To her right, Stacy prepared a VIP tray. Top shelf bottles of Wild Turkey, Stoli, Johnnie Walker, and Gran Patron. Two pitchers of beer, a bucket of ice and glasses. No juice. The Nicolis’s usual order.
“Let me help you?” Emeline picked up the pitchers and followed Stacy around the edge of the dance floor, between tables, to the stairs. Up they went to the VIP section.
Three large male bodies came into view as they made their way around the other tables. Two she could clearly see, the other remained hidden in shadows. Stacy set down her tray. She flirted while arranging the bottles and glasses. Who wouldn’t flirt with three gorgeous men? Quin with the long dark hair and goatee had some serious Latin sex appeal and EJ with the reddish buzz cut and dimples that would charm a Nun.
Stacy moved out of the way for Emeline to place the beers. She leaned forward and stopped. The pitchers trembled in her hand. Avery concentrated on the large glass of vodka in his hand. But a blonde with more plastic than American Express had cards leaned against his side. He stalked her, but was attracted to that? Men!
Get over it, Eme.
She placed the pitchers in the center of the table and backed away, allowing Stacy to pour. Until the hospital, they’d had one physical encounter. The night of the brawl, a chair flew in her direction. He pushed her out of the way and the chair had cracked over his back. He shook it off and kept fighting. Now was her chance to thank him for that and the other day at the hospital. Get this farce started.
So why had her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth? She wasn’t good at seduction, didn’t chase men, didn’t have to.
Maybe if he’d look up, she’d catch his eye and say thank you, but he wouldn’t glance her way. Plastic girl had his complete attention. Stacy finished pouring and he still sat, shrouded in darkness, a looming mountain. Her headset squawked. The girls were drowning in customers at the bar.
Back to work.
She dodged the crowd of grinding bodies, but another face caught her attention. Her heart squeezed and a chill ran down her spine. She squinted, trying to get a better look; however, the man had vanished.
“Emeline? What’s wrong?” Zachary pulled her off the dance floor.
“I-I think I saw Lincoln. Maybe I’m wrong. I can’t find him now.”
“Lincoln, I thought he was in prison?” Zachary searched the crowd.
“That was his last destination,” she said. Cousin to a diplomat, what he lacked in immunity he made up with connections and money. Stacy called her through the headset. Emeline shook off her uncertainty. “The girls need me.”
Back behind the bar, slinging drinks, Emeline concentrated on staying afloat. She cut up a lime and tossed it and mint into a glass. Then used a muddler to press the juices out of both, added sugar, ice, carbonated water, and rum. She finished everything with a twist of lime perched on the rim of the glass. In quick succession, she completed four more mojitos and two margaritas.
That worked for a while until Lincoln slid onto a barstool. He smiled at Stacy as she took his drink order and then turned his gaze on Emeline.
He’d changed in the six months since she’d last seen him. The regular guy with the regular build had filled out. Apparently, there was more to jail than just three hots and a cot. The camel cashmere coat couldn’t hide the bulge of his bicep as he brought his beer to his lips. He winked, saluted her with his drink, and took a sip.
“How did you get out?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Bail.”
Conspiracy to traffic in stolen merchandise and credit card fraud. His bail must’ve been huge. His family could afford it. Her hands balled into fists. Bail didn’t mean he was free, just meant delayed justice. “I’m surprised you are not on a plane out of the country.”
He shrugged. “They confiscated my passport. Won’t stop me when I’m ready to leave.”
In jail or on the other side of the world, she’d take either. “And when will that be?”
“As soon as I take care of you.” He reached inside his coat pocket.
Emeline grabbed a knife.
***
Avery tossed back another vodka but still couldn’t get a buzz. The hole inside him wouldn’t fill. It had escalated over the past few hours, putting him dangerously back on the edge. Ever since he went down to his knees at RockGate, he’d been off his game. Tonight, at the factory proved it. The irrational rage consumed and confused him. And the claws. He glanced at his hand and flexed his fingers. He wanted to rip his shirt off and have a look at his back.
Everyone thought he’d tatted his back for his eighteenth birthday. The truth: the damn thing appeared as a dark spot on his shoulder and spread.
He never looked at it. Chose to believe it was a tattoo rather than the proof of his true nature or the harbinger of something more evil than the quimaera. Something he’d never been able to excise no matter how hard he tried. And he did try. Only his concentrated detachment honed from decades of self-control kept the violent impulse at bay.
For a multitude of reasons, he shouldn’t have come here tonight, but staying at the mansion with Roman and his glowing eyes disturbed him. Made him want to leap across the distance separating them. Roman’s perusal shredded his skin, flayed him like meat.
What an eff’d up thought. He lit a Cubano and inhaled slowly. His empty glass mocked him. Where the hell was the bar girl? These little shots weren’t touching the area that needed numbing.
He looked down from their ringside seats high above the churning pit of bodies for the tie-dyed neon cherry redhead who served them. Not the person he really wanted to see. Her name teased his brain and in the flashing lights, he glimpsed the fine features of Emeline. He knew she’d be here. Memorized her schedule, hoped it hadn’t changed. That’s why he came, for another chance meeting. Not likely when he’d ingrained her work schedule into his brain.
A laugh competed with the liquor tumbling down his throat.
“What?” EJ stood next to him, studying the crowd.
Avery hadn’t realized he’d left his chair to stand at the rail. His hand clutched the iron railing as he sensed his brother’s concern.
“What do you see?” EJ asked.
Nothing he wanted to share.
“You…okay?” EJ mumbled close to Avery’s ear. He needn’t have whispered. A woman sitting at the next table had Quin’s complete attention.
“Stop. Hovering. We cut the umbilical cord a long time ago,” Avery snarled.
“Do you blame me? After all the shit tonight?” A grimace crossed EJ’s face, which annoyed Avery even more. He didn’t have the patience to deal with his brother’s wounded self-esteem. He glanced back into the crowd, hoping Emeline was still in the same spot. In a tide of bodies, one drop of water resembled the next. Shit. His skin—not just his burn—shrink wrapped. He needed to leave, but EJ would chase him, all concerned and worried, demanding an explanation for everything, and Quin would follow.
Avery eased his death grip off the railing and noticed the crushed section beneath his fingers. What the—
Under his burned, tattooed skin, something slithered. His heart kicked into a driving beat, in tune with the throbbing bass from the speakers down below. His knees jellied, but he managed to slide his ass into his chair, aware that EJ’s gaze hadn’t left him. Though silent and with the woman now perched on his lap, Quin was dialed into the situation. His dark eyes dissected and assessed. There wasn’t much Quin missed.
Wonderful. Just what Avery needed, another busybody in his business, intent on helping him.
Two more women from the table made their way over. Both blonds with lots of silicone: EJ’s type. One touched Avery’s shoulder and though a sweater and coat separated skin-to-skin contact, his flesh cringed.
He was out of here.
“Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting.” Their waitress had finally returned with a helper.
Emeline approached, holding a pitcher of beer in each hand. Avery sat back and faded into the shadows just as her gaz
e focused on the area where he lurked. She couldn’t see him, but he could see enough of her in the skin-tight boy shorts, sheer pantyhose, and bandeau bra top that barely contained her generous breasts. God hadn’t skimped on the mammary glands. He should thank Him but didn’t appreciate the rest of the world having a view of her rack.
She’s not yours, fool! Yet, tension gathered in his muscles…all of them.
Two weeks of staying in the shadows, watching her from afar, close yet not close enough. Nevermore was he tempted to break his personal rule. Abruptly, she turned and walked away. He almost rose to drag her back.
This wasn’t normal. Not for him. He didn’t like the weaker sex. No good experience had ever come from his dealings with them. They were petty and vain, and other than bedroom gymnastics, utterly useless. None had ever held his interest longer than it took to ejaculate. So why the obsession? Why couldn’t he take his eyes off her as she maneuvered her way back to the bar? Why did she continue to stir his interest?
“EJ. Glad you made it.” Zachary shook EJ’s hand and nodded at Avery and Quin. “I got a favor to ask you.”
Favor? Avery looked up from his drink at EJ’s buddy from high school. They had paid for all the repairs to the club, including renovations and the expanded area where they were seated. Seemed only fair since they and Reign had destroyed everything inside. Now Zachary wanted more? Avery gritted his teeth as he waited for the request.
“I have a friend who needs protection.” Zachary continued.
“We don’t do personal protection.” Avery leaned forward and picked up his beer. “But you knew that already.” Zachary liked to push the envelope on his high school friendship with EJ.
“Besides, we have...family obligations. We’re not taking on new clients.” Quin added. Steel coated his smooth voice.
EJ grimaced. His usual expression. He had a bad habit of trying to please everyone. It was time to leave before his little brother opened his mouth and placed friendship ahead of family.
Avery didn’t wait for the others to follow. He wasn’t going back to RockGate and his patience had run out. His skin had shrunk to the size of a postage stamp, which had him twitching, eager for his fist to connect with flesh. The crowd parted as he made his way to the exit. Only a determined effort kept his gaze from straying toward her. He failed.
Just a glimpse to end the night. He searched for her tell-tale curls, hunger gnawing his insides when a glint of metal caught his eye in the mirror behind the bar.
He spotted a knife. Then the hand and slender wrist poised to strike. His gaze continued up the shapely arm, across a bare shoulder to Emeline’s tight face. Avery barreled through the crowd, grabbed her hand, and placed his body between hers and the guy sitting at the bar.
The instant Avery touched her, the frayed dark core churning within him slowed, turned into something more deadly—desire. Her skin was soft, delicate, and so damn warm. Or was it him on fire from simply caressing what he’d craved for so long? She pushed against him, struggling to be free to continue her assault. The correct pressure on her wrist and the knife dropped from her hand.
Her head jerked up and her hostile gaze nailed him. Then widened with surprise. Luscious lips parted and she sucked in a sharp breath. She shivered. In fear of him? He wondered. Did she remember their first encounter or the hospital? She shouldn’t remember him at all. He’d slipped up, let impulse control him, and break his cover. Not the first time with her. She was never supposed to see him, know of his presence. Yet here he stood, looming over her.
Her chest heaved, breasts jiggled, distracting him. “Why’d you stop me?” she said, yet didn’t pull her hand away. Her voice, even in anger, was sultry, potent. A narcotic to his eardrums.
Avery tossed the knife in the bar sink. “Too many witnesses.” From the corner of his eye, he spotted the man watching them. Avery pivoted and gave the guy his undivided attention.
Lightweight, he thought. The guy had some height and a bit of muscle mass under his expensive coat. No obvious bulge of a weapon. Soft hands clasped the beer bottle, though, by his grin, he was cocky, used to giving orders. Avery had seen his kind many times, usually surrounded by sycophants. The guy rose from his seat. He gave Emeline a possessive glare.
“You and I have a date with destiny,” the man said.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Lincoln,” she snarled.
Lincoln chuckled and turned his gaze on Avery. “This one ain’t worth the trouble.” He walked away.
The man had just shortened his lifespan. “Who is he?”Avery demanded.
Emeline wrestled her hand away. Her eyes threw daggers at Lincoln’s retreating back, then at Avery. “Who the hell are you?” She waited for his answer.
He didn’t give it to her. Nothing good would come from her knowing his name. She pushed, and Avery stepped out of her way, but watched as she stomped into the office. He didn’t have to turn to know EJ and Quin were guarding his back. She returned a few seconds later in a pair of low slung jeans, shrugging on a short leather jacket and slinging her purse over her shoulder.
Emeline walked by him on the way to the exit, without a glance his way. EJ whistled low and angled his neck to follow her strut. And she had a strut. A sensual sway her angry march couldn’t hide. And damn, she had an ass.
Avery wasn’t an ass man, that didn’t get him going. Legs cranked his engine. Loved them long and smooth and wrapped around his waist while he’s stroking deep, making that wet, sucking sound of two bodies slamming together. Looking at Emeline’s rear made him reevaluate everything he ever thought about being a legs man.
“What happened?” Zachary rushed over.
“Your bargirl almost gutted a customer.” Avery hadn’t taken his eyes off her.
“Emeline? Is she okay?” Zachary glanced around the bar looking for her.
“She left.” She handled the knife like a pro, Avery thought.
“Someone broke into her house two nights ago. They roughed her up and put her grandfather in the hospital.”
Avery grabbed Zachary by the collar and hauled him close. “Who broke into her house?”
“I-I don’t know. She won’t say,” he wheezed. “Could be her ex-boyfriend. That’s why I wanted to hire a bodyguard.”
That’s why she was in the hospital. Emeline hurt. Touched against her will. Possibly murdered in her home for protecting herself and her grandfather. The darkness inside of him unfurled. Cold rage swept through him.
“I’ll guard her. Free of charge. Should only take a few days. The family won’t even know I’m gone.” EJ started after her.
Avery’s arm shot out and blocked him. “I got this one.”
EJ’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “You want to babysit? Since when?”
Since now. “I’ll make sure she gets home,” Avery said.
“The family comes first,” Quin said.
As if I don’t know that. Avery’s jaw made a grinding sound. Regardless of the family, he wouldn’t leave her without protection. “I’ll guard her tonight. Then hand her over to McIntosh.”
“Turning her over to a rival company?” Quin smirked.
Avery gave a single nod. If he couldn’t safeguard her, he’d make sure the second best would. After he got her home safely and made sure she was okay. “We don’t do personal protection.” He strode from the building, his words mocking him.
Chapter Twelve
Breathing slightly elevated from sprinting from the RedZone’s downtown address to the house on Riverside, Ridley stormed into the residence. Her phone rang. One of her minions called. “Talk.” She didn’t have time for pleasantries.
“She’s leaving, but going the wrong way.”
Damn it. Why did everyone need her tender, loving care? “I’ll take care of it. You stick to the plan or you won’t get paid.” She pressed end and called Emeline.
“Turn left,” Ridley said as soon as Emeline answered.
“The subway is to the right and I’m going home,”
Emeline said.
“Stop arguing with me and do it now.” Ridley ended the conversation without offering a token threat. Emeline knew what was at stake.
A spark of guilt flared. Ridley clutched the locket dangling around her neck and pushed the emotion away as she refocused and descended into the bowels of the house. With only three months left to live, she didn’t have the luxury of indulging her conscience. She strode by the open slab stone and traversed the length of the meeting room, stopping a few feet away from Khuket.
The Book of Eidos and another tome lay open on the altar along with several ancient artifacts the Order had collected over the centuries, dull pieces of etched obsidian metal and fragments of an amulet.
Could any of them help me survive?
Ridley couldn’t quell her rising excitement. Completely deciphering the Book of Eidos was why she brought Khuket here. She had other contingencies in place, but the goddess was her best chance at success. The secret to breaking her curse was in that book. It had to be. She wanted to study the tomes with the goddess, but Khuket had brushed her aside as soon as she entered the library.
Since arriving at the Riverside house fourteen hours ago, the goddess ignored every attempt at dialogue as she studied the Book of Eidos. Which was exactly why Ridley gave everyone in the house a few days off and brought Khuket here. She called it an early Thanksgiving vacation.
Khuket whispered to herself in a language Ridley was certain no linguist could decipher. So much for being a mastermind. She had to make the goddess her friend if she wanted to live past her next birthday.
Double Damn! She hadn’t risked everything to lead the Order with only a few months left to live for Khuket to barge in and ride roughshod over her… No, there was no barging, Ridley had invited her.
A week ago she woke drenched in sweat and crying at the pain spreading from her marrow.
The power rolled through her and she knew a true, full-blooded god had arrived. Not the watered-down-to-the-one-billionth, centuries-removed, too-many-generations-to-count blood the Nulls carried that she waded through each day.
Evermore (Descendants of Ra: Book 3) Page 9
