I should have known what B was up to. After all, she has shown a talent for the taking the sublime and making it ridiculous. 1881 Columbia Boulevard isn’t an address that I’m familiar with, and why would it be, seeing as how it’s smack bang in the middle of a newly developed industrial area that didn’t exist the last time I was a free man.

After parking the BMW—and trying to kid myself that I didn’t visibly preen when a guy with a large camera hanging around his neck sent a look of envy in my direction—I head toward the red sportscar that I can see parked about one-hundred metres away from me on the opposite side of the street.

“B.” I open her car door, and greet her a curt nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She takes one last look at the mirrored compact in her hand, snapping it shut with a decisive jerk of her hand. A smile that wouldn’t look out of place on a shark is her only answer. B holds her hand out to me and lets me help her exit her car. She’s dressed in a long silver evening gown; done up to the nines with a face full of makeup, what I’m beginning to think of as her trademark red lips, and a cloud of perfume hanging around her.

“Shall we?” She looks at me with expectation in her eyes and her arm held out like I’m about to escort her somewhere.

I’m lost. The area we’re in looks industrial, yet both sides of the street are filled with parked cars and there are hundreds, if not a thousand, people dressed like B milling around. “Shall we what?”

“Oh, didn’t you realise?” The grin widens because she knows damn well that I don’t have a clue. She tucks her arm in mine and leads me up the road. “It’s the official after party for the opening of the new headquarters from Centrifuge. I wrangled an invite and decided that, after your little escapade tonight, you need to attend with me.”

She runs a critical eye down my outfit—sweat pants, a T-shirt, and old sneakers—and sniffs disapprovingly. “Well, I doubt you’re going to be let through the door looking like that.”

“Considering I wasn’t expecting any of this.” I gesture to our surroundings. “I’m not sure how I’m to blame for not meeting your standards.”

“It’s fine. I’m only joking,” B laughs, her mood flipping on a dime once more. “We’re not going inside for long anyhow. After all, I am a dead woman and you’re supposed to be in prison. If the wrong person were to see us, it could throw all kinds of spanners in the works.” She sounds positively gleeful at the thought.

B leads me across the road. Up ahead, I see a new building. It’s brightly lit and surrounded by a milling crowd of well-dressed people who are lining up to enter through the wide-open doors and a more casually dressed group who are yelling at them to stop so they can take their pictures.

It’s my idea of hell. A bunch of vultures demanding their pound of flesh.

“Our invitation will only get us through the side door.” With a swish of her skirt and a tug on my arm, B leads me past the crowd and through the parking lot until we’re at a small white side door. The door is closed. The light over it is not switched on. The darkness matches my dampening mood as I clock onto the fact that she’s just fucking with me.

“Okay, enough,” I snap. “I get it. Just let me go back to the house. I’ll stay put until you arrive tomorrow.”

The light over the door turns on. My eyes need a moment to adjust, and in that time, the door opens to reveal a large man. I recognise him—he’s the guy in the photos in the file B gave me this afternoon. The unnamed man who attended the Centrifuge meetings with Jax and his father, Amber’s father, Judge McManus, and Seb.

A tendril of jealousy wraps around my heart at the thought of Seb. Visions of Amber’s hand on his thigh when they visited me in prison assault me. While I’m occasionally worried that she might be happy to stay with Jax, I’m more concerned about her relationship with his younger brother. I’ve been locked away for two years and she’s never once tried to visit again.

Seb’s influence or something else?

“Did you bring it?” The man who opened the door questions B.

I catch a glimpse of her sliding something into his hand. A USB, maybe?

“I did, Harry.” My ears prick up when she says the familiar name.

Well, it’s this just great? I’m face to face with the infamous Harry that the Warden mentioned earlier tonight. It’s hard, but I try to contain my delight at learning something that may be of use in this game.

“Good,” he grunts. Motioning his head toward the entrance behind him, he beckons us inside. “Follow me. We’ve got to make this quick.”

We’re led into a small room.

Harry points at a black tuxedo. “For you. Get dressed.”

They leave the room together. I stare at the suit. Distaste sours my mouth, and for a moment, I contemplate planting my ass on the floor and refusing to get dressed, only to dismiss the idea with the realisation that Amber will be at this soiree. With a sigh of defeat, I strip off my sweatpants and start dressing in the borrowed attire.

Seeing Amber is worth any humiliation B can throw at me. Granted, when I see her she’ll be playing the dutiful wife at her husband’s side, and her erstwhile brother-in-law will more-than-likely be hovering over her like an attentive gnat, but the important thing is that she’ll be there. This will be the first time I see her in the flesh since I told her to fuck off.

A decision that I’ve regretted with every breath I’ve taken since then.

“You’re ready?” B sounds disappointed to find that I’ve complied with their directions. “Come along, then. The fun’s about to begin.”