Teardrop Shot(100)

Lauren handed me a glass of champagne. “It’s a birthday party. One of the trainers, Aaron or something?”

“Aiden?”

“Yeah. Aiden. It’s his birthday, and the reservation came through that they’re only using the private suite above for a little bit tonight. They should be arriving soon, and we have another party holding it at midnight. They’ll be gone by then. It’s like a quick dip, in and out.”

It was almost nine. That made sense.

But knowing didn’t help, because a whole new fresh batch of nerves pounced on me. Good Lord. I contemplated my champagne—down it like the princess trucker I could be or shove it aside and head for the toilet? Both reactions assaulted me at the same time.

Eyeing me, Lauren leaned close again. “You going to be okay?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

She moved back and shrugged. “Okay, but they’re here.” She nodded behind my shoulder, and I turned.

They were like gods.

There was no other way to describe it.

Coming in, one by one and in pairs, they were heads over the rest of us. All eyes in the club went to them. A few mouths dropped. Some frowned, confused. Others scrambled for their phones and a frenzy began as they walked underneath the DJ booth bridge and toward us.

Lauren nudged me, her head dipping toward what seemed like a throne room looking out over the entire club. It was like a huge black box sticking out from the wall, with one side open and stairs leading up to it. I couldn’t see all the way in, but I knew similar black leather couches likely lined the inside of it.

A team of servers, clad in the same clothing as Lauren, led the way. Three of them carried bottles with sparklers coming out of them. A few others brought up the rear with more alcohol. It was all a show, but damn, it worked.

I named the guys as they filed past us, walking up the stairs and taking their deserved seats over the club. Terry Bartlonguesen. Matthew Crusky. Beau Michems. Carzoni.

I recognized Aiden. Lestroy had his arm around him, and Aiden was laughing.

Some wore sharp business suits. Others were just dressed up, with pants to impress and custom-tailored shirts.

One by one they came. Almost the entire team was here.

I waited, the lump in my throat doubling as each player went past, not sparing us a look. We were within eyesight, but not in their way. Our booth was set back against the wall, whereas theirs was front and center, meant to be noticed, meant to be worshiped.

A few more trailed in.

Then, I felt a new frenzy begin on the nightclub pathway. People were migrating over from the dance floor, and I knew.

More people came running back, their phones raised, so at first I didn’t see them. The lights were blinding against the dark and neon colors inside the club. Then a small clearing opened, and I could see both Juan and Reese…and Stan?

Fucking Stan.

I started growling. He was another Keith the Boss to me, but the effect was momentary because once I saw Reese, I couldn’t look away.

Tingles shot through me.

A buzz started low, simmering and building the closer he got. And at the same time, the lump in my throat moved down, choking me until I pushed it down to fall with a thud to the bottom of my stomach.

My mouth dried.

He looked so good.

Faded jeans, a black shirt, the silver-tinted sunglasses, and a Thunder ball cap pulled low over his head, I’d never seen Reese more a celebrity than just now. His head was down, and there was a girl on his arm. I almost fell back when I saw her.

God.

Her little hands clung to his arm. She was hurrying to keep up.

Juan and Stan were talking, moving at a more sedate pace toward the private box. Reese edged ahead of them, an urgency in his gait, as if he just wanted to get away. The girl teetered behind on her heels. It was like he’d forgotten she was there.

She wore a bikini top with a ripped jeans miniskirt that barely covered her ass. As she stretched to catch up with Reese, I caught a glimpse of something lacy underneath. Her hair was blown out and her makeup was heavy.

Skank.

Okay. In fairness to her, she might not have been one. You never knew—but then she stuck her hand in one of Reese’s back pockets. She was definitely a skank.

Pretty sure I was showing my front teeth as I growled. It was savage. I was scaring even myself.

“Down, girl.” Trent pulled me to sit. He laughed in my ear, sitting next to me. “The girl’s not with him. He doesn’t even really know she’s there.”

Yeah.

He was up the stairs, looking for a seat.

Trent was right.

Maybe.

Probably.

Reese looked like he really didn’t know she was there, and then he sat down on the far end of the box, facing our direction—and she climbed right onto his lap.

I started to surge to my feet.

Trent clamped a hand on my arm, holding me in place. “Stop. Stop. She doesn’t mean anything.”

I knew that. She was a fucking one-use girl, but that didn’t matter.

Reese was mine.

I leaned back against the seat. “I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and watch him get mauled.”

“Well…” Trent kept his hand on my arm. “I don’t think you can get to him right now, so you’re going to have to. Try not to watch?”

A gurgling laugh erupted from me. Yeah, right.