Donovan and I set off to The Emerald as soon as I’m ready. He’s pissed off I took so long to get ready; then again, what I do that doesn’t fuck him off, I’ll never know. Not that the feeling isn’t mutual.
The green glow in the sky comes into view, and I place my earpiece. I’m thankful this first encounter with Collins and Brenner will be the only time I’ll need it.
“You going to test it to make sure it works?” Donovan slants a look at me.
“Checked it at the mansion. If I’m forced to listen to Hazel and Breckin in my fucking ear all night, I’m not starting before I have to.”
“I want you to leave your weapon in the car.”
“Which one, bossy pants?”
“Malia.”
“No.”
Donovan tightens his grip on the steering wheel, irritation clear on his face. I’m not going into that club without a weapon.
“I don’t trust you not to get into a fight and shoot someone. No weapons.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior, Daddy.”
My brother scoffs next to me, no longer pressing the issue. He knows full well he can’t talk me into going in unarmed. Especially not when I’m diving head-first into fed dick.
Donovan stops in front of the club, and I jump out, slamming the car door before he can tell me to do anything else. I know what to do. Yeah, I’m fucked off about this whole thing, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get the job done. Everyone seems to be doubting me lately is beginning to grate on my nerves.
Fuck, I need a drink.
The club is packed. Sweaty bodies grind on each other, and music vibrates through my body. Oh, the trouble I could get into if I wanted to. I let it sit, contemplating letting this get a little rowdy and having fun while working this fucked-up mission. But, from what I understand of Collins, he’s a prissy little cunt, a federal agent through and through. He won’t want wild chaos; he needs calm and collected. Unfortunately, calm and collected aren’t my forte; if only my dad didn’t have a pussy to swing at him. I’ll be the first to fuck shit up.
To strip on that bar and have every eye in here on me… I’m wet just thinking about it.
“I’m almost into the cameras,” Hazel says through the earpiece, pulling me from my deviant thoughts.
“Do you remember which one is your target?”
Christ, why did I demand Breckin be involved in this? Maybe to get enjoyment from his pissy attitude and shoot a middle finger at my brother.
“Not my first rodeo, Breck.”
“I’m in. I can see you.”
“Knock ‘em dead, gorgeous.”
I scan the crowd, both men’s pictures clear in my head. It doesn’t take long to spot them lounging against the bar. Brenner and Collins have more space around them than anyone else in this club. Taking in my surroundings, I try to find the best vantage point to get their attention. As crowded as it is in here, stripping on the bar might be my only option.
There’s a small clearing towards the back of the club, almost in direct line of sight of the two feds. Heading for the more open space, I push through bodies until two large hands take hold of my shoulders and shove me back a couple of steps. I’m on him in an instant. I pull my knife from my thigh sheath and aim it at the dickhead’s dick.
“A tiny thing with a pretty little knife,” the man says in irritation.
My head cocks to the side when he rolls his eyes and only looks inconvenienced.
“What are you going to do, Princess? Poke me?”
Taking a handful of his cock and balls, I strengthen my grip and tug him forward. Dickhead's eyes go wide in shock before filling with rage.
“This pretty little knife would slice through your cock like fucking butter. My favorite way is to get you hard and chop it like a tree branch. Now, be a good boy and say you’re sorry.”
“Fuck you, bitch.”