Aflame (Fall Away #4)

He tugged at me like a magnet.

Jax pulled Juliet down, kissing her nose and then her lips. “I love you,” he said, and my gaze flashed to Jared, locking eyes with his.

“I’ll be home by midnight,” I heard Jax say, but Jared continued to hold me. The heat was unmistakable. But what scared me was how I also saw the coldness.

A wave of déjà vu hit me, and it was like I was back in high school for a moment.

“If you’re one second late,” Juliet scolded Jax, “I’ll have a tantrum.”

“I love your tantrums,” he flirted, pulling her hips into his.

“I mean it,” she emphasized, trying to sound tough, but I knew it was just a game they played. “I will make you bleed if you’re late.”

“Promise?” he taunted, diving in for another kiss.

I shook my head, keeping my gaze off Jared.

“Jax, let’s go.” Madoc pulled Jax by the neck, leading him away from his girlfriend.

All three guys walked to Jared’s car, every inch of their well-dressed, manicured looks emphasizing that they were men now. It was still hard to wrap my head around it at times, since I’d grown up with Jared and met Madoc and Jax as teens. I’d seen them all—more often than not—in jeans and T-shirts. I’d seen them do the dumbest things and even joined in a few times.

But those boys were gone.

“Jared!” Fallon shouted as Jared opened his driver’s side door. “Get them home safe!”

He arched a brow, giving her a condescending look. “They’ll be home before I will,” he said, looking over at me. “I don’t have a curfew.”

My eyes stung with sudden anger as I watched him climb into his car without another word.

He started the car and backed out of the driveway, not sparing a glance back.

Asshole.

Oh, sure. Go have fun. No one’s waiting at home for you. If you don’t have me, you’ll just go play with a random girl, because why not, right?

I clenched my fists and let my head fall back.

Shit. I was being ridiculous.

Madoc and Jax were going to have fun with their friends. To celebrate. They’d come home just as much in love with Fallon and Juliet as ever.

And Jared was manipulating me. Just like he always did, and I fell for it. He was a grown man who still found it quite appetizing to take a great big bite out of my peace of mind. He expected me to give in and call or text to tell him how much I loved him. Or he expected me to come pick a fight tomorrow about something silly just so I could get a rise out of him. He wanted me mad, because he wanted to draw me out.

As the sound of Jared’s engine left the neighborhood, I let the small smile spread across my lips.

He was so used to toying with me. It was like second nature. So why not react and give him what he wanted?

“Wicked is a dual strip club, right?” I asked the girls, already knowing the answer. “Female dancers downstairs and male dancers upstairs?”

Juliet glanced at Fallon, and then both of them looked at me.

As realization hit, Juliet gasped and Fallon threw her head back, laughing.

And then we all shrieked, scrambling for my front door to get ready.

***

“Hi,” I greeted the stocky bouncer with the military buzz cut.

“Hello, ladies.” He looked us up and down, and I stopped, which caused Fallon to bump into me as she veered around into the club with Juliet.

“You let women sit downstairs, right?” I inquired. “If we decided to watch the female dancers later on, I mean.”

He raised his eyebrows, amused. “We love our female customers,” he played. “No matter what turns them on.”

I straightened. Yeah, I didn’t mean that really, but okay.

Entering the club, I inhaled, not sure what to expect. Cigarettes and maybe the stench of stale liquor, but that wasn’t what hit me as soon as I entered.

The scent of golden peaches and rich berries and lilies drifted through my nostrils, filling my lungs with their hint of vanilla and musk. The black and burgundy interior of the entryway was accented with gold fixtures and would probably seem gaudy elsewhere, but here, the less-is-more idea prevailed. It wasn’t overwhelmingly busy. The carpets were lush, the walls were a warm but dark violet, and the décor possessed singular objects on which to focus your attention instead of too much to distract you.

We stepped through a doorframe without a door on it and immediately stopped, seeing the low ceiling give way, and the room before us damn near took my breath away.

“No wonder they dressed up,” I said under my breath. “This place . . .”

I’d only heard about Wicked. It was halfway between Shelburne Falls and Chicago and was a popular stopping point for men—and women—on their way home from work to the suburbs. It was reported to have great music, the best-looking dancers—which it would, since there were about four universities within an hour of here that had a lot of hardworking students needing good-paying jobs—and it also had a five-star chef.

The guys had to be paying a thousand dollars per table to throw this bachelor party.

A hostess in a tight black dress—much like my own—approached us with menus.

“Hello.” Her long, brown hair, bronze complexion, and dark eyes glimmered in the surrounding candlelight. “The ladies’ show upstairs doesn’t start again for another hour, but we can get you seated.”

I barely heard her, looking around for the guys. It was after ten, and while they held only two performances with the male dancers on Friday and Saturday nights, the female dancers performed around the clock.