by Cassie Wild
I checked the time on my phone, stuffed inside the microscopic bag Suria had loaned me.
Not even eleven o’clock. We’d been here two hours.
It felt like twice that.
I eased back against the greenery, careful. It was a little prickly, but not too bad, and after a few seconds, I found a semi-comfortable position. I was tired enough that if I wasn’t careful, I might fall asleep.
That thought was still in my brain when voices jerked me awake sometime later.
I didn’t know what time it was, but I could still hear the party raging on behind me. Smothering a yawn, I pulled my phone out and checked the time. Maybe thirty minutes had passed since I’d come into the maze. It was cooler than it had been, chilly enough that goosebumps rose on my flesh as I stood and stretched.
I needed to get back inside and check in with Joelle and Suria.
The sound of voices came again.
Low and furtive.
I paused.
The soft-soled shoes I’d pulled on to wear with my outfit made no sound on the cobbled stones as I moved forward, head cocked as I listened to the voices. One of them sounded familiar. I had no idea why.
I edged closer and rounded the next bend, moving slowly as I searched for the speakers.
A slight break in the hedges allowed me to peer through, and I caught sight of two men.
One of them was dressed in a midnight black cape, a domino mask covering the upper half of his face.
The other looked like he was in the running to join Hell’s Angels, with his battered leather jacket, jeans, and motorcycle boots. As they continued to talk, a nagging sense of familiarity gnawed at me.
The one in the leather jacket said, “You want to try the product, you try the product, but you just get the one taste. I told you, it wasn’t going to be any more than that.”
The man in the mask huffed out a disdainful breath. “Very well.”
They continued to talk, and I watched as money exchanged hands, along with something else I couldn’t quite make out.
The guy in leather turned his face toward me, and the moonlight fell down, highlighting his features.
My breath lodged in my lungs as recognition hit.
Slowly, I backed away, taking care not to make any noise.
It was that guy from the bar – Croft. The one who’d been so crude with me.
As he tucked the money into his leather coat, knowledge bloomed inside me.
He was here selling drugs.
I had to get the hell out of there. I spun around and hurried to the entrance as he started to walk. If he was on his way out, I had only a few seconds to get far enough away that he wouldn’t see me.
I didn’t run. Nothing attracted attention as much as running, and I had a feeling that running from somebody like Croft would be about as smart as running from a wild dog. But I did move…as quickly as I could, out of the maze and up the path. I was almost to the broad, extended patio when I dared to glance back.
I never should have done it.
The second I did, his eyes slid my way.
For that one brief moment, our gazes locked.
I saw puzzlement enter his gaze.
Dragging my eyes away, I continued to walk.
Walk, I told myself. Walk, don’t run…
Had he recognized me?
I had no idea.
“Hey there, honey.”
Croft’s voice came to me in a wash of foul breath and beer as I slid out of the bathroom almost thirty minutes later.
My stomach roiled, but I kept a blank expression on my face as I looked up at him.
He’d been looking for me.
I’d been doing my best to avoid him – I was good at it, good at hiding and blending in with the shadows, but that only worked when people weren’t really looking for you. And he had been.
I was good at that, too, knowing when somebody was searching, watching, waiting.
Now, standing in front of him in a mostly deserted hall, sweat slicked my hands while fear turned my stomach into knots.
He leaned closer to me.
I edged back. In a cool voice, I asked, “Can I help you?”
He blinked at me. “Oh, you’re good at that…”
“Good at…?” I let the question trail off as I tried to cut around him.
He caught my upper arm, fingers digging in. I didn’t make a sound, and I didn’t let myself cringe away as he shoved his face into mine. “Playing the dumb cunt, that’s what. Had a lot of practice at it?” he jeered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Will you please let go?”
“What did you see out in the garden?” he demanded.
“The garden?” I blinked, doing my best ‘dumb cunt’ impression. “Other than people in costumes?”
He continued to watch me, his gaze searching. “You either really are good, or…”
I twisted my arm again, trying to break his hold. “Will you let me go?” I demanded.
He scowled at me for several long seconds. “If you’re not playing dumb on me, I guess we got nothing to worry about. But if you saw something…” he leaned in, tugging me closer so he could press his body to mine, “and you’re lying, you’ll wish you’d been nice to me when you saw me at the bar that day, sweet thing. And if you’re lying? I’ll find out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, and my voice shook a little. I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t control it.
“Maybe that’s the case. If it is–”
He didn’t have a chance to finish.
A familiar voice came from just behind me. “Is there a problem here?”
Croft let me go so fast, I stumbled. I fell right back into Kian, who steadied me with gentle hands.
Nicco cut around me, pausing by my side for just a second. He looked down at me, and a queer look crossed his face as he lifted a hand and brushed it across my arm. I looked down and saw the ugly red imprint from Croft’s fingers where he had gripped me so hard.
He looked away from me then, focusing on Croft. Stepping forward, he asked, “What’s the problem here?”
“No problem, man. I just thought we knew each other,” Croft said, giving him a genial smile.
“And that’s reason to put a mark on her?” Nicco’s voice was frosty, cold as ice. “Funny way to try and renew an acquaintance.”
Something ugly flickered in Croft’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “It was just a misunderstanding, man. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go.”
“I don’t–”
I grabbed Nicco’s arm before he could stop Croft. Knowing what little I did about the man, I suspected he was dangerous. I had no doubt Nicco could take care of himself, but I wouldn’t put it past Croft to be armed with a knife, a gun, or both.
“Let it go, Nicco,” I said, squeezing his wrist. “I’m fine.”
“See? The lady’s fine.” Croft glanced at me, and an unpleasant smile curled his lips.
I had no doubt what it meant. He didn’t know if he believed me or not, but if he decided he didn’t, he was going to come after me.
Twenty-One
Lane
Out in the main part of the bar, the music was blaring too loud and too hard for my tastes.
The band was halfway decent, but I just wasn’t in the mood for the noise.
Hell, the way things were going with me these days, I wasn’t in the mood for the noise, the booze, the people, the anything.
More and more, I looked for excuses to not come to the bar, to not hang around fellow members of the club. I’d turn into a hermit if I wasn’t careful, trapped inside my apartment like a brooding bear.
That was the main reason I’d made myself come tonight.
I’d only been down to the bar for non-business matters twice this week, and Zeb had told me that people were starting to ask what the deal was. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to do TU’s work for him and just push my own ass out of the club.
There was a huge part of me that just didn’t care, but I wasn’t giving up the bar without a fight – this place still, technically, belonged to my father, and I was going to keep on running it for him. TU might think he was in charge, but when it came to this place, he wasn’t.
Sitting in my father’s old office only made me more resolute.
TU used this place more often than I did, claiming he needed space for “club business.” I told him he could use the space, but the door had to stay open because the bar was still a business that had to be run – paychecks had to be cut, bills had to be paid, and I wasn’t sitting out at the bar to do it.
He wasn’t interested in doing the day to day shit, and the few years he’d helped Mom with it until I was old enough to take over hadn’t been good ones for the place.
I’d come up here almost an hour ago, seeking silence and some peace. Now, with my feet on the desk and a mostly empty beer in my hand, I contemplated how much longer I was going to stay and pretend interest in the party going on outside these doors.
I wasn’t even out there.
But if I went home, I knew what I’d do. Sit around. Drink. Think about Trice. Brood.
I could do that here just as easily, and since I was in a bar, I felt a little less pathetic drinking here than I did at home.
A knock on the door had me kicking my legs off the desk, but before I could get up to open the door, the person on the other side opened it herself.
I bit back a groan at the sight of Melina standing there.
She was dressed as a Playboy Bunny, her costume revealing every dangerous curve. She slid into the room and closed the door behind her, leaning back against it as she gave me a conspiratorial smile. “There you are…I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Did you need something?” I asked, dropping back down into the seat and kicking my legs back up onto the scarred surface of the desk.
She giggled. “Well, you, for one.” She locked the door.
Irritation twisted inside.
I thought I’d already made it clear to her that I wasn’t interested, but she wasn’t too good at picking up on things, apparently. So maybe I needed to stop being subtle.
“I’m not interested, Melina,” I said shortly as she started my way.
She paused for a second, the continued on toward the desk.
I stayed where I was, even when she leaned back against the heavy wooden fixture at her back. She slid a hand down her belly, then slowly upward, along the midline of her body and straight on up. Once she reached her lips, she traced the lower one slowly, watching me with a seductive smile. “You don’t even know what I’m offering, Lane. How can you say you’re not interested?”
Judging by the way she was watching me, it was pretty easy to figure out what she was offering, so I didn’t bother to respond.
She shoved off the desk and reached for the skinny straps of her bodysuit, tugging them down until her breasts sprang free.
Cursory interest stirred in me, but I didn’t even bother to look down. “I said, I’m not interested.”
She laid a hand on my thigh and eased closer. “I bet I can change that.”
“No.” Catching her wrist, I squeezed gently and tugged her hand away. “I told you before, and I’ve been polite. I’m not going to keep being polite about it, Melina. I’m not interested. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not in a week, or a month, or a year.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and she jerked away from me, yanking up the straps of the bodysuit, covering herself once more.
“What the fuck is your problem?” she demanded. “Am I not good enough for you?”
“Let me put it this way…this is one messy quadrangle I won’t be a party to.” Kicking my feet off the desk, I stood. “You’re fucking TU. TU is fucking my mother. I’m not getting in the middle of any of that.”
She gaped at me. “You don’t want to fuck me because I’ve been with TU? So what?”
It wasn’t just TU. It was the fact that the only reason she wanted to be with me – or TU, for that matter – was because of our positions in the club. But I didn’t bother to point that out because she wouldn’t get it. People like her just didn’t.
“I’ve already made my position clear.” Angling my chin toward the door, I said, “Now it’s time for you to leave.”
With a furious glare, she turned on one high-heeled platform shoe and stalked to the door, her barely covered ass swaying from side to side.
I waited until she was gone, then finished off my beer and tossed it into the trash. I needed to use the toilet, then decide if I wanted to hang around any longer or get lost.
Getting lost sounded more and more appealing, especially after the run-in with Melina.
I was gone less than five minutes, but when I came back out of the bathroom and headed up the steps to my dad’s old office, the door was closed.
Swearing, I moved closer and rested a hand against it. I didn’t knock, though. There was only one person who’d be in there – TU. I could just barely make out his voice as I stood there, debating on whether I wanted to go sit at the bar or just go home.
Another voice echoed through the door, this one clearer, and closer.
Croft.
I curled my lip. My antipathy toward him had grown in the past month, and he’d picked up on it.
More than a few times, he’d gotten in my face, and there would come a time when I wouldn’t brush him off. I kept hearing what he’d said to Trice, and it infuriated me.
I kept seeing the way he’d looked at her–
“…that bitch, Trice…”
I stiffened, almost certain I’d imagined things. Swearing under my breath, I put my ear up against the door and focused.
“…I knew she was familiar. I seen her before, when I’d go over to that Gypsy fuck, you know the one who got arrested last month?”
Narrowing my eyes, I continued to listen.
“You talking about Gabriel Marks? You mean you’ve seen her with him? She’s with that sorry old sack of shit?”
“Nah, man,” Croft said. “I think she’s related to him or something. But I knew I’d seen her before. It was her legs. I never forget a pair of legs. Anyway, with Gabriel still being in jail and all, I did some calling around, trying to figure out why she might have been over here.”
“Your imagination is running away again, Croft,” TU said.
“I don’t think so.” Croft sounded pissed. “I called one of the guys we got who works at the DA’s office. He says she’s testifying against Gabriel. What if she was here spying on us? Trying to get info on the deal we had going with him?”
Deal? Who the hell was Gabriel?
I was about to push the door open and demand to know what they were talking about, but then TU spoke again, and his words made my blood run cold.
“Look, if you’re that worried about her, just…deal with her.”
“Deal with her…how?” Croft asked.
“However in the hell you want. I don’t want to know. But quit bothering me about it.”
“Will do. All I got to do is find out where she is…I can take care of that tomorrow.” Croft sounded smug.
“Then do it and shut the hell up.”
Twenty-Two
Trice
The feel of the pavement under my feet, the wind teasing at my hair, even the burn of my thighs as I pushed myself a little harder was a welcome, comforting thing.
Back at the house, I felt like a fifth wheel, although it wasn’t exactly a good comparison. There was Kian and Suria and Joelle, and it shouldn’t have been a problem for me to be there – I was close to my cousins – but for some reason, I felt out of place.
I hated it too. Because I knew where the discontent was coming from, or at least part of it. I saw Kian and Suria together, happy. A unit. And I was happy for them. I was happy for my cousin, so happy for her. But I wasn’t part of that unit.
I’d come to cherish the minutes I had to myself when I left to go r
unning.
I’d used some of my tips to buy the first new pair of running shoes I’d had in nearly three years.
And I’d bought a good pair – not a cheap pair.
The difference was amazing.
I thought I might even be able to do ten miles or more if I could build my endurance back up.
And with endurance, hopefully, I’d get my energy back. I’d been dragging for the past few weeks, and while part of me wondered if I wasn’t dealing with some depression issues, the rest of me was just too tired to really care.
Since I’d started running again, at least I’d been able to sleep better at night so maybe things would balance themselves back out.
And soon.
Gabriel’s pre-trial hearings started soon. If he didn’t take a deal before everything got started, I’d have to testify against him. I was supposed to meet with the DA in a few days.
I wasn’t looking forward to the meeting. The DA struck me as somebody who was almost as cold and ruthless as Ephraim was.
If I testified, I was told they might be able to work things out so Mom didn’t end up in jail. It felt like emotional blackmail, and part of me wondered if I should even care, but immediately upon thinking that, guilt kicked in.
She was my mother.
Maybe she hadn’t been a good one, but it didn’t change the fact that she was my mom.
A mom who tried to give you away to the highest bidder, a cynical voice reminded me.
Not that I needed reminding. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was that why I was even doing this? Hoping that maybe if I did something to prove to her that I loved her, she’d finally start loving me?
“Fat chance,” I muttered.
I was starting to breathe harder and hated how out of shape I felt, even though I’d only taken a few weeks off from running. And it wasn’t like I’d planned on it or even wanted to – being locked in my room then trying to escape an unwanted marriage had thrown my exercise routine into turmoil.
