Page 54 of Heart Over Heels

She smirked. “I’m sureyoudo.”

Beck didn’t budge, just leveled her with a look that said she was coming whether she liked it or not.

She huffed and tugged her jacket open. “Shall I growl at them? Wave this around?” She drew her revolver in a swift, practiced motion then brandished it in the dim light.

Beck strode forward to cup his palm over the barrel and press it down slowly. “Don’tdo that. We’ve inspired enough mass hysteria tonight.”

Colette muttered something under her breath but holstered the weapon obediently.

Beck started toward the front, tossing words over his shoulder. “The power box is around the back, Mister James. Darby can show you.”

They were gone in a moment, leaving Mercer and me standing on the empty club floor. Other than my tail idly waving, neither of us moved.

Mercer’s gaze slid toward me, and his brows pinched almost apologetically. “You don’t have to.”

“I said I wanted to help.”

The furrows in his brow deepened. “Doyouknow anything about severed power lines?”

I shrugged, lips twitching despite the unease. “I’d say we’re on equal footing there.”

He nodded again before his eyes dipped lower, skimming over my body. I imagined what he saw. Brown skin dark in the low light, nipple rings glinting, cock tucked inside a skimpy black thong.

His throat bobbed then he asked, “Do you wanna throw something on first?”

I did, a little. Being rather violently expelled from Brad’s lap had left me out of sorts and too self-aware. But admitting as much made me itch. I wasn’t shy, and I wasn’t ashamed.

“It’s just skin, Mercy.” I angled my chin up, daring him to push it.

He looked like he wanted to, but he swallowed instead and extended his arm toward the back of the building. “Lead the way.”

With the champagne still fogging my brain, I cut a meandering line out the rear exit and into the desert night. Despite the darkness, the heat of the day still clung, heavy and stifling. The pavement warmed the soles of my feet as I crept through the shadows pooling around the building. I didn’t know exactly where the box was, but thankfully, it wasn’t hard to find.

A padlock lay twisted and useless on the ground beneath the open metal casing. Inside, severed lines curled like blackened veins.

It did no good to look at it, but we stared anyway, wearing twin frowns and matching hands-on-hips poses until Mercer spoke at last.

“So, this Maslow guy…”

I grunted, not looking at him. My eyes stayed on the box and the neat, deliberate cut, wondering how the wraith had managed it without frying himself. Pity. It would’ve been a gift to stumble on his carcass smoking in the dirt. A merciful end compared to what he deserved.

“What does he have against you?” Mercer asked.

I wrapped my arms around my middle, remembering the feel of Maslow’s siphoning touch—how he left me weak and useless. It was bad enough being sucked dry like a damn juice box week after week, but watching him do the same to my boys was a torture all its own.

“He used to own us,” I muttered. “Probably thinks he still does.”

Mercer’s head turned sharply. “Ownyou?”

“He’s a con man,” I bit out while heat rose in my chest. “Got some demon dealer to help him buy us out of Hell. It was great until it wasn’t, and it wasn’t great for long.”

Mercer was quiet for a second. “Do you think he would hurt you?”

“No.”

“No?” He sounded unconvinced.

“He wants us alive.” I scowled, trying to find the words for things I didn’t want to name. “We’re made of something he likes. He needs it. Or at least he used to.”