1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Fourteen

by Kristen Ashley

  With a nod and a smile, I agree. I have no intention of staying at Eve’s, but if it makes what he’s doing easier, he can believe I am.

  Leaning in, he brushes his lips against mine then kisses my neck at his spot. He pulls back to look me in the eyes and I see something there. Regret? Loss?

  “I’ll try to call you later.”

  Try?

  “Okay.”

  Standing with purpose, he walks away.

  “I love you, Jonah Slade.” My whispered words are said to the door that he closes behind him.

  ~*~

  Jonah

  “Come on, Blake, answer the door!”

  I’ve been knocking on his door for the last ten minutes. I know he’s home because I saw his Jeep parked downstairs.

  I bang on the door again. “Blake, open up!”

  I hear him fumbling with the lock and the door swings open. Blake is standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but his boxer briefs. His eyes are half shut and his face puffy with sleep and a possible hangover.

  “Fuck, man. Where’s the fire?” His voice is rough and laced with irritation.

  “I need to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

  “What?” He yawns, scratching his chest. “Dude, it’s like six o’clock in the morning.”

  “It’s ten o’clock, idiot.”

  “Oh, well then, come on in.” He gestures dramatically with his arm, and I push past him into his place.

  “What the hell happened to you? You look like shit.”

  “You don’t want to know,” he says on a groan.

  “You alone?”

  He stares at me and his eyebrows drop low. “No. Why?”

  “I need what I’m about to say to be kept private.” My eyes dart to the hallway that leads to his room, then back to him. “You mind sending your sleepover guest home?”

  “Fuck. Yeah, hold on.”

  He disappears down the hall, and I walk to the other end of his living room. Last thing I want is a front row seat to the dismissing of his overnight guest. I watch out the ten-foot-tall window of his modern townhouse and shudder at the show his neighbors must get most nights.

  “But, I thought you said you’d make us breakfast,” a female voice whines from the hallway.

  “Yeah, you said you’d feed us your sausage,” says another.

  Fucking Blake.

  “Change of plans, ladies. Maybe next time.”

  “Aww.” The disappointed reply sounds in unison.

  Blake walks to the door with two girls. One stumbles, trying to slip on her high heel, while the other shoves a wad of lace and silk into her tiny purse. I recognize them immediately as Octagon Girls. And I am intimately familiar with both.

  “Hey, Jonah.” The tall blonde calls out as she passes me in the living room.

  I nod.

  The brunette tosses me a wave. “Hi, Jonah.”

  “All right, ladies, thanks for last night . . . and this morning.”

  He all but shoves them out the door, slamming it behind them.

  “Screw you later,” he mumbles.

  I shake my head. “You’re a pig.”

  “So were you once.” He plops down on the couch, still in his underwear.

  “You want to get some fucking clothes on?”

  He looks at me like I just asked him to wear a dress. “You want to tell me why you’re beating down my door at the shit crack of dawn?”

  Dropping down in the seat across from him, I fill Blake in on my situation. His jaw locks down as I tell him every detail of Raven’s meeting. A whispered curse breaks free when I tell him about how I found her after.

  “That motherfucker!” Blake jumps up from the couch to pace the room.

  “I have a plan, but I need your help. I know Dominick is part owner of Zeus’s. I need you to get with one of the girls and find out when he goes in there.”

  He’s still pacing and hasn’t acknowledged that I’ve said a word.

  “Blake. Can you do that?”

  He stops and turns toward me. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  Grabbing his phone, he takes his seat back on the couch, this time not slumped over, but tense and leaning forward. “You’re not meeting with that asswipe alone. I’m going with you.”

  “No, I have to do it alone. I won’t drag you into this.”

  He pins me with a glare. “Drag me into this?” His arm shoots out to point a finger to his wall window. “That girl’s cool as shit.” He points at me. “She’s your girl. That makes her my responsibility too.”

  “Blake, anything could happen. You sure you want to get messed up in all this?”

  He coughs out a laugh. “Let me ask you something. What’re you going to do when Morretti makes some comment about Raven taking cock for cash, huh?”

  I suppress a growl. A low vibration in my spine amplifies to a buzz. My teeth grind together and I scowl at Blake.

  “That’s what I thought. You’re going to flip the switch on that dicklick and he’ll shoot your dumb ass and claim self-defense. And where does that leave Raven, hmm?”

  I narrow my glare on him.

  “Exactly.”

  The cocky ass is right. Dominick will most likely try to get me riled up, and I can’t be responsible for what happens if he disrespects Raven.

  “You’re right. I’ll need you there. How soon can we get the ball rolling?”

  Blake already has his phone to his ear. “Selena, baby, it’s me. I got a question for you.”

  Fifteen

  Raven

  The bay doors slamming shut pulls me from the wiring of a ’57 Chevy. The halogen lights of the garage replace the sun that shone in when I started this project.

  Where did the time go?

  Drowning myself in work is a good distraction from the chaos in my head, but I’ve lost an entire afternoon.

  The awareness of time brings pain to the gaping void in my chest. I haven’t heard from Jonah all day. I didn’t expect him to contact me, but I hoped he would. I check my phone again. Nothing.

  “Wrap it up, Ray.”

  I grab my tools and find Guy in the back, putting things away.

  “Who’s on tomorrow?” I ask, tossing my set on a workbench.

  He doesn’t look up from an assortment of wire terminals. “Cane. Why?”

  “I thought I’d come in, you know, um, help out—”

  He bangs closed a metal toolbox. “What’s goin’ on, Ray?” He studies my face. “You’ve been zip-lipped all day, and from the look on your face, I’d say someone died.”

  That’s what it feels like. I shrug and pick grease from my nails, avoiding his eyes. “Nah, just thought I’d get some extra hours.”

  “You hurtin’ for money?”

  “No, it’s not that.” I just need to stay busy so I don’t have time to . . . feel.

  His bushy, gray eyebrows drop low, making the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced. “You and the boy havin’ problems?”

  I exhale, annoyed at my transparency.

  “You could say that. He has a lot on his plate with the fight coming up.” Guilt washes over me as I lie. I can’t tell him the truth. It’s too real.

  He leans against a workbench and crosses his ankles. “He tell you that?”

  I shake my head. “Our lives are too different.”

  “And different is a bad thing?”

  “You don’t understand,” I mumble to my feet.

  “I’ll tell you what I do understand. I see a boy who’s lived his life in the public eye for just shy of ten years. He’s made his taste in women obvious: quick, easy, and disposable. You step on the scene, he drops it all, stands toe to toe with me, and makes his intentions clear. Differences be damned. The boy’s crazy about you.”

  “Some differences are too big.”

  “You listen here, Ray. I’m no expert on relationships. Only been in love once. That was over thirty years ago. But I know it when I see it.”

  “You were in lov
e?” I stare in shock at the self-proclaimed, lifetime bachelor.

  “Yep, fell in love with an angel.” His eyes get soft. “But she was engaged to someone else.”

  I don’t know what to say, but I want to hear more. I nod for him to continue.

  “You know what I did to mess it up?”

  “What?”

  “Nothin’. And that’s how I lost her.” He reflects in silence for a beat, studying the garage walls. He shakes his head. “I didn’t fight for her. I could have fought, tried to get her out from under her obligation, but I didn’t. Biggest mistake of my life.”

  “But she was engaged to someone else. How do you know she would have left her fiancé?”

  His face falls, eyebrows low, and he studies the floor. “I’ll never know. That’s what kills me.”

  The pain in his voice has me blinking back tears. “Was there never anyone else? After her?”

  “I love her. She’s it for me.” He’s not speaking in past tense.

  I can’t decide if that’s the saddest or the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard, and yet I’m destined for a similar fate. There will never be another love for me, not like Jonah. I can see how Guy would close himself off, subject to a lifetime sentence of loneliness for one girl. But the difference is that Guy’s love was worth the fight. He didn’t fight for her, but he lives with the regret because she was worth that. Not me.

  “Not everyone’s worth fighting for.”

  He steps close and places his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes look deep into mine. “I’ve seen you two together: the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, like you’re the sun and he’s happily stuck in your orbit. Never seen you with a boy before so I can’t be sure, but seein’ you messed up in the head about it, I’m guessin’ you feel the same way. You guys got something special, Ray. Fight for it. It’s worth that.”

  His words rock me to the bone. Something deep and instinctual recognizes Guy’s words as truth, but I can’t get past my head: Jonah’s conversation with Owen, him pushing me off on Eve, not calling all day. All arrows point to a broken heart.

  My head throbs, and I have an overwhelming urge to be alone. “Thanks, G.”

  “You’re welcome. You don’t want to be me, lookin’ back on your life, wishing you could have another shot at something sweet.” He ruffles my hair then steps back. “Now, go get some sleep. You look like hell.”

  He throws his arm over my shoulder and walks me to the foot of my stairs. Departing with a wave, I watch him until he disappears around the corner.

  The weight of today pressing down, I drag my body up the stairs. A hot shower sounds better and better with each step. The motion light above my door flicks on, and I freeze as my foot hits the top step. Holy crud.

  The old door to my apartment is gone, and in its place is a solid, dark wood one with an enormous platinum handle. My jaw falls open as I study its features: a peep hole and three gleaming locks. I grab my keys and finger through the set to find . . . Yep, there it is: a shiny new silver key. Jonah must have slipped it on my key chain this morning. The corners of my mouth lift as I examine the product of his overprotective nature, and just as quickly as the smile comes, it fades. How will I live without him?

  I’m able to get myself inside before the tears start to fall. Crawling onto my bed, I bury my face in the pillow and sob. I have to believe there is a tiny chance that Jonah doesn’t want to end things. I can’t go on any other way.

  But hope is such a dangerous thing. My heart dared to hope that Dominick would one day come banging on my door, begging for forgiveness. But instead, he killed every dream of a future I had. Hope. It has sustained me through my darkest days, but it also lifted me up only to drop me, breaking me into irreparable pieces. Could I live through that kind of fall again?

  Crying jag over, I pull myself up and into the shower. I move through the motions, numb and absent. Dressed in drawstring fleece pants, a tank, and flip-flops, I check my phone. No missed calls.

  I haven’t heard from Eve all day, and although I’d planned on ignoring Jonah’s request that I stay at Eve’s, I could use the company. It must be the new boyfriend that’s keeping her busy. Except for the occasional text message and a couple morning phone conversations this past week, she’s been unavailable. The few talks we’ve had have been one-sided. She asks me about Jonah, and I talk forever, but she never talks about herself outside of what she’s up to at work. Just thinking about her now is making me miss her terribly.

  I dial her number and listen as her voicemail tells me to leave a message. With nothing better to do, I decide to drive over and drop in on her. If she’s not there, I can always try her work.

  Grabbing my keys, I head to my car with the hopes of finding Eve and keeping my mind off Jonah. I relax as the hum of my Nova and the warm air that whips my hair envelop me. Elton John blasts in my ears, and in that moment, I’m just some girl, not the daughter of a prostitute and a pimp, bred for— Ugh! I slam my hand on the steering wheel and focus on the crooning voice of Sir Elton. I punch the gas, singing at the top of my lungs and hoping to chase away the worst of my demons.

  As I pass a strip of fast-food restaurants, I’m hit with the smell of hot oil and french fries. My stomach rumbles its complaint. With everything that’s been going on today, I’ve forgotten to eat. I try Eve’s phone again. Voicemail. I redirect my car to hit my favorite drive-thru.

  Turning left towards the lights of the Vegas strip, I head down Tropicana. The flashing neon of a club up ahead gets my attention. There’s a line of people wrapped around the building. I recognize it immediately as Zeus’s Playground, one of the high-end strip clubs in town. Stuck at a stoplight, I look at the club, shaking my head at all the men who are about to drop a week’s pay down the panties of a stripper while the little woman is probably home taking care of the kids. Pathetic.

  My gaze moves back to the road in front of me when something catches my eye. In the parking lot of the club, I would recognize it anywhere. I squint hard. My head gets light, and the blood drains to pool in the pit of my empty stomach. I fight the impulse to vomit or pass out.

  Jonah’s truck.

  I blink, hoping to clear the optical illusion. The honking of a car horn startles me and causes me to look ahead. The light’s green, and I need to drive, but I can’t get my limbs to cooperate.

  He said he had a meeting.

  A quick shot of anger brings my body around, and I press the gas to get through the intersection. With trembling hands, I pull off to the side of the road. I take another hard look. Blake had mentioned this place at the barbeque. It was where he met the girls he brought. All of them, including Candy.

  Jonah’s in there with Candy.

  And just like that, hope has dropped my sorry butt off a cliff.

  Panic floods my veins. My breathing is labored, like I’m sucking air through a straw. I shake out my arms, trying to rid them of the numbness taking over, but movement only pushes the sensation into my torso. My heart beats fast—too fast. Terror spreads through my body. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Oh please, God, not now.” I pray aloud with hopes of divine intercession.

  An anxiety attack grips my body. Tears stream down my face, and I struggle against the lost feeling that threatens to overtake me. I push against my sternum, willing my heart to slow.

  “Come on, Raven. Talk yourself down.” I take a breath. “I’m in control.”

  My eyes fly open at my pitiful lie. Control? That’s the last thing I have. My hands grip either side of my head and I rock back and forth.

  Of course, he’s there. Why would he want to be with me, the future hooker? I close my eyes tightly. The daughter of a pimp. My body shakes. The grease monkey, tomboy. My head pounds. The virgin.

  I need to calm down. Stop acting like a helpless little girl. I breathe in deep through my nose and out my mouth, until my mind slows enough for me to think straight. I need to decide what to do now. Should I go confront him? Why? So
he can tell me to my face, with Candy straddling his lap, that he doesn’t want me? I pull back into the street, almost hitting another car, and speed to Eve’s.

  Throwing my car in park at the curb outside her house, I walk up the front path. I’m shaking, but still. Pained, but numb. Bleeding, but alive. Consumed with confusion and contradictions.

  I reach her door and knock as hard as I can. After a few clicks of the lock, the door opens to expose a very skimpily dressed Eve. Through the small crack in the door, I can see lit candles in the background.

  “Raven, what are you doing here?”

  “I called. You didn’t answer.” It’s all I can manage without breaking out in a full-body sob.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been . . . busy.” She looks guilty and a little ashamed.

  Her eyes seem sketchy as she looks over my shoulder to the street behind me. I look to see what’s stealing her attention. There, parked in the street, is a black H2. My eyebrows pull together.

  I must have missed it when I pulled up. I guess seeing my boyfriend’s car at a strip club where his ex-hook up works when he told me he had a work meeting made me unobservant. My arms wrap protectively around my chest and my shoulders curl forward, holding myself together. I might dissolve completely at the slightest breeze of pain.

  “Eve, who’s at the door?” a deep voice beckons from behind her. My wide eyes lock with hers in shock and silent apology.

  “Oh, Eve, I’m so sorry. You have company. I’ll go.”

  Wait, why does that voice sound familiar?

  “No, Rave, wait. You look horrible. Have you been crying? What’s going on?”

  She still hasn’t opened the door anymore, but her face shows concern. A large hand curls around her waist from behind, and a tall man comes into view over her shoulder.

  Holy shit!

  ~*~

  Jonah

  It’s nine forty-five and the club is getting crowded. Even from my seat at the bar, it’s hard to see through the bodies filling the place. The girls finally got the hint that we aren’t here for entertainment. Their advances went beyond annoying to borderline hostile in the last hour. Blake and I finally had to tell them to back off and get the hell out of our way.