The music was deafening, a cacophony of throbbing beats mixed with blinking club lights. Hundreds of people on the dance floor swayed and moved to the pulse of the music, wrapped in various degrees of leather, lace, and sequined clothes that were as revealing as they were eye-catching. My gaze wandered over the dancers, male and female alike, with something like awe.

“You can look all you want on the way out,” Bishop said, leaning down to speak into my ear, keeping his hands on me as he guided me through the club with Kace ahead of us and Misael behind. “Muse doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

It was the first time I’d heard our informant’s name, and Muse was certainly fitting for him. When Kace brought us to the back, into a red-walled room with black leather furniture, the man sitting in there looked like the room had been made with him in mind.

Tall and lanky, he lounged on one of the couches with his legs stretched out and his arms over the back. Long, black dreadlocks with lots of gold accents woven into them spilled over his dark shoulders, and his chest was bare beneath a black leather vest. His jeans were well-fitted, like he’d been poured into them, and he wore leather boots. I couldn’t tell how old he was—maybe twenty?—but he carried himself with an almost ageless grace, as if he’d seen more in his lifetime than any man should.

The Lost Boys strode in confidently, keeping me between them as they each reached out to shake Muse’s hand. I couldn’t tell quite what the dynamic between the four of them was, but it seemed like they were familiar with each other.

“Long time no see, friends,” Muse said. His voice was deep, and he talked slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. “Hear you’re looking for some information. You know that’s the shit I trade in. Sit. We’ll get some drinks going, and then we can talk.”

Nineteen

The boys all settled onto the couches, and I followed suit, finding myself jittery as I sat between Kace and Misael. I wanted to dive into our questions immediately, I wanted to ask Muse about everything that I’d had on my mind for literal months. Kace kept his hand on my thigh though—a small, subtle sign to keep it cool and not try to jump into anything too quickly.

I sucked in a breath, shooting him a quick look as I rested my hand on his. They’d allowed me to come with them instead of insisting I stay at home, and I wanted to prove I deserved to be here. I was out of my depth, but I was learning how to exist in this world of theirs.

Drinks were brought around, and the boys spoke a little with Muse. Small talk. Chatter, really. Nothing that was nearly half as important as what I wanted to be talking about with him.

I tapped my foot on the floor softly, channeling the antsy feeling in my gut into something besides hounding Muse about what he knew. Of course, as much as I thought I was being subtle in my agitation, Muse picked it up. His gaze flickered over to me as he took a drink from the glass in his hand. Amusement danced over his face.

“You’re Cora, ain’t you?” he asked. “The one with the rich motherfucker for a dad.”

I straightened up a little in my seat. “Yeah. I’m her.”

The lanky man laughed. “Relax. No harm intended.”

“Muse thinks he’s a fuckin’ comedian when he’s really just an ass,” Bishop said.

“I think I can be both of those things simultaneously,” Muse answered with a smirk. He looked back to me. “But it was just an honest question. I swear. In my line of work, it’s always best to keep things nice and casual, you know. People get tense, they get stupid. I don’t like stupid.”

It wasn’t a threat so much as him laying down the rules: don’t get too ahead of yourself, and don’t do anything dumb.

Okay. I could do that. I sipped on the drink that had been brought for me, something light and fruity—sweet. I liked it. I could barely taste the alcohol in it, just a little kick at the back end, but I could feel it as it settled into my stomach, calming my nerves.

I stopped tapping my foot and settled back a little on the seat, resolving to do this the right way—to play by Muse’s rules. With the tension in the air settling, the boys and Muse talked for a while longer about people and things I knew nothing about.

I got the sense that maybe this was part of Muse’s payment, part of his bargain for accepting his help. And sure enough, as the conversation went on, I realized that the topics being discussed were definitely more than light chit-chat. They were offering him information in exchange for the info we hoped to gain from him.

After several more minutes of talk, Bishop segued into questions of his own.

“So rumor has it that you’ve been keeping a tight ear out on the elite lately. Heavy tabs.”

Muse nodded. “Aye.” He smirked. “But you already know I keep eyes and ears out all over town. You’re lookin’ for specifics.”

“Names,” Bishop said. “And possibly any motives that could be tied to Cora’s father, Mr. Van Rensselaer, and his imprisonment.”

Muse stroked his chin lightly, contemplating.

“You know that kind of information don’t come cheap, let alone free,” he said.

“And you know we’re good for whatever information you got. We don’t stiff friends.”

Muse laughed. “We’re friends? Ha! You flatter me.” He took another drink and looked to me. “Well. I know that the Lost Boys always pay their debts. We’ll call it a favor for information. I’ll phone it in when I need it.”

I shifted, not knowing if I liked the sound of owing this man and not knowing just what that favor may or may not entail. But if it was for my father, I was willing to let the possibility be ambiguous for the time being. After all, once I got Dad out of trouble, I would have better resources to handle whatever came my way—even if it involved Muse.

So I nodded.

Tags: Eva Ashwood Slateview High Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net