I sighed. “Are we really back to this? This was so first semester.”

  “Of course.” Her hand flew up, gesturing to me. “You’re funnier, too. Agh!”

  I waited.

  I waited another beat.

  She remained quiet, so I asked, “Want me to do it now or what?”

  “Yes,” she bit out, shoving back her chair. She stalked around the table and stood over my shoulder, her arms crossed over her chest. I glanced up. She had an annoyed scowl on her face.

  Well. She was about to get even more annoyed.

  I opened up my program.

  Click.

  Another click.

  I typed in my password, which I know she saw, but I would change it the second she left.

  Then I went to her file, pulled up her social media accounts.

  She growled under her breath.

  Twitter.

  It opened right away. I saw everything, had total access to it. And I clicked out of it, dragged it to the garbage.

  I did the same thing with her Instagram.

  Her Facebook.

  Tumblr.

  She had three fan-fiction accounts.

  All of them.

  Six emails.

  A video blogger account.

  She had a Pinterest account.

  Every one was opened, closed out, and I dragged the entire program into the garbage.

  She remained there, letting out more disgruntled grunts, growls, curses, until I had emptied the entire folder. Once that was done, I took her entire folder (even though it was empty) and that went into the garbage, too.

  The garbage was emptied.

  Then I went to my hard drive, and since she knew the coding, she saw me wipe the backups.

  After that, I went back into my program, pulled up her name, and wiped that, too.

  I waited, letting her digest everything once it was done.

  “How do I know you won’t get in again?”

  I looked up at her. “Go and change all of your passwords. Other than that, you’ll just have to trust me.”

  She was visibly upset, and I got it. I did. But I didn’t feel bad, not after how she had threatened me last semester, and how she treated me. Kash’s conversation from Camille’s office came back to me, and he was right.

  Anything. That was my line for what I would do to protect those I loved.

  “Fine.” She stormed back to the other side of the table, grabbed her backpack, and hoisted it on. Just before she left, she placed a hand on the table. “I will report you if you ever do anything like that again.”

  I gave her a look. Camille Story. Hello?

  She flushed. “I mean to myself or Melissa, or anyone else in our class. I will go to the school dean, and I don’t care whose father donated that check, I’ll take everything with me that I have on you.”

  Now I started to get heated. “That wasn’t a threat, was it? Meaning you don’t currently have anything on me.” I paused, letting that hang in the air. “Because if you did, then you know me, and you know that I’d have to go and find it.”

  Her eyes were almost bugging out. She screwed her face up, her mouth flattening. A quiet scream escaped, sounding like steam leaving a teapot. “No! I don’t have anything. Just, don’t hack me. Ever. Or I’ll go to the feds.”

  Hawking’s dean. Now the FBI. I almost retorted, Who’s next? The pope? But I refrained. She was upset. I understood it, and now she needed to maintain a semblance of control. Having the last word would give her that sense of control. So yeah. Whatever floated her boat. I kept quiet and she huffed off a second later.

  Fitz came down the aisle. “Was I supposed to have fended her off?”

  “No.” I was back in my program, and I changed my password for the entire system. Then I went in and got into her phone. Call me a violator, but I needed to make sure.

  A second later, she sent a text out.

  Hoda: It’s done.

  Quinn: Are you sure? And you watched her the entire time?

  Hoda: Yes. I told her I’d go to the FBI if she did it again.

  My stomach dropped, but I was waiting, air suspended in my throat, and my fingers were itching to start typing away, when Quinn texted back.

  Good. I’m sure with everything Kash and Peter are going through, that’s the last sort of battle Bailey wants. Are we still on for drinks tomorrow night? I know how you can get Liam to sleep with you.

  I wanted to puke. My stomach was churning over.

  Hoda: Yes! Let’s. Girls’ Martini Night at the Ritz.

  Quinn: You’re on. See you then! 8 sharp.

  I had meant to close out Hoda’s text messages, too, but not now. And crap. Crap! I had wanted to believe Hoda had become somewhat of a friend. I truly did. But this changed everything.

  Quinn.

  Fuck.

  * * *

  I was going to tell Matt first about Hoda and Quinn.

  I knew I should tell Kash, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t, and I didn’t know why. It was like when I tried to open my mouth, to tell Fitz that I should be going to wherever Kash was, the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth. And my hands refused to pick up the phone and call him myself, or even text him.

  Matt I could text.

  I asked where he was. He said Naveah, so that’s where we were going. I looked up at the front seat where Fitz and my driver were sitting, and for once I had something they didn’t know about.

  Once we pulled up to Naveah, I texted again.

  Outside Naveah. Can you come out here? I don’t want to be where Torie is.

  He wouldn’t question me on Torie, but he’d question me on where else I wanted to go.

  Matt: Sure. Finishing, gotta pay. Can I bring Tony and Guy?

  Me: No. You and me only.

  Matt: Is this a Team Batt thing?

  I grinned, typing fast, and more relieved.

  Me: Oh yeah!

  Matt: Sweet. Paying now. Out soon.

  I put my phone away. “Matt’s coming out here. He wants to go to Octavo instead.”

  I was lying.

  Fitz frowned at me in the rearview mirror. “He does?”

  I nodded. “Hmm. That’s not a problem, right?”

  Fitz didn’t respond. He just stared at me until there was a commotion outside and the door was opening. Sounds from the street and the club filtered in. There was a line waiting to get into Naveah, and people began shouting, seeing Matt. Then he was sliding in, his guards coming up behind him, the door shut after him. His guards went to where Fitz was getting out to talk with them.

  Matt saw that and looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “What’s going on?”

  I locked eyes with him at the same time I texted him.

  I spoke, “I told Fitz you wanted to go to Octavo instead.”

  His eyebrows arched even higher, and his phone buzzed from me. He took it out, reading my text.

  Go along with it. I’ll explain there.

  He nodded, putting his phone back and raking his hand through his hair. “Yeah.” Fitz opened his door, his head coming inside. “Are you sure about Octavo?”

  Matt dipped his head down, his mouth pursed as if he were bored already with this questioning. “Yeah, man. What’s the problem? Kash knows the owners. We’ll be safe there.”

  That was the point. Kash knew them. Kash did not own them. And for full disclosure here, I didn’t know who owned Octavo myself. What I did know was that there was some form of mutual respect between the owner and Kash. He mentioned the owners, saying there were two of them, and I could tell from his tone that he was cautious about both. So, for what I wanted to talk to Matt about, I knew his only employees would be the guards, and they would stay a respectable distance away. That meant I could actually talk to him, without having anyone else, like Torie, dropping by, or any of Matt’s friends. Or mine, now that I thought about it. I knew Melissa had taken to hanging out with Torie and Tamara at Naveah, too.

  Fitz continued to stare at Matt.

  “What’s the problem?”

  No response from Fitz, but he straightened, and a second later, he got back inside while Matt’s guards left. “They’ll follow us there.”

  Matt nodded, as if he’d been expecting all of this to happen.

  When the car pulled away from the curb, he glanced down at me and both of us shared a look. His elbow nudged mine and he grinned.

  Have I mentioned how much I love my brother?

  SIXTEEN

  Kash

  We arrived at the warehouse, and I was about to step outside when my phone rang.

  It was one of Matt’s guards.

  “Something wrong?” I answered, putting the phone to my ear.

  “Bailey and Matt are going to Octavo.”

  “Why?”

  “Neither would say, and we weren’t told this until Bailey pulled up to Naveah. She texted Matt, and he went outside to her.”

  “Where are you currently?”

  “Following Bailey’s vehicle.”

  “And they didn’t say why they were going there? Whose idea was it?”

  A moment of hesitation. “They’re both saying Matt’s idea.”

  I waited.

  He didn’t continue.

  “But?” I prodded, inclining my head.

  “But Matt usually tells us when we’re changing locations ahead of time. He didn’t say a word. Fitz was the one who said Bailey claimed Matt wanted to go to Octavo.”

  Ah. That I understood, and he was right. Matt usually was decent about cooperating with the guards—at least he had been since Bailey’s second kidnapping attempt. So if the idea hadn’t come from Matt, then it came from Bailey and they were both lying, which meant she didn’t want me to know. Or she didn’t want extra hearing ears at Naveah, and neither idea sat well with me.

  I sighed. “Just do your job, and guard them both. Let them proceed how they want.”

  “Are you sure?”

  No, I wasn’t sure. And no, I didn’t want this to happen. But if something was going on with Bailey, I did what I always did. I watched, and I loved, and I would try to keep her safe until I had to swoop in myself.

  “Yeah.” My words came out clipped, because fuck, I wasn’t happy about this new development. “I have to go, but keep me updated on their movements.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  The call ended. I put my phone back in my pocket and got out of my SUV.

  Josh and Scott both stepped forward.

  “Everything’s ready.”

  Scott added, “Everyone is here, too.”

  “Harden made the trip okay?”

  Josh nodded. “He did. He’s the only one inside. Said he didn’t dare try and get any more of his men with him.” He paused a beat, sharing a look with Scott. “Your guest is prepped.”

  Good. Finally. It was time.

  On that note, I went inside.

  I looked at Harden. He lowered his head, a greeting. I returned the gesture, then I went forward. In the middle of the warehouse was a lone man, strapped to a chair. He was gagged and blindfolded. I stepped forward and took the blindfold off.

  Bailey wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

  “Hello, brother.”

  SEVENTEEN

  Bailey

  Octavo was a dark club. That’s the best way to describe it.

  The outside was nondescript. It was a black building with a red neon light that said the name of the club in simple lettering. A single silver door. A bouncer. A red velvet rope that sectioned off the line waiting to get inside.

  When we pulled up, we went to the head of the line.

  Fitz got out. The doorman saw him and nodded. The velvet rope was already being lifted as we were getting out, and with Matt leading the way, we went inside. Fitz trailed. Matt’s guards weren’t far behind. There was a black bar set up as soon as we stepped inside, with red neon lights highlighting the bottom of the bar. That was the theme of the entire place.

  Black.

  Red neon color.

  There were silver disco balls set up in the hallway, but as soon as we got a drink from the first bar, Matt’s guards were inside and waiting for us. A woman came down from a back hallway, clad in a black leather top and pants. They molded to her form. She wore black stilettos and her hair was slicked back. She looked like an assassin.

  She led us through a back hallway.

  Each door we passed was a solid black door.

  Small crystal disco balls hung from the ceiling, the only light in the hallway. The walls were covered in black velvet drapery.

  We kept winding around the building, at a slight incline, until she came to a door and opened it.

  Going through, we’d been shown to our own box. There was a large booth set up, all black. Red neon lights were under the booth and the middle was open. There was no table. Leading off from our private booth was a walkway that led down to the main dance floor, and set above everyone was the DJ. Same lighting coming from his booth. Red neon under his booth setup and around his stage. A grandiose disco ball hovered over him, and there was another, even larger one over the entire dance floor.

  That’s when I saw the people on the floor. They were in every color imaginable. Hot pink, purple. Flashing colors. Neon yellow, green. Everything neon. A few people were covered in body paint that was illuminated by the black light.

  I was not normally a dancing person, but seeing that crowd made me want to get lost in them. I was hungry for it, and ignoring the reason we were here, I grabbed Matt’s hand. “Come on!”

  He frowned, stepping close so Fitz and the others couldn’t hear. “I thought you wanted to talk or something?”

  I moved so I could speak in his ear. “I do, but right now I want to dance. Let’s dance!” I squeezed his hand, and pulling back, studying me, he gave a tight nod.

  We finished our drinks and ordered another round right away. Once we got those in hand, we tossed them back and headed down. Matt led the way.

  Fitz followed, standing at the edge of the crowd. I expected him or the others to pull us back, to not let us mingle with the regular crowd, but they held off. One stayed at the walkway leading to our booth. The other positioned himself at the other side of the dance floor. All three kept us in their line of sight.

  Once we got onto the floor, something came over me.

  I’d never felt it before.

  It was cliché. It was campy. It was phenomenal.

  It was exactly what I needed.

  The bass picked up. The tempo vibrated through the floors. The DJ hit the right notes, and the energy swept through everyone. The entire dance floor grew more frenzied, and Matt pushed us until we were in the middle. Once there, I didn’t stop to think.

  I closed my eyes. I lifted my arms, and I began to sway to the music.

  It hit me.

  A moment built up.

  Feeling unalive, vacant, dormant.

  Then, suddenly, I wasn’t empty.

  Something trickled back in, and I was desperate for more.

  Hungry. Starving.

  I wanted to feel more, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

  Right fucking now.

  The music. The darkness. The anonymity. Being there and knowing there wasn’t a set of twenty eyes watching me, reporting on me. And that feeling—I craved it.

  I grew frenzied for that feeling, and then there was a shift in the music. A sudden interruption. The bass was going boom, boom, boom. Pause. The break, and the music came back, but at a different pace, and suddenly it was boom, boom, boom!

  And everyone went nuts.

  Boom!

  I moved. I gyrated. I circled.

  Boom!

  My head was back. Arms above me.

  Boom!

  I was losing track of time.

  I was dancing.

  I was sweating.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The lights were flashing above, and I could see them through my closed eyelids.

  And then, I was back there again in Aspen.

  Boom!

  The door crashed open. Matt was running inside.

  “Bailey! Get down!”

  Boom!

  I jerked, my arms dropped back to my side.

  A body over mine, knocking me to the floor.

  Boom!

  Screaming. Shrieking. Someone wailing.

  “Bailey!”

  Hands were on me. I was being shaken.

  Boom!

  Tears were cascading down my face. I felt them. I tasted them.

  I was being shaken again, and my eyelids jerked open. Matt’s face was in front of mine, tight with panic, and he was yelling over the music. “Bailey!”

  His hands pulled me to his chest, he wrapped them gently around me.

  He crushed me to him after that, his hand smoothing down my hair and back. “Jesus.” He panted next to my ear, swaying back and forth, as if rocking a child to sleep in his arms. “Jesus.” He pulled back, but his arms only loosened a little bit. He inspected my face, taking me in from forehead to chin before shaking his own head. He moved back. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  I thumped him lightly on the chest, moving to his ear. “What did I do?”

  “You started trembling. Mid-dance. And you looked like you were having a seizure standing up.”

  Christ. I gulped.

  I yelled into his ear over the music, “Let’s go back to the booth.”

  He nodded, stepping back. His hand took mine, holding it tight, and he wound through until we got to the outskirts. Fitz took over, leading us past the other guard. Once upstairs, Matt went to the bar and got us both drinks before sitting next to me in the booth. He handed mine over. “Here. This might calm your nerves.”

  He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees. “What happened out there?”

  I didn’t want to talk about it, but … “I get flashbacks.”

  His face shuddered, his eyes suddenly looking hollow. He jerked backward, his hand tightening around his glass. “Maybe you should try counseling again?”