Kings of Chaos (Dirty Broken Savages #1)(2)

I look like any other hot bitch here to get some, but the men I push past are wrong if they think that’s all I am. I’m not here to dance. The first guy who approached me isn’t the only one to think he can make a move, but I’m not breaking my focus, and I don’t stop walking. I keep shoving them away as I slip through the crowd like a ghost, finally coming out of the throng of bodies to a more open area where I find my mark.

He’s standing in a cocky pose, one hand on the waist of a blonde woman while he leers at her friends.

I can’t make out what he’s saying over the beat of the music, but he’s grinning like he thinks he’s smooth, and all the women look uncomfortable. The one he’s touching moves out of his grip, shaking her head and stepping back over to her friends. They close ranks around her but don’t leave just yet. Maybe they’re waiting for him to sweeten the pot or something. I don’t care either way.

I close some of the distance between us, stalking him like a predator.

Something in my direction catches his eye, and he looks over. For a second, his gaze slides past me, but then he locks on, the same way I’m locked onto him, and his eyes widen. Surprise flashes across his face, making it clear he wasn’t expecting to see me here. Then something shifty slides through his expression, as if he’s trying to think of a way to get away from me.

He steps closer to the women, like he thinks that’ll save him.

Now I’m even more pissed. My blood boils at the fucking nerve of this idiot, thinking he can get away with what he did to me. Thinking he can scam me with bad info and just go on with his life like it’s no big fucking deal.

I grab my gun from the thigh holster that’s barely hidden under my short dress and raise it enough that this fucker can see it, but not so high that it causes a panic in the club. Keeping it pointed at him, I close the remaining distance between us.

The women he was sliming on scatter, maybe assuming from my pissed off expression that I’m a jilted lover or something. I want to puke at the thought of that, but at least it gets them out of the way.

“Outside,” I tell him, pressing the gun against his side when I’m close enough.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to protest, or more likely lie again to try to save his own skin, but I jab him hard with the barrel of the gun, and that shuts him up. I watch him swallow hard, and he starts moving toward an exit at the back, not making any sudden moves.

I’m holding onto the slim hope that I can still get something out of this asshole, so I want him alive, but if he tries to run for it, I won’t hesitate to kill him right here and now. It would be complicated and messy, but that’s sort of been the theme of my life for the past several years.

Stepping outside is a relief after being inside the club. The air is cool and it’s quieter, for one thing, although the thump thump thump of the music is still audible through the heavy brick wall and the smooth metal exit door.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, I shove my mark deeper into the alley behind the building. It’s lit only by a streetlight on the corner near the alley’s entrance, and as long as no one comes down this way, there’ll be nothing to see.

He backs away from me like he wants to run, but he ends up with his back to the wall and nowhere to go. His eyes are wild for a second, darting this way and that, looking for an escape or someone to help him. He’s not going to find either.

I train the gun on him, aiming right for his fucking head.

“You sold me out,” I hiss, letting the rage I feel show plainly on my face. “Why? I needed info on how to get to Ivan St. James, and you fucking lied to me.”

“Of course I lied. He’s the head of the Five Blades Syndicate,” the man whines. “He’s highly protected. He’s one of the most powerful men in all of Detroit. It’s your fault if you thought you could just waltz in and get to him. What were you going to do, take down all of his body guards? Do you know how many layers of security that man has?”

I narrow my eyes and grip the gun harder. This dickhead is seriously pissing me off, and shooting him in the face is sounding better and better.

“That’s why I needed the goddamn information, you fucking rat. Info you claimed you had.”

I’m not a damn idiot. I know Ivan is one of the most protected men in Detroit. As head of a powerful mafia syndicate, he’s got the resources and manpower to keep himself safe. Even if I could get to him, he’d have people waiting to take me out, and I wouldn’t stand a chance. Which is why I didn’t just go barging into his territory to try to take his fucking head off. I tried to play it the smart way, reaching out through the criminal underground to try to see if anyone had anything that would help.

But the best I could find was this fucking lowlife. I don’t even remember this asshole’s name, but he promised me he had insider info on when Ivan would be alone. A way I could get to him while he was unprotected.

My lip curls in disgust. Liar.

“You think someone like you could take out Ivan St. James?” the guy adds, scoffing. He’s shaking a little, clearly worried about the gun I’ve got pointed at his goddamn head, but not worried enough that it keeps him from being a dick.

“Someone like me?” I fire back, taking a step closer. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He just gestures vaguely toward me with one hand, as if that’s supposed to explain it all.