Walking a Thin Line

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The bass thumped through Jo’s chest like a second heartbeat, the electric energy of the club making her head buzz even before her first drink. Neon lights bathed the room in purples and blues, flickering across the sea of dancing bodies. Jo gripped the stem of her martini glass, letting the music course through her as she swayed to the beat.

“This is insane, Chloe!” Jo leaned in close to her best friend, shouting over the pulsing music.

“Right?!” Chloe spun around, her short, sequined dress catching the light like a disco ball. “I told you my brother would hook us up! VIP, baby!”

Jo couldn’t help but grin. Chloe’s brother always came through. Tonight, for Chloe’s birthday, he’d outdone himself—an uncarded entrance to Manhattan’s hottest club and a private VIP section overlooking the dance floor. They weren’t old enough to be here, but nobody seemed to care.

“Happy birthday, b***h!” Jo clinked her glass against Chloe’s and downed the rest of her drink, the burn of vodka tempered by the sweet tang of cranberry.

The night blurred into a swirl of music and laughter. Jo let herself go, her worries melting under the flashing lights and thundering bass. She and Chloe danced like no one was watching, except people were watching—men in sleek suits and polished shoes, leaning against the VIP railing with drinks in hand.

One man in particular caught Jo’s attention. He was huge, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders straining against a black button-up. His presence was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t dancing or drinking—just standing near the edge of the dance floor, his dark eyes scanning the crowd.

Jo leaned toward Chloe. “Hey, uh… you notice that guy over there?” She nodded discreetly toward the man.

Chloe glanced over her shoulder and laughed. “Oh, him? That’s Vinnie. He works for my brother. He’s just keepin’ an eye on us.”

“An eye on us? For what?”

“Relax, Jo. It’s just how my brother is. He doesn’t like me going out without someone watchin’ my back.” Chloe rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink.

Jo raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She knew Chloe’s brother ran with a rough crowd—guys with expensive cars, slick suits, and whispered reputations. She didn’t ask questions, and Chloe never offered answers.

But still… a bodyguard?

Jo shook it off. The music was too good, and the night was too perfect to overthink. She let herself sink back into the rhythm, her body moving with the beat as Chloe whooped and twirled beside her.

Hours blurred into minutes, and Jo lost track of how much she’d had to drink. She was tipsy, her head pleasantly fuzzy, when the first gunshot shattered the night.

POP!

Jo froze, her blood turning to ice. For a split second, the club went still, like the entire room was holding its breath. Then chaos erupted.

People screamed, shoving past each other in a desperate rush for the exits. Glass shattered, tables flipped, and bodies slammed into Jo as she struggled to stay upright.

“Chloe!” she shouted, grabbing her friend’s arm.

Chloe’s face was pale, her wide eyes glossy with fear. “What the hell is happening?!”

“I don’t know! Get down!” Jo yanked her to the floor as another gunshot rang out, this one closer.

They crouched beneath the table, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The stampede of people didn’t stop. Someone’s heel slammed into Jo’s back, and she cried out, clutching her ribs. Beside her, Chloe whimpered, her hand clutching her ankle.

“Jo, I think—s**t, I think I twisted it—”

Before Jo could respond, the table above them was ripped away.

“Get up. Now.”

Jo looked up to see the huge man from earlier, his face grim and set.

“Move!” he barked, yanking them to their feet.

Chloe stumbled, her ankle giving out beneath her, but the man caught her with ease, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“Wait—where are you taking us?” Jo stammered as he grabbed her wrist and started dragging her through the chaos.

“Out,” he grunted. “Unless you’d rather stick around and get trampled.”

Jo didn’t argue. The man plowed through the crowd, his massive frame clearing a path. Jo clung to his arm, struggling to keep up as her heels slipped on the sticky floor.

Finally, they burst through the side exit into the cold night air. A black SUV idled at the curb, its tinted windows glowing faintly from the streetlights. The man shoved the door open and all but threw them inside.

“Vinnie, what the hell is going on?” Chloe’s voice was shaky as she leaned against Jo, clutching her swollen ankle.

“Not now.”

Jo’s breath hitched as she took in the men sitting in the car. Chloe’s brother was there, his face a mask of stone. Beside him sat two other men, both dressed in black, their sharp features unreadable.

And then she saw him.

He sat in the far corner, one arm draped lazily over the back of the seat, his legs spread like he owned the space. His suit was charcoal gray, perfectly tailored to his broad frame. Dark, messy hair framed a face so sharp and striking it made Jo’s breath catch.

His eyes met hers—cold, calculating, and devastatingly intense.

“Rafe,” Vinnie said, his tone tight. “They’re clear.”

Rafe didn’t speak. He just kept his eyes on Jo, his gaze trailing over her like he was sizing her up.

Jo’s heart pounded so hard it felt like it might c***k a rib. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, but the alcohol fogging her brain turned everything hazy, like she was moving underwater. Her head throbbed, her chest tightened, and her limbs trembled uncontrollably as the weight of what had just happened began to settle over her.

He was gorgeous, dangerous, and utterly captivating.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she couldn’t look away.

“Who’s the girl?” Rafe’s voice was smooth, low, and unhurried, yet laced with an edge that sent a shiver down Jo’s spine.

Vinnie adjusted his tie, as if the tension in the car wasn’t suffocating. “Chloe’s friend,” he replied tersely.

Rafe’s dark eyes flicked over Jo, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. But his gaze was anything but soft—it pinned her like a butterfly under glass, unrelenting and assessing.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Jo opened her mouth to answer, but her throat was dry, her words catching in the lump of panic rising there. She swallowed hard, her tongue feeling clumsy and thick.

“Jo,” she finally managed, her voice small and shaky.

The smirk deepened, a flicker of something sharp and unreadable passing through his eyes—amusement? Interest? Whatever it was, it made Jo’s skin prickle with both fear and something she didn’t want to name.

“Well, Jo,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbow resting on his knee, “welcome to my world.”

His words sent a ripple of unease through her. The way he said it, like this wasn’t just a passing moment but something significant—something permanent—made her stomach twist.

The SUV lurched forward, the engine purring smoothly as they pulled away from the club. Jo clung to Chloe’s limp form, her friend’s head resting on her shoulder.

“Chloe,” Jo whispered, brushing her fingers against Chloe’s damp cheek. “Hey, wake up.”

Chloe groaned, her face scrunching in pain. “I… I can’t feel my ankle,” she whimpered, her voice slurring.

“s**t,” Jo muttered, looking up at the men in the car. “She needs a hospital. Now.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked to her, cool and unreadable. “Relax, sweetheart. We’re already on the way.”

Jo bristled. “Relax? Relax? People were shooting at us back there! My best friend is hurt, and I don’t even know who the hell you are!”

The tension in the car thickened. The two men sitting across from her exchanged glances but said nothing, their faces carefully blank.

“You don’t need to know who I am,” Rafe said finally, his tone calm but firm, like he was speaking to a child. “What you need to do is keep your head down and follow instructions.”

Jo glared at him, her anger bubbling up despite the fear knotting her stomach. “Follow instructions? Are you kidding me? She’s bleeding!”

“Stop talkin’ and listen,” Vinnie cut in, his voice gruff. “The hospital staff’s gonna ask questions. You gotta keep it simple. You tell ‘em you were in a car accident, that’s it. No club, no gunshots, no nothin’.”

“What?” Jo blinked, her heart racing again. “Why? Why can’t we just tell them the truth?”

“Because the truth ain’t gonna help anybody,” Vinnie snapped. “You want cops askin’ questions? You want your name in a fuckin’ report? No, you don’t.”

Jo looked down at Chloe, her friend’s face pale and clammy, and felt her chest tighten. “But—”

Rafe leaned forward, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Listen carefully, Jo,” he said, his voice low and measured. “If you don’t want this night to get a whole lot worse for you and your friend, you’ll do exactly as Vinnie says. Understand?”

Jo’s lips parted, but no sound came out. She nodded mutely, her throat tightening as tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

“That’s better,” Rafe said, leaning back into his seat.

The rest of the ride was a blur. Jo clung to Chloe, her mind racing in a thousand directions. The adrenaline that had kept her upright was fading fast, leaving behind a sickening exhaustion. Her hands trembled as she brushed Chloe’s hair back from her face, trying to keep her calm even though she was falling apart inside.

When the SUV finally pulled up to the hospital, Vinnie turned to her again. “Remember—car accident. No details. You just want your friend taken care of and nothin’ else. Got it?”

Jo nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Got it.”

Rafe’s gaze followed her as she climbed out of the car, her knees nearly buckling as her heels hit the pavement. “You’ll see me again, Jo,” he said, his voice lingering in her ears as the door slammed shut.

And as she watched the SUV pull away into the dark, Jo couldn’t shake the feeling that he was right.