Page 114 of Heart Over Heels

“I’ll be honest,” Beck replied. “I have no fucking clue what goes on back there. Shouldn’tyouhave the keys? It’s your area.”

Rush’s brow creased. “I didn’t keep it locked.”

Beck frowned too. “Then why…” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll check my office later, but right now we need to get the doors open.”

His tone brooked no argument, and Rush backed off with a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

Zephyr slipped back into the space Beck had put between them, moving with a cat’s grace as he brushed up along the higher demon’s side. Beck’s arm found its place around him again, and he answered Zephyr’s plea with his own obedient, “Yes, sir.”

We had to get the doors open, but before that, Beck had an incubus to feed.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

Mercer

We had a saying in the service: no plan survives enemy contact.The Dollhouse dancers weren’t my enemies, but since they’d likely closed ranks behind Darby’s orders to keep me out, they’d become a force of opposition all the same.

So I tried not to plan.

But that was nearly impossible when my thoughts had spent the last twenty-eight hours circling like vultures over the carcass of my love life. It was still strange, realizing the person I’d fallen for was the furthest thing from what I would ever have considered my “type.” I had never thought about another man the way I thought about Darby. Hell, I’d never thought aboutanyonethe way I thought about him. And now, I couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else.

It wasn’t only Darby that brought me here, though. I had other concerns, namely about the conversation with Antonella that had been too brief and brusque for comfort. She said my part in this was over, but I had come to see that the trouble in Vegas went far beyond me.

My concern compounded as the hours dragged by. The angels had destroyed the Dollhouse. Worse than I even knew since I hadn’t been allowed inside. But was that the sole reason they wanted the place emptied out? Devastating as it was, a bit of vandalism was far from the worst thing they could have done.

I wasn’t sure the club would be open when I rolled the Victory into the lot, but it was. Packed, actually. There was hardly room to park, which made me grateful for the bike’s ability to wedge into a space that didn’t technically exist. After killing the engine, I stowed my helmet, then turned to face the black brick façade of the Devil’s Dollhouse.

Customers looped around the side of the building beneath the second-story windows belonging to the dolls’ bedrooms. Darby told me there used to be bars over the glass, and the thought turned my stomach. It was bad enough that the old club owner called the dancers dogs. Worse that he caged them too.

But there wouldn’t be anyone upstairs right now. Everyone would be on the floor, working.

I dragged my gaze back to the line of hopeful admittees. The crowd was abuzz with anticipation. A few wore game-themed costumes that would delight Darby. I followed their focus to the entry, where IDs would be offered up under the red glow of the lights, and searched for the bouncer.

Please, not Colette.

If they’d brought in a stand-in to cover the door tonight, I might’ve had a chance of slipping in unnoticed. It wasn’t like they had my photo taped behind the bar with “Do Not Admit” scrawled across it, and the Dollhouse didn’t bother with guest lists.

But then I saw her.

Sleek black suit, slick blonde ponytail, and dark eyes scanning the lot and the line in alternating sweeps.

Colette, indeed.

I couldn’t risk her spotting me.

Nibbling the inside of my lip, I crouched beside the Victory and opened the saddlebag. After a bit of rummaging, my fingers closed around the small toolkit I kept inside. It was nothing fancy, just enough to tinker with a carburetor or, potentially, break into a nightclub.

Snapping the saddlebag closed, I stood with the toolkit tucked under my arm. The front door was clearly out of the question, but the back door would be unmanned. I wasn’t exactly trained in breaking and entering, but I’d fiddled with Humvee engines overseas and tweaked the Victory enough to have developed a feel for stubborn metal.

Once I was inside, I could find Darby, and we could talk. I didn’t need long, just a few minutes between sets to apologize again and issue a warning. Maybe Antonella’s words would trigger something in him. Or maybe this was just an elaborate excuse to see him again.

Either way, I needed to do it.

Slipping down the side of the building, I hugged the shadowed edge where the light from the sign didn’t reach. Only after I exited Colette’s line of sight did I start to relax.

The rear of the building came into view, complete with a cramped yard boxed in by a six-foot wall of cinderblock. Outside it, a big blue dumpster had been filled to heaping with broken furniture and busted speaker stacks. They must have spent hours hauling that shit out—clearing the wreckage. I was almost relieved not to have seen the club at its worst, but I wasn’t sure if walking into it now would be any better.