize black tank, a lime green bra visible beneath.
His charcoal eyes, a shade darker than hers, are wide with surprise, but he still doesn’t move his damn hand. He usually picks up the supply around back of the club, and he came recommended to me through a guy that works under Nicolas. I know, rationally, he doesn’t know me very well.
But when it comes to Sid Rain, I’ve never really been rational.
“How’s it going, Roman?” I ask him politely.
He blinks up at me, as if he’s startled.
I run down his facts in my mind. A year younger than me, he’s twenty-three, worked up a little name for himself at the dragstrip in high school, been dealing pot since he was in middle school, and he doesn’t have a rap sheet. Not yet.
He smiles, dimples flashing in his smooth, boyish face. “Good, Rain,” he says, glancing at Sid. “I was just talking to Sid,” he says her name in a way that makes me want to sew his lips together, “and she was saying the club is only open tonight for the party?” His smile widens. “Mind if I deliver that cash a little later?” He looks back at Sid, sidling closer.
Their thighs are touching.
Sid is trying to pull her arm from his grip but he’s not fucking paying attention as he turns back to me. “I’m sure Lazarus won’t mind.”
Lazarus. My new employee’s code name. Absurd.
“You think he won’t?” I question.
Roman shrugs. “I think it’s a she, but no, five grand now, five grand later, it’s all the same, right?” He laughs, and just as he turns to Sid, finally realizing she doesn’t want him to touch her as his grip loosens enough for her to pull away, I shoot my hand out, drag him up by his throat, and shove him against the wall adjacent the couch.
His head collides with the brick, his hands coming to mine around his throat as his eyes water.
“What the fuck, man, I was just—”
With my left hand, I reach for that metal hoop in his nose and see his eyes widen, his breath leaving him in a rush, his words lost.
Aside from the music from the dance floor beyond the closed door, it’s so quiet it seems like no one is even breathing in here.
“Did Nicolas tell you about her?” I ask him, cocking my head as his dirty nails scratch at my hand.
I tug on the nose ring in a warning. I’d hate to cut off all of his fucking fingers for touching me like that. It might ruin his driving career for good.
He stills but doesn’t drop his hands. His eyes dart past me, to Sid, and I hear her boots echoing on the concrete floor.
“Jeremiah,” she whispers quietly, but I ignore her, give this fuck’s ring another tug.
“A-about Sid?” he asks, and I pull harder, hating him saying her fucking name. I feel his throat bob beneath my hand as he swallows. “H-he just said she was your s-sister and—”
I knock his head against the wall again, and he cries out, panicking now as his nostrils flare, his eyes going to my fingers around that disgusting piercing, sweat beading along his temple.
“You think you should touch my sister?” I ask him quietly, arching a brow.
Tears well up in his eyes and I feel him trembling beneath my hand. Pathetic.
“No, no, I just…me and my girl just broke up and I just thought I’d try to—”
I yank hard on his piercing, twisting it as I do, ripping through his skin, dragging the metal all the way to the end of his nose. Blood gushes everywhere as I release him, the metal hoop between my fingers as he screams, sinking to the floor, his hands over his nose.
I turn to look at Sid, see her complexion turn a strange gray color as she looks at Roman on the floor, still