Rush: The Riptide Series Book #1

by Brooke Page

  Chapter Six

  Vance

  “What was that about?” Tucker complained the second we stepped foot into the back room. “No one in this bar is as qualified to bring back to the Nest, and you’re ruining our chances with those chicks!”

  Shoving him against the wall, I got in his face, towering over his scrawny stature. I didn’t like to use my intimidation skills often, but when the hunting party started to step out of line, it was a must. “I told you—off-limits. I’ll deal with her.”

  “You mean Lauren?” Colt sighed, scratching his head and glancing through the opened door. I followed his eyes, seeing he was still gazing at Marcy. Rolling my eyes, I paced to the door, slamming it shut.

  “If you want a job, you need to lose interest in Marcy Contreras.” Stomping to the table where both guys sat and pouted, I fisted my hands on my hips. “If you two can’t hack being a part of this, then you both need to get out. Now. Because I’m not going to waste my time training your asses for the ultimate job.”

  Both Colt and Tucker looked up at me, curious as to what the ultimate job was. I shook my head. They wouldn’t know until the time was right, and hopefully, that time would be a part of the big bust where Marcus would be thrown in jail.

  Or shot in the head.

  I’d be happy to do option two myself.

  “So what now?” Colt asked quietly. “There aren’t any other girls here between the age of eighteen to twenty-five. You want us to go home?”

  Pacing the small room with tile floors and gaudy starfish wallpaper, I tried to decide what to do with these two. My brain told me to send them to another bar, but I was interested in the blonde.

  Lauren. Her demeanor tonight proved even more she was the perfect candidate that Marcus needed. Timid, shy, not from around here, nothing urging her to go back home. I needed to speak with her more, find out just how alone she really was.

  She smelled nice too—a citrus scent that tickled my nostrils. It drew me to stand behind her longer. She was uncomfortable when I lingered, so I forced myself to move, studying her mannerisms instead. Noticing she was self-conscious by how she cowered and fidgeted, avoiding eye-contact as if it were the plague, gave me even more intuition that she would be a perfect Dove.

  Scratching my jaw, I nodded my head definitively. “Alright. You both can hang out at the bar, have a few drinks, maybe chat with the two girls some more. But nothing more than talking, got it?”

  Colts eyes widened, while Tucker frowned. “What fun is just talking to a woman?”

  Inwardly I smiled, but glared at him. “Maybe they have friends. Maybe they know other hangouts. Just maybe, they can give you some information that will help you earn more cash.”

  Tucker sipped his beer, then nodded. He understood and so did Colt. They had only been working with me for a few months, but neither of them wanted to go back to the streets of New Orleans.

  “I’m going to make some calls. Go ahead on out there.” Both left while I reached for my phone. Calling Marcus always sucked, but the FBI liked to record my conversations with him on a weekly basis.

  “You out finding Compost?” he answered.

  I held in my anger at his nicknames for the women he recruited. Compost meant future prospects, prostitutes went by worms, while the birds were the clients. I hated his sick nicknames we used to speak in code.

  “Not a lot of Compost here, but yes.”

  His breath was heavy over the phone. I hated hearing it, knowing he was scheming in his head.

  “Any Doves?”

  My eyes closed and my teeth ground together. He was antsy to start back up again. It was always the second phrase out of his mouth. Doves were the really unlucky ones. They went up for sale at the Cage, where the Vultures picked their prey.

  Marcus had a sick and twisted food chain.

  “Might have a lead.”

  “Good. Call me tomorrow, or bring her to the Nest. I’ll need to approve.”

  “Marcus, you know we need to research her before we bring her into anything. For all we know she could have a rich daddy who will search for her until the ends of the earth.”

  Marcus tsked over the phone. “Now, Vance, are you ever going to call me Dad again?”

  I swallowed. “Only during family time.”

  I sensed Marcus’s grimy smile through the phone. I could tell by the inhale of his breath. “So I need to have a barbeque?”

  “I won’t hold my breath. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Looking forward to it. Go catch em’, son.”

  I hung up the phone, disgusted with myself. How could I pull this off? Was the FBI even going to intervene if the poor girl got chosen? They hadn’t intervened a whole lot within the past six months. I understood they needed to have information to catch Marcus from all angles, but he had henchmen that could be taken down easily then work their way up to Marcus.

  Sitting down and rubbing my eyes, I contemplated getting the fuck out of The Shore. But my hatred for my father was too strong. I needed to ride this train out, figure out where my options were, or how long this process could take. My heart was covered in darkness, and it wasn’t getting any lighter. By the time we caught Marcus, I could still be caught up in the evil. Capturing innocent women for the pleasure of sick fucks would alter my conscience between what was right and what was wrong.

  A flash of blonde hair breezed by the doorway, bringing me back to the now. I needed to focus and get back in the game. Enough time had passed that the bar might be more crowded. Hopefully Colt came to his senses and found another girl to invest his time into. But even more importantly, I hoped Tucker found another girl to prey on besides Lauren.

  Standing from my chair, I made my way back into the heart of the bar, searching through the sea of locals. It wasn’t as busy as usual, but it had picked up since we’d arrived.

  I shook my head when I found Colt. As I predicted, he was dancing with Marcy, getting up close and personal. I held back my scowl. That kid will never make it in this business.

  Moving my eyes to the back bar, I saw Tucker sitting by himself. Relief swept through me, knowing he wasn’t with Lauren. I searched further, my brows furrowing when I couldn’t find her. Turning, I headed backward to the deck facing the water. The cool breeze swept across my face once I passed through the threshold. Lights were strung along the railing, creating a soft glow toward the sand. Taking a deep breath, my heart found a moment of peace.

  The ocean was my saving grace, it always had been. Gliding high in the air while on my surfboard was when my head was most clear. The wind controlled where I went, but protected me from all of my demons. Some people were terrified of being taken by the ocean, but not me.

  The stars were bright tonight, casting over the waves. Instinctively, I headed to the stairwell, kicking off my flip-flops once I hit the sand. The grittiness between my toes was cool to the touch, enveloping my feet with each step.

  Then I saw her. Sitting and staring out at the water. Her blonde hair was flowing in the wind, her knees hugged tightly to her chest. She was curled up like a hermit crab, the perfect bait for the shark I was.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “Sick of being inside?”

  She jumped as I approached, her head craning toward me. Letting out a breath of air, she smiled at me. It was contagious.

  “Hi,” her quiet voice greeted. “Bars aren’t really my thing.”

  “No?” I responded. I found myself taking a seat next to her, keeping a good foot or so between us. She remained tightly wound, her arms still hugging her legs to her chest. This girl wasn’t trusting. “I figured you weren’t into the party scene after you almost admitted to being underage.”

  Her lashes touched her cheeks as she smiled. “Sometimes I don’t think before I speak.”

  I rested my elbows on my knees, hoping my relaxed state would make her feel safe. Tonight wasn’t about making a move, at least not yet. “That’s not always a bad quality.”

  “Might be my onl
y good quality.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

  She bit her bottom lip, twiddling her fingers between each other. “You don’t really know me.”

  “I’d like to. Let me try?”

  Her chin rested on her bicep as she contemplated, then finally nodded.

  Rubbing my hands together, I guessed, “Midwestern girl, yeah?”

  Her lip quirked first, then a subtle nod.

  “Happy house with mom and dad, maybe a sibling or two?” Her expression was somber. I knew I was wrong, but needed to feel out her reactions. “They’re a touch controlling? Don’t like the fact that their little girl is growing up and doing things on her own, for instance, traveling to a Southern hotspot where careless decisions are made. Am I right?”

  Her eyes were hooded as she dipped her chin, hiding behind her bicep, holding her legs closer to her chest. She even began rocking.

  “Not quite,” she whispered. “The only family I have is my mother.”

  “Is she overprotective?”

  Her eyes found the ocean, staring off before she shook her head. “She’s not one to hover.”

  Her shoulders trembled as she balled herself together as tight as she could. Even her toes flexed into the sand. Guilt consumed me. I was doing this to her on purpose, seeing how sad she really was.

  “Wow, I’m not usually this bad at predicting where people come from,” I chuckled in attempts to diffuse the tension.

  Tilting her head toward me, she cracked a small smile. “If I come across as the spoiled rich girl who has a family who cares about her, that doesn’t say much about me.”

  My brows knitted together. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

  She arched one thin eyebrow. “No? It’s kind of what you implied.”

  “I meant, you seem… poised. Like you have support and not a heap of problems.” So, I might have lied a little.

  Lauren laughed under her breath. “Everyone has problems.” She uncoiled her arms, leaning her hands back in the sand and stretching out her long legs. I couldn’t help but notice how toned they were in the light of the moon and the faint glow from the bar behind us.

  “Even you,” she challenged, re-directing my inappropriate daydream.

  “Oh yeah? And how would you peg me?” I goaded.

  She tapped her chin and scrunched her brows as if she were in deep thought, yet mischief sparked within her blue eyes. “You’re quiet, do what you feel is best no matter what anyone says, and beat to your own drum. Athletic, but didn’t like team sports because of the ego-driven superstars, so you stick to individual sports, like surfing and biking. You’d prefer to be alone, but people are attracted to your easy confidence.”

  I had to use every ounce of muscle in my mouth to keep my jaw from dropping. This woman had great perception and could be an undercover agent.

  Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she became anxious, worried she offended me.

  Leaning back on both my hands, I stretched my legs alongside of hers, my expressionless face turning into a grin. “Wow, you didn’t hold back.”

  “I’m sorry,” she apologized instantly. “Remember, I speak before I think.”

  Tipping my head back, I laughed out loud. She was too sweet for her own good. “Don’t apologize. You were partially right,” I lied.

  She caught on, giving me a knowing grin. “Partially, huh? Exactly what parts were correct?”

  I bobbed my head from side to side. “Quiet, yes. I’m not normally one to start the conversation.”

  “You did five minutes ago.”

  I paused, blinking at her. “I did.” Tilting my head down and pulling my brows in, I added, “Very uncharacteristic of me.”

  She smiled down at her knees. Eye contact really wasn’t her thing.

  “Loner, yes. People being attracted to my confidence? Not so sure about that one. Doing what I feel is best? Typically.” Guilt ate at me as I lied. If I were doing what was truly best, I wouldn’t be contemplating putting this beautiful girl up as bait.

  “You’re right about team sports, not really my thing. I do enjoy kite surfing, guess you could call that an individual sport.”

  Her eyes lit up when I said kite surfing. “I watched you today. That looked insane.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty stellar.”

  She giggled.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to add true surfer-boy vocabulary to your description.” She covered her mouth this time as she snickered.

  “Like, totally,” I teased.

  She laughed harder, throwing her head back. The way her eyes crinkled and her smile broadened made my heart pump faster. She looked carefree and happy, living in the moment. Maybe I was completely wrong about her. Lauren was probably finding herself, needing time away from wherever she came from to figure out her life.

  “How old are you?”

  Her laugh slowed as she wiped her eyes. “Nineteen. You?”

  “Twenty-four.”

  “I take it you’re done with college? That’s awesome you own your own shop.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Never finished. Took a few classes out of high school, but it wasn’t for me.”

  She looked at me curiously. “Yet you have your own store?”

  I smiled at her. If she only knew the upper level was one of my father’s headquarters for deadly meetings. “I had an investor.”

  She nodded. “I work at a local arcade and activities center.” She was embarrassed. I could tell by the way her voice quieted when she talked.

  “Sounds fun, actually.”

  She looked at me with raised brows and a half smile. “It’s not my long-term goal.”

  “What is your long-term goal?”

  The life from her eyes faded. “I’m not really sure.” Her face fell as she thought about her own words. She was clearly torn about her future.

  “I kind of take care of my mom. I mean, she depends on me.”

  “Is she sick?”

  Lauren looked toward the moon. “Something like that.”

  I couldn’t help but dive deeper. I didn’t like her vague answer. “Cancer?”

  She sighed, brushing sand off her thighs. I watched intently, noticing her shorts were hiked damn near to her hips. Her skin looked smooth, and I wondered if she was as soft as she appeared.

  Her voice was barely a whisper. “She’s an addict.”

  My jaw clenched at the word. It was a terrible disease that destroyed my life. Drugs, sex, power…

  My eyes closed as I took a deep breath. This girl and I had a lot in common.

  “My mom was an addict too.” My mouth snapped shut the moment I made the confession. Never, had I ever, talked to anyone about my mother.

  Her eyes shot to mine, flickers of concern flashing in them. I couldn’t break away from her blue irises. There wasn’t any pity like I’d feared behind her gaze, only understanding and empathy.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” She sighed, resituating her body so she was sitting up tall and crossing her legs. “You said was... does that mean…?”

  “Yeah. She overdosed.” I ground my teeth, hating the fucker who shot her up with too big of a dose, doing it on purpose so he could watch his wife drown like the rest of the women he used for his fucked-up way of life.

  “Every time I come home, I wonder if she’s going to be breathing while lying on the couch, or if our house will be burned to the ground.”

  She said the words easily, but I could tell by the heaviness under her eyes the thought of finding her mother dead and her home gone was one of her ultimate fears.

  I could confirm that fear. Discovering my own mother dead was indeed a nightmare no one should ever endure. The eerie feeling crept through my veins, haunting me with the memory of her washed up on the shore.

  “I know the feeling. My mom was pretty good about not doing it in front of me at least. I didn’t catch on until I was older.” Marcus didn’t introduce and force her
to do the drug until he was sick of her nagging him and threatening to leave with me.

  Picking up sand with her hand and letting it fall through the creases between her fingers, she asked softly, “Do you miss her?”

  My heart pounded. I’d do anything to feel the warmth of my mother’s smile one last time. She was the only good in my life for a long time, until the drugs and addiction took over.

  I stared at her until she met my eyes. “Every. Single. Day.”

  Not blinking, she said, “I’m terrified I wouldn’t miss her.” Her eyes moistened, and she looked away, scraping her cheekbone with her thumb. “Wow, that must make me sound like a heartless bitch.”

  I scooted closer to her. Baffled by the overwhelming need to comfort her, I went against my brain that said she was only a future prospect to help me put away my dad. Her crushed spirits were disheartening, bringing the painful ache I carried with me to the surface. “No, it doesn’t make you heartless. Hopefully you’ll never have to find out.”

  She blew out air, both of us knowing it wasn’t a likely outcome. Addiction is a terrible sickness. I knew if I ever touched the stuff, I’d fail. The supposed good feelings narcotics brought would suck me in, pulling my soul to the depths of sinister defiance. This was why I was adamant to never try it outside of a little pot. I didn’t want to be any more of a monster than I already was.

  I had my own taste of addictions. Harmful and harmless. Kite surfing was one of them. The need to fly through the air consumed me like a drug. My hands needed to be calloused from the bar, my muscles craved the burn from fighting against the wind. It was a power control between me and Mother Nature. If I could master her strengths, then I was in control of my own destiny.

  As for harmful addictions, my biggest was the need for revenge. I was hell bent on taking down the monster who had created me.

  Her chest rose as she shared such an intimate fear. Sucking in a gulp of air, she changed the subject. “Tell me a good memory you have of your mom.”