GETTING READY FOR MARQUEE: THE SYNDICATE CLUB
Kim waited outside, leaning against his black SUV with his arms crossed, his gaze scanning the surroundings with calculated sharpness. His stance was one of casual alertness, though I could tell he’d already scoped out every possible exit. It was his habit to know each point of escape before we even stepped foot anywhere. I hadn’t mentioned our plan to hit the club tonight; I preferred to drop it on him at the last minute. A little spontaneity, I reasoned, could keep things interesting — or chaotic, which, with Ava, was often the same thing.
Inside, Ava let out a low whistle as I turned, striking a pose for her approval. Her eyebrows shot up, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Holy hell, Kylie. You’re like... s*x on legs. Or maybe death on leg
