Page 31 of Prey

“Motherfucker.” Marcus peels bills from his wallet while his dancer laughs.

“Your sensory shit doesn’t help with winning billiards,” Lucien grins, pocketing the cash.

“Speaking of sensory,” Marcus straightens, all business despite the half-naked man attached to his hip. “Got a ping from one of my sources. Financial investigators started asking questions about shell companies that trace back to our interests.”

My phone screen glows in my peripheral vision. Camera four shows Jenna curled on the cot, knees drawn to her chest. I swipe to camera two which shows a different angle, same position. She hasn’t moved in twenty-three minutes.

“Another round?” Raphael appears at my elbow, bottle of Macallan in hand.

“Yeah.” I hold out my glass without looking up.

“Fascinating stuff on that screen.” His voice carries that particular tone—the one that sounds casual but isn’t. “Must be important.”

I pocket the phone. “Just checking operations.”

“Operations.” He pours two fingers of scotch. “Right.”

Across the room, Darius catches my eye and grins. That’s never good. He whispers something to the blonde on his lap, who giggles and slides off. He strides over with that particular swagger that means he’s about to be Darius.

“Nik! Perfect timing. We’re doing body shots.” He grabs my arm. “Come on, you look like you need to loosen up.”

“I’m good here.”

“Bullshit. You’re wound tighter than Ezra during tax season.”

Ezra speaks without looking up from his cards. “Statistically speaking, sexual frustration increases cortisol levels by?—”

“Nobody asked for math, Ez.” Darius tugs my arm again. “Come on. That brunette’s been eyeing you for weeks.”

My phone buzzes. I glance down—motion detected, camera one. My thumb hovers over the screen.

“Or maybe you’re too busy with your special project?” Darius’s grin sharpens. “Must be exhausting, all that… surveillance.”

Theon snorts from the couch. “Leave him alone, D. Some of us actually work instead of working out all day.”

“This is work.” Darius gestures at his shirtless torso. “Maintaining assets requires dedication.”

“Your abs aren’t assets,” Dominic says, dealing cards to Lucien. “They’re vanity.”

“Says the man with what, sixty percent ink coverage?”

“Sixty-seven,” Dominic corrects. “And mine serves a purpose.”

“Intimidation isn’t a purpose,” Marcus cuts in.

My phone buzzes again. I resist checking it for four seconds before caving. Jenna’s sitting up now, staring directly at camera two like she knows I’m watching.

“Jesus, Nik.” Darius plants himself in front of me. “Whatever you’re monitoring can wait five minutes. Have a drink. Get your dick sucked. Remember what fun is.”

“I know what fun is.”

“Do you?” Darius snatches my phone. “Because this—” He waves it above his head as I try to grab for it. “This is not fun.”

“Give it back.”

“Make me.” He tosses it to Damon, who catches it without looking up from his cards.

“Real mature.”