Isla had no idea why she was doing this. Sure, ten grand was serious money. Money she probably would never have turned down. But that’s not the real reason she was stalking through the back halls of the club toward some guy who wanted to grind his boner against her ass.

She was doing it to prove a point to Idris. She got to call the shots.

No matter if she danced for him. If she kissed him. She was still the one in charge. No matter if she’d lost herself on that stage, in his eyes. His stare that hadn’t wavered.

No matter if she could barely feel her legs after a kiss like that. It had been like kissing fire. A beast. It was like there was something inside him hiding underneath the mask of a man. She couldn’t dwell on that thought though. It was over.

So, maybe she was doing it to prove a point to herself a little bit, too. She knew all too well what happened when you got lost in a man. How it blinded you to his faults. She was never going to let that happen again.

So, it was fine that she’d kissed - if you could even call it that - Idris. Just like it was fine that she was going to twerk on a perv. It was her life and she could do whatever she wanted with it.

She strode right up to the door of the private room and had the door open an inch before a meaty paw landed on the door over her shoulder, slammed it back closed.

She turned around to face Idris. His face was stone serious. Cold even.

“Back off, Idris, I’m going in,” she snapped.

“Fine. A private dance is ten minutes. I’ll be here.” He looked like he was going to say more but he just ended up ripping a hand through his short, dark hair. He left out a frustrated, chuffing breath and stepped to the side.

Isla blinked at him. She’d really expected him to fight her on this one. Well, then. Okay.

She yanked the door to the private room open and didn’t look back as she strutted her way in.

The door slammed shut and plunged the room into a dim, murky light. She’d glanced around in here before, but never having given a private dance, she wasn’t super familiar with it. The man sat on a red pleather couch in the corner, mostly under shadow.

Something skittered up Isla’s spine but she chalked it up to nerves. She thought it best to get the show on the road.

She put one foot in front of the other in an exaggerated walk, letting her hips sway from one side to the other. She could feel the man’s eyes on her like glue. She didn’t know why she’d been worried. In so many ways, men were so easy.

And then she was right there in front of him. She still couldn’t see his face but there was something familiar about his presence. Something that had that thing skittering up her spine again. Isla’s stomach flipped over once, twice. She was just a foot in front of him now and he was as still as a cat watching a mouse.

Isla cleared her throat, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. For ten grand, she didn’t want this guy to have any complaints.

“Hey, there, handsome,” she said.

The man was quiet for a second before he leaned into the light. “Hello, Isla.”

Her heart completely stopped. Her blood was ice in her veins. She was dead. She must be. This is what it must feel like to be dead.

It was Ivan. She knew he’d come for her one day. She knew he’d eventually find her. She just never thought she was going to die in a bra and g-string.

He grinned at her stricken expression, the fear that was kicking off her like a scent. “You gave a good little game, kitten. But now the chase is over.”

He slid his hand into his coat and brought out a curled up length of wire. Her blood was rushing again, no longer ice. It was so loud she could hear the ocean in her ears.

He uncurled the wire between his hands. “It would have kicked up a fuss to kill you when you were a teacher. People don’t like to hear about that. But a hooker? No one will care if a hooker dies. And I’ll be gone before they find you anyways.”

Isla braced herself, was two steps away from him before he was on her, a knee in her back and a hand around her neck. She’d thought he would use the garrote he’d brought. But it was his fingers she felt around her neck. Squeezing. She tried to scream but she had no breath.

She flung out with a hand. She needed to get Idris. She needed him to know something was wrong in here. But she couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t breathe. Her head swam with it.

Isla reached to her own ear, ripped her earring out of her ear and flung it toward the door. She watched as it slid across the floor and out under the crack of the door. And then a dark, heavy cloud descended over her and her cheek hit the floor.

And then there was air, gorgeous and painful and life all slicing down her throat. And then her eyes were flinging open and she was rolling over, avoiding a heavy boot that slammed onto the floor next to her.

She looked up to see Idris flinging Ivan through the air like a rag doll, slamming him against the wall. And then Idris was in the air too, pouncing like a rabid animal. And Isla knew it must just be the lack of air to her brain, but she could have sworn, that for just a moment, Idris was a prism of colors. A rainbow of light and shadow and refraction as he flung through the air, smashed Ivan’s face into an instant, bloody mess.

Isla crawled up onto her hands and knees. She was gasping now. But breathing. She was breathing.

“Idris!” she gasped.

He whipped around. And there was something about his eyes. For a moment they were made of glass, inhuman. They were almost like the eyes of something reptilian, something royal, something feral.

“There will be more.” She choked out the words. There was no way to explain it all now. But he needed to know that Ivan wasn’t working alone. He never worked alone. “More men.”

And at that exact second, a man’s shadow darkened the door. And another man behind him. And they held two black, skinny guns in their hands. Pointed directly at her.

She stared into the twin barrels as if they were the two eyes of one beast. But then, her view was blocked, by Idris. He was charging the men. Isla screamed. For him to stop? In fear? She didn’t know.

She was up on her feet, sprinting in her heels, right behind Idris. He’d made quick work of the first man, slamming his head against the opposite wall and kicking the gun all the way down the hall.

The second man he stiff-armed to the side and was rising to finish him when Isla sprang into the air like a cat. She landed on the man, scratching and clawing his face. She’d known him at one point. In her other life. Roy, his name was. She didn’t give a fuck anymore. Because Roy had a gun in his hand.

And then Idris had Roy’s gun, disabled and in pieces. Isla felt herself lifted into the air and flung over Idris’s shoulder as if she weighed nothing. She watched as the floor of the back hallways rushed past in a blur. The cold night air snapped at her almost naked skin as the steel backdoor of the club slammed shut behind him.

He ripped open the door of his truck and slid in, tossing her to the side and starting the truck all in one go.

He was ripping out of the parking lot and speeding into the night not a minute and a half after he’d crashed into the room. Isla’s breath came in huge, sobbing gasps. The thing she’d been terrified of for three years had just happened to her. And now she was speeding away from it in the night. She was alive. And trembling. Her body was sick with the adrenaline. Everything alternating between blurry and painfully clear.

“Are you alright?” he barked, his eyes alternating between deep black and blazingly bright as the street lamps raced past them.

Isla tenderly swallowed, her fingers tracing her neck the same way Ivan’s had just seconds before. She was bruised and sore, but it didn’t feel permanent.
“Yes,” she whispered, her voice a husk. “Where are you taking me?”

He glanced at her across the truck, took her in, naked and shaking and loose. “Buckle up. And here.” He reached into the backseat and pulled out a t-shirt, blue and worn, for her to wear. It was big enough to be a dress on her. He glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Idris, where?” she insisted as her voice grew in anxiety. She poked her head through the t-shirt and buckled up. She was grateful for his help, but she could not just be racing through the night in the truck of a man she barely knew. She needed some answers fast before she freaked the fuck out.

“That depends,” he answered. “Could they be following us?”

She swallowed. “I don’t think so. Although, they’ll definitely know where I live, if they found me at the club.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “In that case, we’re going to my mother’s house.”

“What?” she blinked at him, completely nonplussed. “Why?”

He checked the rear view mirror again before taking a sharp turn into an apartment complex.

“Because if we’re getting the fuck out of dodge then I’m taking my mother with us.”

Idris drove around the back of the building and parked before Isla’s brain started working again.

“Idris. What are you talking about? I - I can’t think.”

He turned off the car and then twisted in his seat to look at her. His eyes pinned her in place. “Isla, who were those men?”

She took a deep breath. Might as well jump in. No need to be shy at this point. She’d already stripped for him, made out with him, and then watched him beat the ever-loving shit out of her assailant. “Well, the one strangling me was my ex-boyfriend. Ivan Ivanovich.”

Idris’s eyes narrowed so much that Isla could barely see them in the dark.

“And the other two?”

“His flunkies. Two strongmen he used to keep around for protection.” Isla waved a hand through the air. “Ivan was sort of a gangster, back in New York. Where I used to live. I didn’t think he was into serious shit though. I just thought he mostly sold weed. I don’t know.” She looked out the window at the dark apartment building. It looked so peaceful in there. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. “Maybe I did know. And I looked the other way. But I was in love. Everything seemed to be so much less important than that.”

“Why the fuck did he just try to kill you?” Idris’s voice was low. So low that she could feel the rumble of it in her chest. She could feel it all the way down to her toes.

Isla turned, made herself look him full in the face. “Because I witnessed him murder somebody. About three years ago.”

“And you ran,” he guessed.

Isla nodded. “I ran. Left everything behind. Didn’t have any family left, so no big loss there. But I left a few friends. My job. My life.”

“Had you heard from him before tonight?”

“No,” Isla shook her head. “I never stayed in any place long enough for him to find me, I don’t think. But the money at City Lights was just so good. And it’s east of Jesus nowhere. I didn’t think…”

She trailed off as her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to cry. She’d cried enough over that piece of shit. But her throat hurt, her body felt wrung out, and all she wanted was a cup of tea and a soft bed.

“I’ll bet they started that fight to keep the other guards occupied,” Idris growled. And then he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Look. We’re gonna go up there, get my mom, convince her to come with us and then we’ll just drive. We’ll find someplace far away from here where we can regroup and think about what to do next.”

He had one hand on the door handle before Isla gripped him by the shoulder. “Why?” Her voice was intense, her emotions strung tight. She needed answers and she needed them now.

He looked at her like she had brain damage. “Because those dickheads are chasing us and we gotta get someplace where we can keep you safe.”

“No, Idris,” she said, her voice just about as calm as she could make it. “They’re chasing me. Not us.”

She was prepared for more roughness. For callousness or maybe urgency. The entire situation was laced with it. She wasn’t prepared for the softness that hit the edges of her face, like the lip of a lake over sand.

Suddenly, they were standing too close again. She wasn’t sure if she’d stepped closer or if he had, but all she knew was that she could feel the heat from his chest as if she were standing in front of a fireplace. A shiver ran through her; she wasn’t sure if it was from standing in the freezing air in just a t-shirt, or if it was his nearness.

A truck on the highway over the mountain blew a horn and had Idris looking around. “Let’s get inside.”

He threw an arm around her shoulder and walked her inside the apartment building. He was hurrying up the apartment stairs when she grabbed his arm again, the way she had in the car. He turned.

“What’s your mother’s name?”

He grinned. “Felice. You’re gonna love her.”