Chapter 21

Faye

Waz watches me like he can’t figure out if he should call me by my real name or try to play this in his favor. The moment I spotted Wheeler Finch strolling in here, I knew I’d have to think on my feet. I feel like I’ve been thrown into the deep end of something that has far wider reach than I had anticipated. As prepared as I was for tonight, I didn’t expect to see Lincoln walking toward me, fully dressed in a black tux. And I was even less prepared for the way my body responded instantly. He barely blinked during the introductions, looking just as shocked to see me. His eyes only left Blackstone’s hands on me when I was introduced as “my Rosie Gold.”

Fuck, this just got far messier. I grip onto my clutch handbag and lean into Blackstone, knowing now’s the best time to make my next move. “I’m going to use the ladies’ and then I’ll get myself a drink. Would you like anything?”

“Rosie,” he exhales, and then leans into me, his nose running along my neck. I hate hearing my stage name out of this man’s mouth. Somehow, he makes it sound like a threat. I want only one person close to me like this, craving me in this way, and he hasn’t turned to look at me since he moved to the bar. Chills and disgust run down my back, and it takes effort not to pull away from Blackstone’s touch. “Go ahead, before the auction begins.”

He taps my ass, but instead of flinching or telling him to go fuck himself, I smile and walk calmly toward the long hallway that leads to a bathroom. It also happens to be the same hallway that leads to the master suite and office. If I’m lucky, I have ten, maybe fifteen, minutes at most before he starts wondering where I went. The room is mostly men in tuxes, so the woman in the short pink sequin dress will be noticeably missing if anyone’s looking.

There’s no door to the office, since the architecture of this place has open archways instead of closed doors. I look over my shoulder and make sure security isn’t walking past this corridor before I move inside, pulse pounding in my ears. Having already been monitoring Blackstone’s digital footprint, I’m hoping to find something, anything else that might tell me more than just who of his associates are in attendance. The disorganized desk has an array of handwritten to-do lists that are barely legible. I scan the legal pads without disrupting the way the papers are laid out. But there’s nothing more than details I’ve already noticed from the shipment documents. Huffing to myself, I pull out my hidden knife and try opening the top locked drawer, but it doesn’t budge. As I put my knife down, that’s when I notice a small sticky note with the word: MONTANA scribbled across it.

“Have you seen anyone come down this hallway?” I hear in the distance.

Shit, shit, shit . I move to the center of the room and type away on my phone. I don’t have time to get out of here, so I’ll have to sell the fact that I’ve wandered in here by accident.

“Ah, there you are, Rosie,” Blackstone draws out from the archway.

I hold my hand over my chest and smile as I turn. “Oh my goodness, you scared me.”

He strides toward me with the kind of look in his eyes that I’ve tried hard to avoid seeing—the satisfaction of being alone with something he desires.

“Who are you texting?” he asks, just as his phone buzzes in his pocket. And when he pulls it out, he gives me a nausea-inducing Cheshire Cat smile. I texted him:

ROSIE GOLD

Come and find me . . .

“Rosie, Rosie,” he taunts. “You are a naughty girl. I have a room filled with very important people and you want me to play with you, is that it?”

Fuck . I don’t know how I’m getting out of this.

I play the part and offer a coy smile. “I know your auction is just about to start, but I was feeling”—I let out a sigh—“like it might be fun to play.” Giving him a teasing look I’ve mastered, I move to step around him, but he steps in front of me, stopping me.

He draws his finger up my arm as he says, “Did you see all of those men salivating over you out there? Does that turn you on?”

Normally, yes. When I’m on stage and in control. But not while I’m doing this job. Not right now.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, Rosie?” he says as his hand moves to my waist.

I swallow and nod as his fingers skate up my arm, along my shoulder, and across my collarbone. My skin crawls everywhere he touches, and I’m mentally preparing myself to either kiss or punch this man if it comes down to it.

“Sir?” one of the security guards interrupts from the doorway.

“Not now,” Blackstone calls back as he stares blatantly at my cleavage. Gross.

When I glance at the security guard and look at his perfectly coiffed hair and mutton chops, I pause. It’s the same tight-faced scowl that greeted me at the Fiasco police station the morning I bailed out Maggie. A sense of relief watches over me. I didn’t think he was FBI.

The “security guard” removes a toothpick from his mouth when he says, “Sir, the auction room is filling up, and I was told your assistance was needed for a misunderstanding on a silent bid.”

Blackstone looks at me and tips up my chin. “You stay right here. I’d like to play before the night really begins.”

I smile and nod, trying to keep my body from recoiling at the promise.

He turns and brushes past the undercover security officer. “Let’s go, then. Where exactly am I being requested?”

The security guard glances at me again, without saying anything more, before he follows Blackstone down the hall. It looks like Cortez had my back, after all. But I have no interest in waiting for him to return. I need to get out of here. I’ll deal with the fallout of this decision later.

I didn’t find anything in that office except an almost sexual assault. I’m done. Whatever Blackstone is curating for his clients and these private auctions isn’t what the FBI wants. He’s not the target, one of his guests is. They’re going to use him as a source. Or as a pawn, at the very least, to hit someone more important.

As I turn back down the hall for the double doors that lead to what looks like a terrace, I try to guess how far the valet parking is from here. I don’t register the click of a zippo lighter closing and clipped notes of a low whistle, until the eerie tune of it catches my attention, and my head whips in that direction.

“You went in an interesting direction, girlie. Burlesque?”

I stop short at the unexpected voice. Its southern drawl is so similar to one that had tricked my mother into believing he’d loved her. Yet the timbre of Waz King’s voice is slightly more grating on my nerves than his brother Tullis’s was.

Straightening my shoulders back, I ignore the question and move along the walkway, heading directly to the front of the estate, where the black car service that brought me here awaits. He follows me in a slow shuffle that’s as irritating as his sly smile.

“Where ya goin’? Thought you were one of the goodies up for auction tonight.”

I shudder at the thought.

“Just need some fresh air,” I say as a sweep of cold air pricks at my skin and flutters my already short dress even higher. I hold it down with one hand, the other already full with my small bag and phone. There’s no time to stop and get my coat. In the front pocket, there’s a small knife disguised as a house key. And with a jolt, I realize my karambit is still on Blackstone’s desk. Fuck . I feel around the side of my glittered clutch. In its hidden pocket is a palm-sized stun-gun with just enough charge. I let out a small breath of relief. It won’t do much, but it’ll buy me some time to run if I need it.

“Faye, Faye, Faye,” he tsks, unrelenting. “This is a very...interesting place to find you.” Walking alongside me, he peers behind me to look at my ass.

A shiver of disgust runs through me when I stop mid-step, and with as much attitude as I can muster, tell him, “I’m simply existing here, Waz. Just like you.”

But he ignores my words and drags his eyes down my front. “Heard you were back in town. Maggie mentioned you were dancing at Midnight Proof. I’d wanted to see it for myself, but Hadley doesn’t like her father’s associates near her place of business. Might need to find a way to sneak in and catch a show...”

“I doubt my sister would be talking about me at all, never mind telling you details about what I’m doing back in Fiasco.”

He hums to himself, like he’s got a secret he’s just dying to share. “There’s plenty you don’t know about your sister. Starting with the fact that she owes me a bit of money...among other things. And I’m expecting her to deliver.”

When I left, Waz had been training horses. It was Tullis who had shifted focus from training to overseeing the entire team and logistics for Finch & Kings. They’d apparently dropped the ‘s’ once Tullis was out of the picture. But after hearing this, confirming that he speaks with my sister and she has been working with him, I have a gut-wrenching feeling I’m talking to the person who beat her up before she was arrested. Suppressing a shiver, I clear my throat. “You should take that up with her, then. Not me.”

“Already have. Made sure she heard me loud and clear.”

Motherfucker.

He steps closer, quick to keep me from moving anywhere but back. My heel wobbles on the grass. The ground is hard and frozen this time of year. “You've been gone for a while, Faye. I don’t think you recognize how things work around here now.” I try to right myself, glancing to the left and right to find my best route to escape.

I’d rather not cause a scene out here right now, but it’s polarizing knowing that it’s just the two of us alone. Or so I thought.

A blur of a tall body dressed in black behind Waz snags my attention. The next few seconds happen quickly as hands wrap around Waz’s shoulders and throw him off balance. Lincoln . It’s just long enough that with two broad steps and a half-cocked arm, the charming Foxx brother thrusts two quick jabs to Waz’s nose before the asshole can even find his footing. The crack of cartilage on the second punch, coupled with the spray of blood, should make Waz go down, but cockroaches are stronger than they appear.

More than twenty feet from me, Waz’s blood-soaked smile is laced with calculating interest as he stands at his full height. “I should have known you’d be in bed with a Foxx. Didn’t take Shelby much time to cozy up to them either.”

I glance at Lincoln, not understanding the reference.

Lincoln’s chest heaves as his fist remains clenched and twitching at his side.

Waz laughs and spits, “Better watch out with this one, Lincoln. She has a habit of murderin’ men.”

My stomach sinks. It’s nothing that Lincoln probably hasn’t already thought about, but hearing it out loud makes my throat dry and fingers twitch along the pepper spray that I’m clenching in my hand.

Lincoln doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “I know exactly who she is. And I think you might be underestimating her because, if I had to guess, she’s got at least one weapon in each hand, ready to call this exactly what it is.” He looks over his shoulder at me with a wink and says, “Self-defense.”

Waz glares at me, ignoring Lincoln. “Faye, we should have another talk. We’ll include Maggie next time. You Calloway women were always such a surprise.” He spits out more blood so it hits right in front of Lincoln’s foot. “Foxx, those little girls of yours are growing up real fast now?—”

I step in front of the Lincoln and pull out the pepper spray, flip off the safety feature, and let it rain, nailing Waz square in the face. I box Lincoln out the best I can, and he grabs my hips, trying to move us away from the remnants of the blinding spray.

“That’s for laying a hand on my sister,” I grit out.

Waz cries out a series of “fucks” while tripping over his own feet as he moves backwards and away. His ass hits the pavement with a thud. “You’re so fucking dead, girlie.”

I huff a laugh, walking closer to him as he tries to scoot away from me. “You better watch who you threaten, Waz. Like you said, I have a habit of murderin’ men.”

Being blindsided by tonight’s attendees and the fact that he hurt Maggie was more than enough to be the last straw for me. But hearing him even mention Lincoln’s girls, I snapped. My hands shake with adrenaline as I cover my nose and mouth, trying to keep from inhaling any of what I just sprayed.

“Faye,” Lincoln says in his deep voice. “I said let’s go.” His hand grabs a hold of mine and interlocks our fingers, pulling me down the alleyway, away from the ugliness.

He laughs out, “That was stupidly badass, Peach.”

I let out an exasperated sigh. With my adrenaline pumping, I focus back on what Waz said, that I still didn’t understand: Didn’t take Shelby much time to cozy up to them either. “What did he mean? About my mom?”

Lincoln’s brow furrows as we walk. When he turns his head to meet my attention, it registers just as the words leave his lips. “Shelby and Griz were together. It was short—only maybe a few months before she—” He clears his throat. Before she passed . “Griz fell hard for Shelby.” His voice changes and looks back as we walk. “You didn’t know?”

I think through this, concentrating on the new information. My mom and Griz Foxx? It clicks why Maggie and Griz had that exchange—the familiarity and closeness I witnessed. He spent time with my mom, meaning so did she. Lincoln takes over for the valet, opening the passenger door of a souped-up Jeep, and ushers me inside. I zone out and stare at the road ahead as he floors the gas pedal. I try to take a deep breath, but I can’t seem to do it. I missed so much.

After a few minutes, he breaks the silence. “We teased Griz about finding new things to do outside of the distillery. And then one day, Shelby showed up at family dinner. Maggie came with her a few times, too. And Griz...” He shifts gears and the Jeep punches forward. “They were happy. It was nice to see him like that again. It’d been so long since we lost my nana.” He swallows, and without me saying a word, he keeps talking. “Shelby was the one who got Griz to find more things—got him to go to her book clubs. And bake sales. She was quiet at first, didn’t share too much. But they both laughed. Sometimes just a look between the two of them and they’d start cracking up. It would always make Lark and Lily laugh too. I think you would have liked seeing her with him.”

My eyes water at the idea of her being happy. I hadn’t thought she’d found that. I pictured her the way I left her—broken and sad at what she had to do that night.

“They weren’t what anyone expected, but when you saw them together, there was no question that the oldest bourbon boy fell for the rodeo cowgirl.”

I bat away the tear that falls as I stare out into the blurred darkness of trees and sky. What I wouldn’t have given to see her with someone who made her feel that way.

“It’s why the rodeo comes to town. They do their end of season pro-am event here in Fiasco. Foxx Bourbon sponsors the event, and the rest of the money gets donated to local charities. Griz told her it was his gift to her—his rodeo princess.”

I suck in a breath. This isn’t what I was expecting to learn when coming home. I look up, trying to keep the rest of my tears from trailing down my cheeks. Thank goodness for the dark interior of the car. It’s not lost on me that he’s talking to me about this so openly, being so kind. Answering my question when I know he has plenty of his own.

“This town has a lot to say about people who fall in love with a Foxx. It’s considered a tragedy what happened with my nana. Then my parents were killed a handful of years before that. Then it all went to shit. First Fiona, then Olivia, and then Shelby—” he cuts himself off, and my chest tightens as I look his way. “People find it easier to assign blame for something, so Fiasco named our ‘something’ the Foxx curse.” He lets out a sarcastic laugh before he mumbles, “Fucking feels like it some days.”

“You don’t honestly believe that?” I tilt my head, waiting for a response that doesn’t come as he takes the next turn sharp and punches the gas down the road. He glances at me briefly as I study his profile.

“I could use a drink. How ’bout you?”

“A drink would be good,” I say as my body settles into the leather seat. “Have anything other than bourbon?”

The right side of his mouth kicks up and that charming dimple divots low on his cheek, just barely noticeable beneath his facial scruff. “I know you didn’t just say that to me.”