***
The vintage clothing shop was located on Cole Street halfway between Griffin and Initial Avenue. Despite the weather, an elderly couple sat at a bistro table in front of the bakery next door, sipping coffee from paper cups and sharing an enormous cupcake. Zara smiled when the old man took a napkin and dabbed a crumb from the woman’s chin. A snowplow rumbled past them on its way to the highway leading to the mountain pass. The roads were bare and slick in town, but at a slightly higher altitude, they’d be covered in snow.
Zara thought Vince was right behind her when she entered Second Time Around, but when she stopped at a rack of men’s shirts, she realized he hadn’t walked in yet.
He was glancing around the small shop, a wary expression on his face as if he were assessing how safe it was inside. When he caught her looking at him, he gave a thin-lipped smile and stepped through the door.
Part of her wanted go to him and ask if he was okay, but she decided not to address it so blatantly. These were all new sights and sounds for him. A much different environment than what he had been used to. He was bound to feel out of place and nervous about things at first. No need to draw attention to that fact. It was a victory in itself that he agreed to come into town with her at all.
“It’ll be fun to get out,” she’d said to him back at Reckless when she brought him a cup of coffee in bed. “No word on when they’ll stop doing road checks, so we might as well make the best of it. Besides, we both could use a change of clothes. I’m getting tired of wearing my brother’s old sweats and T-shirts.”
The sheets were draped over his lower torso as he sipped his coffee. “You don’t think anyone will recognize me, do you?”
She looked at his buzz cut and his clean-shaven face. “Even if they show a picture of you on a Jumbo Tron, you look much different now. The new you could be one of the guys looking for the old you.”
It was true. Ever since he cut his hair and shaved off his beard, he looked like a young army recruit. Except for his eyes. With a few wrinkles at the corners, they held the stark memories of ten long years spent behind bars.
The store had a mix of new and used clothes as well as a few toys and knickknacks. Not as extensive as the one in New Seattle where she’d bought the dress and shoes for the museum gala, but it wasn’t bad.
In less than twenty minutes, she found three flannel shirts, two pairs of jeans and a leather coat for Vince, as well as several T-shirts, a pair of Rock n Republics and an oversized fisherman’s knit sweater for her.
“All set?” she asked. Vince had his back to her and she couldn’t figure out what he was looking at.
“I think you need to get these.” He turned and held up the largest pair of granny panties that Zara had ever seen.
Laughter burst from her throat. “Oh my God, no way.”
He held them off to the side, pinkie fingers up. “Are you sure? They’re kind of pretty with all these daisies. Our flower, you know.”
She snatched them from him and tossed them back on the pile.
“As if.” She snorted. “They’d come clear up to my chin.” She spotted a doll on a nearby shelf. It was an iconic toy, but its name escaped her. “Who is this again?”
Vince gave her a pained expression. “Um, Ken?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” Not having grown up here, she couldn’t remember. The girlfriend was Barbie. At least she knew that.
“Ken,” she said, looking at the doll, “don’t you think that underwear is disgusting? Yes, Zara,” she said in a deep voice, “they are.”
Without skipping a beat, Vince grabbed the Barbie from the shelf. “Personally,” he said in falsetto, “I don’t wear underwear.”
She burst out laughing, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth when she realized how loud she was. “You don’t?” she asked in her Ken voice.
“No. I find them way too binding.” Then Vince put the Barbie into her plastic convertible and rolled it toward Ken. “Hey big fella, I’ll be back to pick you up later.”
Zara didn’t think she could laugh any harder until Vince grabbed Ken from her, pressed the two dolls together and stuck them both into the back seat of Barbie’s car. She seriously almost peed her pants. An older woman looking through a tray of costume jewelry gave them the side-eye. The salesgirl behind the counter was trying not to smile.
“You are so naughty.” She pushed him away from the dolls.
He grinned and let her back him up a few steps. “My sister used to make me play Barbies with her.”
“Barbie and Ken getting married? Barbie and Ken going shopping?”
“Hardly. There’d be a break-in at Barbie’s mansion. Naturally, Ken would go investigate. Then after he’d secured the premises and beat the crap out of the intruder, I’d shove Ken and Barbie into the same bed together, which would make my sister scream.”
She punched him playfully in the chest. “How old were you?”
“Ten, maybe?” he said, grabbing her wrists and stopping the assault.
“So you’ve always been a control freak.”
Without letting go, he moved her hands to the small of his back, pulling her to the hard plane of his chest, and stepped backward. She had no choice but to stutter-step with him. Her hip and upper thigh brushed against his groin—a sensation that was hard to ignore. Another step. Now his thigh was between hers, pressing against the crotch of her jeans.
“Barbie could’ve come to investigate with Ken if she’d wanted to,” he said, his warm breath ruffling her hair. “I wasn’t stopping my sister.”
“Maybe…maybe she could tell you’d have had a fit if she did.”
“Or maybe she secretly liked it.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth as he stopped moving backwards.
Such a smart ass. A crazy sexy smart ass that she wanted to kiss. Right here in the back of Second Time Around, between the men’s shirts and the vintage purses.
“Why did she protest then?” she asked, her voice husky.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Why did she keep asking me to play? It’s not like I hadn’t done it every other time before.”
Whiskey-colored eyes looked down at her, one brow slightly higher than the other as if he were challenging her to continue. He released her hands, but she kept them right where they were—pressed to the small of his back. Well, not exactly. She slipped them slightly lower to his tight, muscular ass.
With one finger, he lifted her chin. Something dark and delicious danced behind his eyes. “Don’t have an answer?”
She stared at his lips and licked hers. “I’m not exactly thinking of children’s games right now.”
“That’s good, Zara.” His tone was low, confident and so overtly sexy that it made her panties wet. He turned her so that it was her back against the wall, not his. “Because neither am I.”
Oh boy. They definitely weren’t talking games anymore.
He braced a hand on the wall next to her and leaned in close, his other hand at his side, not touching her, all relaxed and casual-like. He gazed down at her, scanning her face as if he were seeing her for the first time.
Her lips heated, tingled, felt swollen in response to his scrutiny. She hoped she met his approval. He’d been so hard to decipher these past few days.
With his free hand, he threaded his fingers through her hair. His eyes were dark, intense. Dipping his head, he kissed her lightly on the mouth, then trailed his lips down her neck. Her whole body quivered in response, and her nipples tingled. But just as she was about to wrap her arms around his neck, he pulled away, leaving her wanting so much more.
Oh…that’s right. A store. With people.
When they exited Second Time Around with their purchases, the smell of warm baked goods caused her to stop in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Are you hungry?” She looked longingly at the bakery with its forest green awning and neon cupcake sign in the window.
Nodding, he flashed a crooked grin her way. “I’m sure their stuff isn’t
half as good as yours, but yeah, I could eat something.”
A few minutes later, they were sitting at a table by the window with two espressos and a cupcake to share, just like that older couple when they’d first walked by. The thought made her smile.
“So tell me about your work,” Vince said, pulling the paper from the cupcake.
“At the library or with the sisters?”
“Both. And I want to know why you aren’t working at a bakery. I thought that was your dream—to open up a bakery one day.”
She thought about the kitchen back home. Her father, the big strong warrior, had taught her how to make bread. He’d take her shopping in the open-air market for supplies, then they’d come home and bake together. Her mother would sit at the kitchen table doing her needlepoint while her brother would be playing outside with his friends. It was a nice memory. Too bad it hadn’t lasted. After her father was gone, she continued baking as a way to honor his memory. It soon became a part of who she was.
She glanced over the counter to the back of the bakery and looked wistfully at the industrial ovens and equipment. She wondered what it would be like to use some of that. She’d often thought about getting a job at a bakery over here, but the early morning hours and childcare didn’t mix. She tried it once but it had ended in disaster when she had to bring a toddler with her at three in the morning. The library job was better in the long run anyway, given her work with the sisters. Baking at a bakery was something she did back in Cascadia.
“I just couldn’t figure out how to do it over here.”
“Everything changed that day,” he mused, twisting his paper cup.
Nodding, she licked some frosting from her thumb and noticed his eyes darken. He reached out, brushed a crumb from her chin.
“Did you have any help when you…ah…got here?” he asked cautiously. You couldn’t be too careful when talking about the two worlds. Some people over here refused to admit that there even were two worlds, a fact she found hard to believe.
She brightened. “Mariah was great. We stayed with her until I got on my feet. Found a job I liked that would support Darius and me, an apartment.”
“Was there nothing for you…over there?”
She looked up at him, unsure why he was asking. “At the time, no. Not really. Things with my stepfather got so bad that I left home. My mother has never met Darius.”
It was a rainy fall afternoon when she told her mother and stepfather that she was pregnant. She recalled how her stepfather had slapped her when she refused to tell him who the father was.
“Jesus, Zara. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been. I’m…” A shadow passed in front of his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. I wish I had been there for you.” His voice was so strained, he could barely finish.
She reached across the table, grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Things worked out for me, though. Darius is happy, and I’m doing some good in the world by helping the sisters.” She lowered her voice. “And I’m breaking gorgeous bad boys out of prison.”
His mouth quirked, but he remained silent. She took that as an opportunity to ask him a little more about his time in the Institute. “Did you have friends there?”
He played with a few stray cupcake crumbs on the table then nodded. “Guys just like me with their own stories to tell.”
She didn’t want to think about all the other destroyed lives. “What were your days like? Did you work on the chain gang everyday?”
His face hardened, and she sensed his walls going up. She’d pushed him too far.
“Yeah,” he said. His voice was so low that she strained to hear it. “But only on the days Talents weren’t being used as human guinea pigs for a sick motherfucker’s experimental drugs.”
***
A few hours later when they were back at Reckless, Zara walked past the break room on the way to Rand’s office and cringed. Even though the wall-mounted flat screen was on mute, she could see that the news vlogs were broadcasting stock images of cars that were the same make, model and color as hers. A witness had recently come forward with a description of a vehicle they’d seen in the backcountry area near where Vince had escaped. It felt as if a noose was tightening around her neck. First AIU and now this.
The door to Rand’s office was open. He was at his desk, hunched over a handheld, and poking the screen with a stylus. He wore a short sleeve T-shirt stretched tightly over his bulky tattoo-covered biceps, and his dark hair was tousled, as if he’d been frustrated and had been running his hands through it.
She knocked lightly, and he looked up. “Hey, Zara, come on in. Have a seat.” He pointed to a chair on the other side of his desk.
“Thanks.” She moved a stack of automotive catalogs and sat down, then handed him the paint chip samples he’d given her earlier. “I picked one. I’m hoping it’s not a premium color.”
She’d taken him up on his offer to paint her car, but she didn’t want to spend much.
“Already?” he asked, quirking a brow. “That was fast. I’m impressed.”
In truth, she didn’t give a crap what color her car was. All she cared about was that it was different from what it was now. She pointed to one of the grays. “I’m looking at this one.”
“That’s a standard one, all right.”
“Then let’s go with it.”
He buzzed the paint shop and told them the color she’d chosen.
“Thanks for being able to get it in so quickly. I really appreciate it.” Then she thought about the apartment, and how he’d offered Vince a job. Rand was taking a tremendous risk harboring the two of them here. “And everything else you’ve done to help us out.”
He waved off her gratitude. “It’s no problem. I’m glad to help.”
Rand had lost his wife in a terrible tragedy involving the Pacifican army, so his hatred of them ran deep. She’d learned that many of the men he employed had their own grievances with the army as well.
Zara noticed a framed photograph of Rand and a young girl. “Is that your daughter?”
“Yeah, that’s Caitlyn. She’s nine.”
“She’s adorable.” Zara thought about a similar photo she had of Darius and an intense longing gripped her once more. This was the longest they’d ever been apart.
As she rose to go, she saw a truck pull up in the parking lot. Perfect timing. It was probably a customer or a sales rep. But then she did a double take when the man climbing out of the vehicle had a tall, wiry-haired dog with him.
“Asher?”
Rand looked out the window. “Unless that’s his body double, I’d say yes,” he quipped.
How did she not know her brother was coming? What about the roadblocks? Did he have Darius with him?
She bolted out of Rand’s office, excited at the prospect of seeing her son, but as she rounded the corner, she ran headlong into a muscular brick wall.
“Ack!” She flailed her arms.
Vince gripped her elbows and set her back on her feet. She’d have landed on her butt if he hadn’t caught her. She looked up into his face, her heart pounding even more than it had been.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked.
“Asher just got here. He might have Darius.”
Vince’s mouth tightened.
“Come on.” She tugged on his hand but let it slip when he didn’t move fast enough.
She burst through the front door just as Asher was reaching for the handle.
“Where’s Darius?” she asked, looking past him in the direction of his truck. She could see through the windshield but didn’t spot anyone. “Isn’t he here? Is he all right…?”
Asher chuckled. “Miss him much?” She glared at him to cut the crap. “They’re fine, Z-boo. I left as soon as I heard some of the roadblocks had been lifted. Darius wasn’t up yet. Figured I might be able to get you back home before he got home from school. Didn’t want you driving your car.”
She tried
to hide her disappointment that she’d have to wait a while longer to see her son. “So you’ve been watching the news vlogs. I can’t believe someone saw us up there.”
“Maybe Rand can get rid of your car for you. Sell it. Part it out or something.”
She told him about it being painted, but he shook his head. “I don’t know, Zara. It’s still probably safer to dump it. You’ll have to change out the plates, scratch off the serial numbers. I’ll talk to Rand.”
The door she’d just come from slammed behind her.
Asher held out his hand. “Hey man, you must be—”
A flash of movement.
And then Vince punched Asher in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.
She gasped. “Vince, oh my God!”
Asher sprang to his feet, ready to throw a punch of his own. Conry, standing at Asher’s side, growled at Vince and bared his teeth.
“Stop!” She jumped between the two men and pressed her palms to Vince’s chest. His eyes were as dark as she’d ever seen them. She didn’t ever want to be on the receiving end. “This is Asher. My brother.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Then what the fuck was that for?” Asher groused, brushing the dirt from his clothes.
“For putting Zara in danger.”
“Me?” Asher was incredulous. “What the holy hell are you talking about?”
Vince turned to Zara, a muscle in his jaw flexing. “Has he always been such an idiot?”
Now it was Asher’s turn to lunge at Vince.
“Stop!” Her feet scuffled on the gravel in her attempt to push her brother away. “Both of you. You need to calm down. You’re acting like a couple of cocked-up schoolyard bullies.”
Before either man could respond, a car drove around the corner of the building. A customer, potentially. They couldn’t argue like this in front of ordinary Pacifican citizens, so she grabbed both men by the arm and dragged them across the parking lot to the entrance of the motocross park where no one would be able to hear them.
Bad Boys of the Night: Eight Sizzling Paranormal Romances: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set Page 57
