Page 100 of Hunted

Knowing every dollar was a step closer to real freedom, I smiled, letting my mark think he’d won. And if his Cheshire cat grin was anything to go by, Henry Lewis definitely thought he was getting the better end of the deal tonight.

“Lead the way,” I murmured in that husky, seductive tone Marie made me practise a hundred fucking times this morning til I got it right.

Lewis pulled an expensive-looking black leather wallet out of his jacket pocket and tossed four crisp fifty-pound notes onto the bar without taking his eyes off me. He turned, extended his elbow, and waited until I threaded my hand through to rest coyly on his bicep before leading us away.

But not before returning to his table of equally psychotic buddies—Randall was back.

“Let’s go, boys.” Lewis snickered. “Spence, bring that bag I know you’ve got burning a hole in your pocket. We’ve got ourselves a whole damn party now.”

Fuck.

The same curse echoed through my comms, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out Beck was pissed at the change in plan.

“Do you have this, Addie? It’s now four-on-one if you can’t manage to get Lewis alone.”

Unable to work out a way to answer him without my mark knowing I had a Raven on my shoulder, I let the silence stretch—and Beck got snappy.

“Adelaide, give us a sign if you can’t handle it.”

“Use a codeword,” Van added, ever the brains of the operation.

“Right. Say something about birds if you need us,” Beck pressed.

Okay. Birds. That could work, even if it is woefully vague.

Our party exited the lounge through the main doorway. Just a straight shot to the elevator bank down the hall. The central cabin’s doors dinged open just as we reached it, so perfectly timed I wasn’t sure if it was fate or somebody with talented fingers at work.

My money was on Van, though.

Lewis entered first, with my body still firmly attached to his side. He jabbed the button for the Penthouse suite, shooting me a ravenous grin, but managed to hold off until the doors closed, sealing us all in, before turning into the monster I already knew he was.

There was a reason Henry Lewis was a dead man walking. It might not be the fact that he was willing to buy a woman to satiate all his dark desires, but that sure as shit wasn’t saving him tonight, either.

He twisted, bracing his arms on either side of my head, goaded on by his band of merry men, circling behind him like sharks. All polished smoothness vanished from his features and his eyes turned cold. They narrowed on my face after perusing my body at length.

I schooled my expression into neutrality—couldn’t afford to let him see an ounce of the disgust his lingering gaze was inflicting upon me. Only the role I was playing: the woman who routinely used her body to please men just like him to make ends meet.

“Is Katarina Ward your real name?” he asked, whisky breath furthering the tempo of the swirling, festering pit of nausea in my belly.

“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?” I purred, pouting for good measure.

His brows dipped lower, suspicious. Then he straightened as if a thought just occurred to him. Must be a strange feeling when you get so little of them.

“No matter. If Kat is what you want to go by, then cat is what we’re going to buy.”

Randall and co. sniggered behind him, evidently impressed by the wordplay.

I barely restrained an eye roll. Beck had no such luck—I could hear it in the scoff that came through the comms.

Lewis’ mask dropped a little lower. He grabbed my chin roughly in one hand and squeezed. “How many men have you slept with on nights just like this?”

“Yeah, what’s your number, whore?” Randall jeered.

“Does it matter?” I asked, staring Lewis down and ignoring the others.

He seemed to like that—being the centre of my attention. He squeezed harder for a moment, puckering my lips and making my teeth ache, then relinquished me with a sharp shove into the wall.

“I guess it doesn’t, no,” he answered, turning and straightening his jacket just as the cabin came to a halt and the doors dinged open once more.