Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4) by Tmonique Stephens

Author:Tmonique Stephens [Stephens, Tmonique]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2016-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

EJ slowed his Harley one hundred feet from the lone building at the back of the industrial park. To the human eyes, the place seemed deserted. EJ wasn’t fooled. A protection spell shrouded the entire area like a shimmering lake, the same kind over the previous club he’d visited with Ridley. He twisted the throttle, revving the bike, and drove through the barrier.

Heavy bass throbbed like an artery, and judging by the muscle cars and Hogs filling the parking lot, the club catered to a rough clientele. His type of crowd. This was the address Quin texted him, the possible locale of another God club. Nothing possible about it. Frederick and another man were listed as owners of the building. Same guy who owned the club where EJ and Daniel had their little tête-à-tête.

Their soiree.

EJ imagined both of them decked out in apricot tulle dresses. Well, not him. Just that pussy Daniel. The list of reasons why the bastard needed to die kept growing.

The text from Quin came at the perfect time, though EJ hadn’t thought that way at the moment. On the ride over, he’d talked himself out of believing he’d nearly changed Ridley’s mind a few hours ago and got her to go with him. Now, he was grateful for the distraction. Breaking the shit out of something would definitely lessen the sting of rejection. Yeah, she was tempted by him, but not enough to sway her resolve. Not enough to alter her course. He needed more time. Or rather, he needed to give her time by breaking her curse.

He parked and assessed the bouncers guarding the door. Two regular guys. Had some weight on them. Looked like they could take and throw a punch. Their open coats indicated they were armed. They eyed him as he approached, sized him up. He could almost read their minds: Is he armed? Yep on that account. Should we disarm him? Not if they wanted to continue breathing.

They stepped out of the way and gave him a wide berth. Easiest infiltration ever.

The place had a good crowd, lots of gyrating bodies, scantily clad women, tatted up dudes in wife beaters and leathers. The perfume, sweat, musk, and weed gathered in a dense cloud of sensory overload.

Ah, club life!

He lived it. Breathed it. Wallowed in the decadence. A blond beauty sidled up to him, gave him a full body rub. She was soooo his type; voluptuous, nice store-bought rack, shellacked makeup, pouty lips, and vacant stare.

He should be hard right now and making lewd suggestions in her ear, swapping spittle, and leading her to a dark corner. All he could think about were a pair of amethyst eyes, platinum pixie hair, and a sweet body decked out in red.

“Not interested, sweetie.” He moved to the rear for a drink at the bar. “Tequila. Top shelf.”

He swore there must be some Tex-Mex in him the way he loved the drink, while Avery preferred vodka.

He shoved thoughts of his brother away and concentrated on the crowd.

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