Halo (Fallen Angel, #1)(26)

Halo’s mouth opened, and then shut, and then he let go of my guitar and took a step back, and I was careful to hold the instrument strategically over the front of me.

“Well, hot damn,” Jagger said, coming over and slinging his arm around Halo’s shoulders. “That was insane.”

“Hell yeah it was,” Slade said, a grin stretching across his face.

I looked to Killian, who was smiling at Halo like he was the second coming of Christ, and if he kept this shit up, he just might be. “That was amazing. V, you heard this last week and are just telling us now?”

I shrugged. This wasn’t my moment—it was Halo’s.

“Brilliant. I can definitely see us working with this,” Killian said. “I don’t know about all of you, but I think we need to go out and celebrate. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in days, and it’s making me all kinds of excited.”

“Settle down,” Slade said, laughing. “Halo doesn’t bat for your team. Right? You like the ladies like me and Jagger here.”

Halo chuckled as he looked around the room, his eyes landing on me, as he said, “Right.”

Jagger clapped him on the back. “That’s okay, I guess. But make sure you don’t double-dip any of our women, you feel me? It’s kind of a rule around here. We don’t want no woman who’s had all the bees in her honey. It makes for a sticky situation.”

“Jesus, Jagger.” My dick instantly lost any kind of interest it’d had a minute ago, and as I put my guitar down, Killian said, “Why don’t we all hit Easy Street tonight? To celebrate the fact we hired a fucking genius.”

As all the guys agreed and started talking about how kickass Halo had just been, my eyes wandered back to the man of the moment, who was laughing along with them. But as though he could feel my stare from across the room, Halo’s eyes drifted back to mine, and I inclined my head ever so slightly and reminded myself: straight. I couldn’t help but think hitting up a bar tonight was an amazing idea. If only to find someone to help me fuck a certain angel out of my head.





Seventeen





Halo





THAT NIGHT, WE commandeered a roped-off VIP section at a loud, packed bar called Easy Street, where rock hits from the seventies to the present day blared above the chatter. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a night out with the guys, though I’d never been on the receiving end of the kind of attention we’d gotten just from walking in the door. It was like the disastrous show from last weekend never happened with the way everyone showered Killian, Slade, and Jagger with praise and everything their hearts desired. Best seat in the house? Check. Bottles of free alcohol? Check. Gorgeous men and women to entertain us? Check.

And though no one knew who I was, I hadn’t been left out of the action. In fact, the only one who had was Viper, and that was because he hadn’t shown up yet.

“Halo.” Killian’s arm went around the waist of the man he’d been dancing with—or grinding with, was more like it—and moved him to the side as he lifted up his empty glass. “Need a refill?”

I glanced down at my tumbler, only melted ice remaining, and excused myself from the three women who’d cornered me from all sides as soon as I’d sat down. Killian took my glass, chucked the contents off to the side, and then scooped in fresh ice and a heavy pour of vodka. As he handed my glass back, he lifted his chin to the women on the couch.

“Looks like you’ve got your pick. Will it be the Asian femme fatale, black beauty, or prom queen?” he asked.

I squeezed a lime over my drink and shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

“Oh? If you need more choices, we can—”

“No, no, no. They’re great.” In truth, I’d been hoping to shoot the shit with the guys tonight, but they’d all taken up with others. Jagger had brought “his current lady love,” according to Killian, and Slade was with a few women who had so many piercings that I’d given them a wide berth so I wouldn’t get caught on them.

Killian clapped me on the shoulder. “Great, huh? Well, my man, no need to choose, then.” As he gave me a sly wink, a wild burst of screams had us both jerking in the direction of the entrance. A mass of people surrounded someone, and as they attempted to move through the crowd, that someone’s face came into view.

“About time he showed up,” Killian said, shaking his head as Viper bumped fists, posed for selfies—scowling, not smiling, naturally—and signed exposed breasts that I knew he had no interest in whatsoever, though he definitely put on a good show of enjoying it.

Something about him looked different tonight. I tried to put my finger on what it was when Viper looked up, his eyes catching mine. There—that was the first thing. His eyes looked darker than usual, like they were rimmed in black. It gave off a provocative vibe that no one around him could seem to resist. He didn’t look bothered in the least, and when a handful of security guards appeared out of nowhere to usher him through, he made sure to grab the tie of one of the men vying for his attention, bringing him along.

As they headed toward us, my eyes narrowed on the guy Viper had chosen. Who the hell wore a tie to a bar? Some stuffy accountant or whatever? That wasn’t at all the kind of person I’d thought Viper would be attracted to.