Run To Me (Lazarus Rising #4)(16)

His lashes flickered. “I have been talking to Benjamin Larson. And do you really think he wants you to just sashay your sweet ass into his new club?”

The name made her flinch. Benjamin Larson. “You’re going…to-to the crime boss’s club?”

“Push opens tonight. Since I helped finance the place, I figured I should show up. I’m half-owner.” He rolled back his shoulders. “Part of my whole atoning bit, if you must know. After you made Larson see his personal hell at Sin, I figured I owed him.”

Sin. Another club owned by Benjamin Larson. A club in which she and Benjamin had experienced a rather unfortunate encounter.

Her cheeks had gone cold. “I had to do that. I was trying to help. Trying to stop Bryce from killing people.”

“I know that.” Jay shrugged. “Doesn’t mean Benjamin is particularly forgiving of what you did to him.”

She exhaled. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going. I’m your new bodyguard, whether you like it or not.” Why was he fighting this?

He stepped even closer to her, his body nearly brushing against hers. “Fine, but don’t you dare get shot. Don’t you bleed. Don’t you hurt. Not for me, do you understand?”

His voice had been low and rough, and it seemed to sink right past her skin.

“Not for me,” he said again.

He was going to let her take the job. Willow didn’t let her joy show, instead, she notched up her chin. “We should probably discuss my fee,” Willow announced crisply, not responding to the words he’d said.

“Fuck me.” His eyes squeezed closed. “I’ll pay you anything you want.”

Considering he had limitless resources, Willow figured she’d better come up with a nice, fat number for him.

“Just don’t get hurt.” His eyes opened. For an instant, she felt absolutely burned by the heat of his stare. “Because if your blood is on my hands again, you’ll see that Lazarus subjects aren’t the only ones who can lose control.”

***

Jay could feel the eyes on him. The stares. The cameras. The people calling out to him—it was like a swirl of energy as he exited the limo and strode toward the entrance to Push.

Push…Benjamin Larson’s new club. The place to be in D.C. The guy tied to far too many criminals wanted to be seen as legit, and since Jay owed the guy…he was making this appearance at the big, grand opening event.

His new bodyguards—the guards that West had hired—trailed around him and Willow. And Willow, damn, but she looked hot. He didn’t even remember buying that dress. It fit her like a second skin, and with her dark hair and olive skin…

Sweet hell.

The neckline plunged, revealing the perfect swell of her breasts. He kept trying to keep his eyes off her breasts. Kept trying to play the role he’d been given.

But he just wanted to grab her and take Willow far, far away from that scene. From all of the eyes, all of the cameras.

“Hey, sexy bodyguard!” A male voice shouted. “Give us a few minutes!”

Jay’s head turned to the left. He recognized the reporter from one of the online tabloids—a place that was always profiling celebrities—loving to catch singers and actors and the rich and famous in spots of scandal. Jay’s arm curled around Willow’s side, and he pulled her against him. “Ignore them all. We’ll be inside soon,” he spoke the low words against her ear, and she shivered.

From the cold? Because of all the attention she was getting?

Or because of something else?

“A shooter fired into a crowd yesterday.” Her voice was a soft breath of sound. “Shouldn’t everyone be worried?”

Yeah, they damn well should be. But cops were everywhere. Private security was hidden in the crowd. This time, they were on guard. “You sensing anything?”

She gave a negative shake of her head.

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as they strode into Push. VIPs only for opening night—the club would open to everyone else the next day. So when they went inside, the place was filled with money. You could practically smell it dripping in the place. Women with perfectly styled hair and dresses that displayed their bodies to tempting degrees mingled with men in suits who stood with studied casualness. Waiters and waitresses poured out the champagne in mass quantities, while a well-known pop star sang on stage.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

Jay stiffened when he heard that low, gruff voice. He also grabbed a champagne flute from a waitress and drained that shit fast. Then he faced the speaker, his host for the night.

Benjamin Larson.

“Place is killer.” Jay saluted the guy with his empty champagne glass. “Congratulations.”

Benjamin growled. He was also in a suit, but the guy didn’t carry himself with the easy grace and wealth of the others in Push. Instead, the fellow looked like trouble. Jay wondered how he managed that feat. An interesting talent.

“The club isn’t the one who’s killer.” Benjamin’s hard stare was on Willow. “Seriously, what the fuck is she doing here?”

Willow took a step toward the other man.

“Stop right there.” Benjamin pointed at her. “You might be sexy as all hell, but you are never getting touching close to me again.” He bared his teeth in a cold smile. “I like to keep my nightmares in my head, thank you very much.”