dropped the slutty bullshit and sat up straight. "And?"
"And it was a completely different type of bomb than was used on Steele's car. Other than the fact that they were both our vehicles, there would be no links." He leaned his butt on the dresser, like he didn't trust himself to sit on the bed with me. Fair call.
I pursed my lips, thinking. "So, one was my stalker, obviously." Because he'd left one of his signature notes beside Steele's exploded Challenger. "And the other was an assassination attempt?"
Archer nodded. "That's my guess."
"Alright, so what now?"
"Nothing," he replied with a shrug, his eyes locked on my face. "It changes nothing in our plan. Actually, that was the other thing I wanted to talk to you about."
I cocked my head to the side. "You got cold feet and don't wanna marry me in front of hundreds of guests? I'm hurt, but not surprised. I guess Kody or Steele can take your place, but you'd have to grant me that divorce, first."
He just scoffed a laugh. "As if you still even want those papers, Princess. No, but I did get a call from Demi Timber while I was dealing with the cops about the exploded car."
Something in his tone hinted that Demi hadn’t called about my divorce application. She'd spoken to me about it a few days after Steele was shot, and I'd given her the instruction to let it lie for now. We had bigger fish to fry, and Archer wasn't exactly the worst surprise husband in the world.
"And?" I prompted when he just stared at my legs with a heated gaze for way too long. Or not long enough, depending on how this conversation was going to play out.
His gaze snapped back up to my face. "She said she was trying to call you, but it went to voicemail. I guess you and Steele were busy talking."
I gave him an unapologetic smirk. "Yeah, sure. If talking involves his hard dick inside of me."
Archer glared, and I just grinned wider. There was something crazy addictive about pushing his buttons until he snapped and lost control.
"Okay, okay." I chuckled, rolling my eyes. "What did Demi want? Or she wouldn't tell you?" Because attorney-client privilege and all that.
His brow twitched, and I guessed I was right. "She wants to meet tomorrow night. Says she has some information for you." His jaw tightened, and I got the distinct impression he wasn't pleased that Demi had refused to tell him directly.
Hah. Too bad, sucker. Big dick energy only gets you so far in life. Sometimes you actually have to be a nice person or, you know, accept the fact that you don't get to know everyone else's secrets.
"Cool. At her office?" I kept it casual as fuck, like I hadn't noticed his burning curiosity. He was worse than me sometimes.
His eyes narrowed. "No, she asked to meet at 7th Circle. Apparently this is the sort of conversation she feels better having on neutral ground."
"7th Circle?" I asked, trying to think if I knew where this was.
"Yeah, that warehouse-conversion club we did the photo shoot in? Official opening isn't for another couple of weeks, but that's where she wants to meet up anyway." Archer gave a one-shouldered shrug, like he didn't particularly care where Demi wanted to meet. There was no way I was going alone, even if it was on so-called neutral territory.
I wrinkled my nose. "Why is it called neutral territory?" I pondered aloud, leaning back on my hands. "It's not, not really, if Hades and the Timberwolves own all those venues."
A small smile hitched his lips, and he pushed off the dresser, stalking toward me. "No such thing as totally neutral ground, Princess. Someone has to be in charge of enforcing the rules, after all." He stopped just in front of me, then nudged my legs open once more. "It just so happens that Hades’s crew are scary enough bastards to get the job done, and everyone knows it."
"So why let anyone onto their turf at all? Why create these pseudo-neutral zones?" My breath hitched as he pushed my legs wider still, sinking to his knees in the gap between. Apparently now that he'd delivered the important information, he had other things on his mind.
"Why not? Hades has legal businesses, like the bars and clubs, that need patronage. Partying patrons often like to indulge in something harder than alcohol, so there're business arrangements in place. One of the perks of those business relationships is