Silas looked confused on multiple fronts. I still hadn’t handed over the bottle that was clearly a gift, and he also didn’t like Tara’s statement. “She doesn’t sell,” he gave her a pointed look, “she just negotiates.”
“Right.” She looked stricken but tried to play it off, and grabbed the bottle from me, passing it to Silas. “This is for you.”
“Thanks.”
As he deposited it in the kitchen, hairs tingled on the back of my neck, and I turned my head to alleviate the strange sensation. It must have been my subconscious trying to warn me, because my gaze caught a bright swath of red. It was a framed photograph of Silas, resting on a bookshelf.
His arm was around the redhead from the blindfold club.
My heart jerked to a stop.
I had to get Tara out of here before Regan came home and recognized me. Bloody fucking hell. Why hadn’t I just told her the truth? Why didn’t she trust me enough to tell me, so I could have come clean? Panic swamped my head.
I must have looked terrible, because Tara grabbed my hand, her face full of concern. “Are you okay?”
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry, but we need to leave.”
I’d let her believe whatever she wanted right now. That I was deathly ill. That I was having massive second thoughts about meeting them. Anything would work, as long as I could get her out of this apartment and into the back of a cab, where I could explain the whole thing on my terms. Like I should have fucking done from the start.
Her concern escalated. “Of course.” Her focus left me only for a moment to speak to Silas. “I’m sorry, we—”
The front door swung open behind us, and I was doomed.
“Sorry I’m late,” Regan sounded short of breath, as if she’d hurried up the steps. “The train was delayed for some stupid reason.”
“They have to leave,” Silas said.
Tara didn’t know the reason, but she covered for me regardless. “Grant’s not feeling well.”
The competitor in me wan
ted to turn and face Regan head-to-head. She was going to take away my chance to tell Tara everything, and I selfishly wanted to keep it in my possession. But I couldn’t see any way out of the mess I’d created, so I simply stood there as she strode over to Silas and stepped into view.
She looked like I’d remembered her. Professional, yet sexy, wearing a black, tailored suit over a corset and her vibrant red hair up in a high ponytail. I must have looked the same to her, or at least similar enough, because she went ramrod straight and dark storms filled her eyes.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
-30-
Grant
Tara’s gasp was sharp, slicing deep. “You know each other?”
“Yeah,” Regan’s eyes narrowed to slits as she focused on me. “Julius told you to stay the fuck away from the club.”
This time, there was no sound at all from Tara, and it was somehow worse. She dropped my hand like it was an anchor she couldn’t be attached to and stepped back. The way she looked at me . . . it was bloody awful. Her expression was surprise and hurt and distrust, all mixed together.
She stared at me like I was a stranger.
Her attention darted to Regan for a moment, and she whispered it as if she didn’t want to know the answer. “He’s a member?”
“No—” I started.
Regan cut me off. “He tried to become one.”
Tara pressed her fingers to her lips, possibly to hold in the sound of shock she wanted to make. “You knew?” Her eyes were oceans of hurt and betrayal. “When?”
The only thing I could control at this point was my ability to tell the truth. “From the beginning.”