Wretched (Never After Series)(19)

I know the layout of this place inside and out, having looked at the architectural blueprints until my eyes bled. But seeing it in person is different.

Liam’s hand slaps down on my shoulder, squeezing. “Look at all the tits you want later, let’s go.”

I move behind him as he waltzes by the main stage and past the bar, barely sparing anyone a second glance as he heads to the back where the VIP areas are. I spin around as we walk, trying to get a visual of as much of the room as possible. There’s a long hall with blank doors and he moves past the first two before throwing open the third one aggressively, the sound of it slamming against the wall harsh against my ears.

A man sits in the center of a U-shaped booth with a cigar in his mouth and a bottle of Don in the center of the table. He snaps his head up. The girl in his lap ignores that we’re here entirely and continues to rub her naked pussy on top of him.

“Liam, buddy.” He peers around her shoulder. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tony.” Liam cracks his knuckles then puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out an emerald necklace. My stomach tightens when I realize it’s the one I said was a fake.

He brings his arm back and then flings it. It hits the woman in the back and she yelps, stuttering in her movement.

Tony’s face drops, the laid-back ease that was present morphing into something more sinister. He puts his hands on the hips of the dancer, stopping her. He squeezes her ass roughly and groans like he can’t stand the thought of letting it go before tapping her with his palm. “Give me a few minutes, doll.”

She rises from him and skims her eyes over Liam and me before leaving the room entirely.

He adjusts the waist of his pants before pointing a gold-ringed finger at Liam. “You better have a good fucking reason for doing what you just did.”

Liam lifts his chin. “You selling Skip fakes now?”

My chest tightens, my eyes going back and forth between them.

Fucking great.

“Please.” Tony laughs. “The fuck outta here with that.”

Liam lifts his brows, tossing a thumb in my direction. “This guy says you are.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spits, his eyes narrowing on me. “You saying I gave a fugazi?”

I clench my jaw, wanting to be anywhere other than in this room. Because no, he didn’t, in all actuality. “Come on, buddy. Let’s not play games.”

“And now you’re calling me a liar?” He sits up straight, looking over to Liam. “Who the fuck is this guy? You come in here and accuse me of shit? I don’t gotta answer to no one. Not even your fucking boss.”

Liam shakes his head. “He wants his money, Tony.”

He sits back, crossing his leg over his other knee and grinning. “Tell him to bill me.”

There’s a split moment where I consider what I’m about to do, but it’s only that; a moment. I need to gain Farrell’s trust enough to make it into the inner circle, and regardless of the repercussions, word will get to him.

I chuckle before snapping forward and gripping Tony by the back of his neck, slamming his head forward into the glass table. The sound of it smashing is loud, and a searing pain shoots up the side of my arm, a steady trickle of liquid seeping from a cut on my wrist.

“Aye, aye,” Liam snaps, pulling me back as Tony struggles and yells in the background. “For fuck’s sake, rook, get ahold of yourself. For the love of God.”

I scoff, throwing my arm toward him. “You’re gonna let some nobody fuck disrespect you, disrespect Skip like that? Here? On your turf?” I shake my head. “Nah, not with me. Not like that.”

“Vattela a pigliare in culo,” Antonio spits.

“The fuck you say?” I reply, turning to go at him again. The fake outbursts of violence make me feel like shit, but everything about my persona has to fit the mold. The lazy speech, the short temper and flares of violence. That’s Brayden, so in effect, that’s me.

Liam’s eyes narrow, his nostrils flaring and he grabs the front of my shirt, dragging me into him. “You don’t get to bash in the heads of people with more importance than you. I can, but you can’t. Got it?”

I shrug out of his hold, my heart slamming against my chest from the adrenaline. “Whatever.”

“Go clean yourself up.” He glares down at my hand. “Christ.”

Sighing, I shake out my wrist and make a beeline toward the restrooms, hoping like hell I didn’t make a mistake by fucking with an Italian. I’m assuming if he was hanging out in Westerly territory, he’s no one high in the food chain, possibly could even get himself eighty-sixed if people found out, but when it comes to the inner workings of the underworld, you can never be too sure.

I turn the corner and slam into a body, my hands shooting out quickly and gripping slender shoulders, hauling them into me to keep us both steady.

My wrist throbs.

Glancing down, I meet angry brown eyes lined in black.

Eveline. What the hell is she doing here?

“Why am I not surprised to see you?” she says, lifting one of her perfectly arched brows. “What are you doing back here?”

My eyes soak her in, taking in the soft lines of her face and her black lace tank top covered by a hoodie that’s unzipped in the front, leaving her cleavage on full display.