Free In the Shadows (The Club, #10) by M.A. Grant Page A

back. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying off before wrapping it around his waist and emerging into the locker room. Preston waited for him, leaning against a locker.
    “Boss said you’re getting time off. How bad is it?” he asked, gesturing at Zeke’s head.
    “Nothing serious, but in a fecking awful place.”
    Preston gave a low whistle when Zeke turned his head to show him. “Damn. No way to hide that. Sorry about the little shits.”
    Zeke shrugged. “Part of the job, right?”
    Preston’s smile came with a nice edge. “Let’s just say they’re unlikely to cause any problems in the future.”
    A grin tugged at the corners of Zeke's mouth and he turned to get dressed. “Daddy not to happy?”
    Silence. Then he realized why. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Preston was staring at his back. Zeke straightened and turned back, crossing his arms over his chest and hoping his boss didn’t ask any questions. “Sir?”
    To his credit, Preston pulled his shit together faster than most people blindsided by the sight. “When there’s the possibility your membership will be revoked because Junior acted like an ass? Safe to say Daddy’s making some mea culpa to Mr. Mak. You’re heading home, right?”
    “Yeah. Don’t know what I’ll do with my spare time, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
    His boss nodded slowly. Too slowly. Something was running through his mind.
    “Anything else you wanted to say, sir?”
    “Rewatched the footage before I came down here.”
    No response was the safe response now.
    “Awfully good at your job, Irish.”
    “Yessir.”
    “Even wonder if it’s getting too easy?”
    Every damn day. “Your point, sir?”
    “Would hate to see you take a giant fucking step back.”
    He got the message. Preston didn’t spook easily, so he must have seen something on that video that bothered him. Worse, Zeke didn’t know what it could have been. He’d been too wrapped up in the moment, in the chilling calm that always came for him.
    There was little he could say other than, “Understood, sir.”
    Preston straightened. “Take care of yourself, Irish.”
    He left The Club on autopilot, slipping into his car and driving out of the private lot, mulling over the fight. He may not have reacted in front of Preston, but the blank space in his memory was frightening in a way he hadn't experienced since returning stateside. Bad things happened in those blank spaces, things he couldn't take back.
    It took him a minute to realize where he was. He'd crossed the street and sat idling in the back parking lot of Divine Twins. It made no sense. Vivian hadn't called him. A light coming from one of the windows didn't guarantee that it was her inside the building. Most importantly, he didn't have a right to stop by and check up on her, especially not at this god-awful hour of the morning.
    His body had a mind of its own though and he found himself staring at the door, stomach in weird knots. He knocked, silently ran through a series of foul thoughts at his stupidity, and tried to decide if he could run back to his car. Footsteps approaching the door prevented his escape. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and prayed that he didn't terrify some poor worker who found him hiding in the shadows.
    When the door didn't open, he rested his weight back on his heels and called out, "Viv? You in there?"
    That did the trick. Locks disengaged and a sliver of light appeared when the door opened a crack.
    "Zeke, what are you doing here?"
    God, just her voice was enough to send a cascade of lewd thoughts through his head. How was it possible to have this kind of a connection with a woman after such a short amount of time? And why the hell did the few days he'd been out of contact with her feel like a lifetime?
    "I'm sorry."
    The door opened a little more and he could finally make out a slice of her face and body thanks to the dim outside light. Her hair was pulled up, her sleeves pushed