Sabotage: A Dark Enemies to Lovers Romance

“What is all this?” Alex asks.

“Are you left or right-handed?” Tyson asks him, ignoring his previous question.

“Left,” he answers.

“Come here.” Tyson walks over to a chair in the middle of the room and pulls up an armrest, locking it in place. “You’ll go first. Lay your right arm out on the armrest. Palm up.”

Finn looks at me, his green eyes wide, and I shrug. I wasn’t given a fucking itinerary.

Alex plops down in the chair, laying his arm out while Tyson walks over to a table and grabs three black straps that resemble belts. Going back over to Alex, he orders, “Open your hand.” He places one of the belts right in the center of his palm. “Make a fist,” Tyson adds, and Alex does so, wrapping his hand around the leather. Tyson pulls it tight enough around the armrest to make Alex flinch and then buckles it in place underneath. Then he does it again with the second belt in the middle of his forearm, securing his arm to it. The third he throws in Alex’s lap. “That one goes in your mouth to bite on.”

“What—?”

We all turn around when the door behind us opens, cutting off Alex, and an older man walks in with a fucking doctor’s coat on. “Good evening, gentlemen.” He smiles. “Please, everyone have a seat. Get comfortable.” He gestures to the chairs and hospital beds that sit around the large space. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.” He then walks over to a table that has what I can only guess is a tattoo gun on it.

“We’re getting tats?” Jenks questions.

“No. I’m not qualified to give those. An artist, I am not.” The old man laughs at his own joke.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Alex growls, trying to pull his arm free of its restraints.

“This is as close to an NDA as you’re going to get,” Tyson states. Walking over to a table at the back of the room, he picks up three backpacks and then comes over to drop them at our feet. “It’s your key to the castle, so to speak.” He widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest. “And it’s going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Your clock has to be off,” Jenks argues from the back seat, pointing at the dash.

“It’s not wrong.” Finn shakes his head, still playing that damn video game.

“We were told one o’clock.”

“They’ll be here,” I assure Alex.

“We’re going to be late. I’d rather not get my balls cut off by Ty, thank you very much,” Alex snaps.

Finn laughs. “He’ll make you eat them if you call him Ty again. I swear that dude hates you with a passion. Do we need to sign an NDA?” He jokes about that night at the Cathedral.

“Shut the fuck up.” Alex slams his fist into the back of Finn’s seat. “At least I didn’t cry.”

“I did not cry,” Finn says defensively. “I’m pretty sure I blacked out, though. Fuck, I still have nightmares about it.” He laughs at himself. “That shit hurt.”

Goddamn right, it hurt.

Lights pull into the parking lot, and I sit up straighter. “Showtime.”

I hear a backpack being unzipped in the back seat, and then a black mask is thrown into my lap, followed by a black hoodie. I slip them both on. Then I remove my gun from the driver’s side door pocket and cock it, making sure the safety is off.

“Motherfucker,” Finn hisses.

“What?” I ask, looking over at him, and he’s leaning forward, staring out the tinted windshield, his black mask already in place, gun in hand.

“He brought his daughter,” he growls.

“We’ll just bring her—”

“No,” I interrupt Alex.

“We can’t leave her. She’s a liability that I’m not going to take the fall for,” he argues.

“I’ll take care of it,” I say, reaching my hand out. “Someone hand me a backpack.”

Jenks places one in my hand, and I open it up, digging around inside to find what I need and slide it into the pocket of my hoodie. I gotta hand it to Tyson. He is always one step ahead. I swear the Lords have every drug known to man just stashed somewhere in case they need it for some fucked-up reason.

Seconds later, another car pulls up, and the man gets out. The guy we’re here for points at his daughter and makes the introductions. We don’t have a very clear view. They’re not standing under a light, and they’ve got their headlights off.

“What kind of sick man brings his daughter into this shit?” Finn wonders.

“Maybe she’s into it,” Jenks offers. “Women can be just as fucked up as men. Don’t be so sexist, Finn.” He laughs jokingly.

The statement makes me think of Raylee and our afternoon in her bedroom. I haven’t seen her since, but I can still taste her and the wine. Fuck, I want to pour champagne all over her and lick her clean.