Where Demons Hide

by A. M. Brooks

  I turn my head to the side, hoping he can’t see the need in my eyes. “I hate yo—” Jay swallows my words with his mouth, his tongue reaching in, and pushing them back down my throat.

  He kisses me until my head spins and my lips are bruised. He’s savage with my body, yanking the leggings down my legs while shoving the material of my hoodie up to my chin. Need, lust, and anger swirling together inside my chest, I waste no time in grabbing the edge of his jeans and shoving them down with his boxers until his long, thick cock springs free. My nerves are on edge when he pins his dark eyes on me. I wet my lips, enjoying the way his pupils dilate, following the motion of my tongue. His face hardens before he rips the thin fabric of my thong, tearing the material from my body. A cool breeze whispers across my bare pussy, my legs turn to jello and a rush of warmth gushes in my core.

  Before I can breathe again, he slams his cock into me, filling me to the hilt. His body shoves mine across the bed, taking my sheets and blankets with us. My foot is caught in my leggings and the material of his jeans rub the insides of my thighs raw and I love it. Jay takes my mouth in a hot-searing kiss. He keeps one of my hands locked above us while my free hand grips the top of his hair, trapping it between my fingers. Animalistic noises are ripped from deep within his chest. My moans are in unison to the glide and thrust of his body into mine.

  My body thrashes against his, chasing the brewing orgasm inside my core. I grip my legs tighter around Jay forcing his pelvic bone to hit the sensitive bundle of nerves building my climax. His long fingers pinch and pull at my nipples through the lacy material of the bra I’m still wearing because neither of us bothered to take it off.

  “Oh god, Jay.” My voice is hoarse, and I stroke my tongue across the shell of his ear. His body speeds up, his lips coast up my throat, biting, sucking, and leaving a hot path of moisture on their way back up to my lips.

  “Fuck, you feel so good,” he tells me between pulls of my lips. “How badly do you want to come on my cock?”

  “Please, Jay,” I beg, not caring, I just want what he can give me. Twisting my hips, bucking against him, I plead with my devil above me. “Please make me come.”

  My words hang in the air for two more thrusts of Jay’s hips before he roars to life, dipping his hand between our bodies, stroking and pinching the bundle of flesh. When my climax hits, it’s enough to buckle my body and force a lust-filled cry from my swollen lips. I barely come down before Jay pulls out of me, leaving a trail of fluids between my thighs. Without speaking, his eyes cut to mine, holding me hostage in his angry gaze. He slides his jeans up and fixes his long t-shirt before grabbing the baseball hat off the floor. Wordlessly, he slides his shoes back on before flinging open my bedroom door and stalking down the hallway.

  My body shakes with emotion as I pull myself into a sitting position on the bed. I frantically sprint out of my bedroom after him. “Jay!” I call right as he disappears out the door, slamming it so hard the locks rattle.

  A new round of sobs escape me and my knees threaten to buckle. I can only take so much and I’ve really reached my breaking point. I said hurtful words to Jay that I can’t take back. On the other hand, he also betrayed my trust and lied to me since the day he first stopped into Señor Locos.

  I want to be on his side.

  I want him to look after me.

  I want to trust him unconditionally.

  Jay evokes a side of me I thought had died. The ability to feel and to be hopeful. I don’t know if I love him. I sure as hell crave him, want him, and even enjoy his caveman tendencies and aggression. My heart hammers in my chest, aching for what we could have if we could just get our shit together and stop the lies.

  Bone tired and weak, I force myself to relock the doors before shuffling to the bathroom. I’m unable to stop the silent tears and I seek comfort from their burning path down my heated cheeks to the open bites on my lips. My icy blue eyes connect with the girl in the mirror. She looks broken except for the flush in her cheeks and chest, proving she can come back to life. I slip under the steaming hot water, soaking the tension from my sore muscles. I stay there until the stream starts to cool. Wrapping my body into the biggest towel I own, I finally step back into my room. I sigh before throwing back the covers, not bothering to clear the clutter from the floor, and slide between my sheets. Jay’s scent lingers in the fabric around me, lulling me into the sleep my body demands.

  “Where did you hear that?” Trent’s voice turns icy, his impressive frame frozen. I watch his lips inhale and exhale a cloud of smoke into the chilled air. After the other night and at Seth’s urging, I sought him out at Scar. Sneaking onto the land had been more of a challenge than anything. Trent rarely, if ever, made an appearance during the races. Now I knew he preferred to watch the action from above, presiding like a king over his subjects from the Look Out.

  Trent didn’t look surprised to see me. If anything, he acted like he was expecting me all night. I wondered briefly if Seth told him to look out for me or if Trent had talked to Jay.

  “Which name?” I scoff, wrapping my arms around my waist, “They seemed pretty interchangeable. Toni was really freaked out though when they were discussing Alverez and Reyes.”

  “What about the other one?” he inquires, still unmoving from this spot. Trent’s gaze is unfocused, zoned out while gazing at the dancing flames from the bonfire below.

  “Mamacita?” I question, almost missing the slight flicker in his gaze. “That name seemed to be more used in regards to the club, like they were waiting for her or wanted her to be there,” I answer, biting the inside of my cheek. I wracked my memories all morning trying to remember each and every detail that wasn’t blurry from the car ride there to the car ride home.

  “Did you see her?” he asks, taking a long drag in before throwing the still burning bud to the ground.

  “No,” I answer automatically. Even being drugged, I would have known if I’d seen her. The way the guys acted, it was as if she was the golden ticket. Trent is silent again, his forehead creased in thought. He slides an older model phone from his jacket, hitting the button once.

  “Raul Alverez has resurfaced in Sin City,” Trent relays into the phone. His tone is laced with boredom yet his posture is wound tight. I tilt my head, observing him. Trent’s outer exterior screams danger, his movement mirrors those of a predator, and still his eyes laugh when they connect with mine. He knows I was sizing him up and I don’t bother hiding it. Fewer surprises, the better.

  “No.” He smiles, almost chuckling. “I got eyes on her. Relax,” he says. My pulse speeds up when I hear Jay’s deep voice on the other line. I miss what he says and their conversation is quick, less than half a minute altogether.

  “Causing trouble again, Palmer?” Trent grins, shaking his head. “I don’t know who’s worse sometimes.”

  Ignoring that comment, I roll my eyes. A comfortable silence stretches between us while we’re both lost in thought. Gathering my courage, I confide in Trent the last piece of information I have to give. “I think I was drugged.”

  His face turns toward me, his eyebrows raise in question. “Think?”

  “No.” I shake my head slowly. “I was. I had a buzz, but not enough to make me blackout like that. I had dreams…” Sighing, I turn and catch his ocean blues with my icy ones. “When I woke up, Toni and Joey were talking about it. Well, arguing about it. That’s when they started talking about Alverez and how he was telling him to make sure I wouldn’t remember anything. Also, how Reyes wouldn’t be happy and that their deal largely relied on that person.”

  “What do you remember last?” He turns to me, eyes piercing.

  “I was dancing. I went back to the booth and took a sip of a new drink, then everything went dark.” My voice comes out hollow. I’ve replayed the events in my head over and over again. There is something about saying the words out loud about what happened to me that makes it more real.

  “Who was there?” he questions, finally sounding like the underco
ver cop he is.

  “Men mostly, a few women. Like arm candy women. They looked higher than kites, pupils were huge, and they were extremely clingy.” I say the word, puckering my face as if I ate something sour.

  “Does Jay know?” Trent asks, lighting up a new cigarette.

  “We’re not really speaking,” I answer truthfully, shrugging my shoulders.

  “No shit,” Trent replies sarcastically. I flip my middle finger at him which only earns me a harsh laugh. “Seth told you then, huh?”

  “He showed me,” I acknowledge. “This only brings me back to square one. Every time I think I can trust someone or confide in them some deep, hidden, secret rears its head. I’m exhausted. I just want to know what happened to Blake and why. Everything else can just go fuck itself.”

  “Look,” Trent says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t do all this feeling shit. I said my piece last time. If you aren’t sure whose honest then don’t trust anyone. You and McCall though… Blake flipped out initially. He trusted McCall. McCall didn’t plan on having those feelings about you though either, and I think they both got to a place of respect about that before we even got to Vegas that day. They tabled their differences because in the long run, you were what was important to both of them.”

  “For not doing feelings you sure had some flowery phrases in there,” I answer, making a gagging noise. In reality, Trent’s little pep talk moved the earth beneath my feet again.

  “You and McCall need to figure your shit out,” he says, clamping the cigarette stick between his teeth. Trent’s hand reaches out and pushes my hair away from my neck. My cheeks tinge pink, Jay’s bites are very visible, while I keep my face impassive. He chuckles and lets my hair fall back into place.

  The races start to die down below, the crowd’s tell-tale cheering signaling that they’re over. “Take the south path back. No one goes that way,” Trent instructs before blending back into the shadows. Shivers cascade down my body. Twisting my fingers into the sleeves of my brown leather jacket, I slowly make my way to the southern path, avoiding boulders and people along the way. It’s a quick jog to my car from there and I drive away easily, finally able to relax.

  About a mile down the road, my grip eases off the steering wheel, driving back into town.

  “Keep going straight.” His voice is husky and smooth in my ear, instantly sending my heart pounding against my rib cage. It’s been a day without a word from Jay and now we’re sharing the small space of my car. His fingers flex at the side of my neck where he holds me in place, sending shock waves over my nerves. My pulse leaps under his touch, fire spreads rapidly throughout my body and pools in my core.

  “Where?” I choke on the word, swallowing past the instant heat and need coursing in my veins.

  He places a feather-light kiss right below my ear. “Stay on this road, north. I’ll tell you when to turn.” Unable to speak, I nod and try to calm my breathing back down.

  “Turn the music on, Blaise,” he instructs, my name rolls off his tongue and sends butterflies off in my stomach.

  I slip in my favorite CD and adjust the volume. Jay’s grip eases off my neck. His knees brush against the back of my seat as he slumps down again. “Feels like driving with Blake,” Jay mutters, but I hear him.

  “It’s his playlist.” My eyes search the rearview mirror for a glimpse of Jay. He’s hidden in the shadows and I can barely make out the smirk on his lips.

  “Late nineties and early two-thousands rock was his favorite. He always joked that music after that was a waste. He also preferred making his own CD rather than using Pandora, iHeartRadio or Spotify,” I tell him. Jay doesn’t respond, indicating to me he already knew.

  My throat thickens with emotion. “As a rule of thumb, I don’t listen to the radio, ever. It’s garbage and full of ads. I prefer to use an app to find music that fits my mood. That’s where all my playlists come from.” Silence hangs between us, our breathing in sync. Three Doors Down’s “When I’m Gone” plays in the background.

  “I didn’t know that,” Jay responds, his voice low and thoughtful. My heart soars again.

  We don’t speak the rest of the drive. The miles fly past along with the time. The entire CD plays and I start it over one more time before Jay instructs me to take an exit. The clock reads quarter to two in the morning. We’ve been driving for an hour and a half and my adrenaline is wearing out. I’m exhausted and now I have no idea where I am.

  “Take a right at the stop sign,” Jay instructs from the back. His voice is scratchy and gruff, I wonder if he fell asleep. Jerk.

  “Take this road down until you hit Mason Street then turn left.” I follow his direction until we hit a gated development.

  “Where are we?” With the street light illuminating my car, I finally catch his eyes in the mirror.

  “I stay here when I’m not needed at the Vegas office,” he replies.

  “So you live here?” my questions unanswered.

  “Here.” He hands me a badge that I hold in front of the screen. A few seconds later, the gate unlocks and swings open. Cautiously, I maneuver us through the gate and follow the winding road.

  “Take a left here, then mine is third on the right,” Jay tells me. The row of homes are all the same, tan with a reddish hue, white trim, and green turf instead of grass on quarter-acre lots.

  “Geez,” I mumble. “I wouldn’t want to stay here either.”

  Jay grunts, opening his door and climbing out before I even shift into park. I grit my teeth, holding back when I really just want to tell him to go to hell. Is this considered kidnapping? Or carjacking?

  “What are we doing here?” I ask once we reach the door.

  “Talking,” he answers, pinning me with a dark glance that sets my nerves on edge. Jay enters the code into the keypad before it unlocks. “Don’t touch anything,” he warns before we walk in.

  “Right,” I respond sarcastically. We step into the main room and then everything makes sense. If the loft was a surveillance camp, then this house has to be the hub of operations. All windows are blacked out, sheets of clear plastic wrap hang from the ceilings. Seven different monitors sit in a clump, each screen depicting a different screen.

  “Oh my god!” I gasp, my face turning pale. On one of the screens is Marco’s home, a party is still in full swing. The footage is of the back room where the guys usually gather. My eyes dart to the next, showing footage outside Stone and Antonio’s duplex. A few cars are parked outside, none of them I recognize. The others are of various other locations, including the front of my own house.

  Jay clears his throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. We run the feed here and our IT experts go over the audio. Over here...” He directs me to the area where the kitchen should be. “Any evidence that has been collected, footage, and stills go on this timeline.”

  My eyes follow where he points along a red string from cupboard to cupboard. Dates, times, pictures, addresses and sometimes numbers are all marked with bright colored sticky notes. It’s a giant floor to ceiling map and collage. I’ve never seen anything like it. “What do the ones in red mean?” I ask, paying close attention to the dates and times.

  “This one here is the time and location of Blake’s cell phone when he called me to change the plan, this one here is the incoming and outgoing calls between Seth and Blake, and this is the last call and location that Blake made to me. Each is time-stamped so we know how long the call was open. And these ones in green are the communication logs, and surveillance from La Flor hotel, your home, the loft, Garcia’s condo, and the only road camera from the last stoplight before hitting town. Basically, this is the life of this case.” His chest heaves with a sigh.

  “Some of these dates go back over five years ago,” I comment, my eyes dragging over everything, trying to commit to memory. “No way, is that Trent?” I ask, pointing at the younger version of the man, a cocky smile playing on his lips while he stands next to a pimped out motorbike.

&
nbsp; “Yeah,” Jay responds. “Before he lost his sponsorship.”

  “That was because of this case.” I quirk my eyebrow at him. Jay nods his head yes. No wonder Trent had a chip on his shoulder.

  My eyes dart to the billboard and the three photos in the center. The one on the left is of a middle-aged man, black hair, cropped at the sides and slicked to the side. His goatee is peppered with grey. The man is walking to a parked, blacked-out SUV and carrying a large briefcase. His suit screams money and designer brands. His face would be considered handsome, silver fox, if it weren’t for the stone-cold evil of his eyes. “Who’s that?” I ask even though I have my suspicions. He’s almost familiar, like a distant echo of a memory.

  “Raul Alverez,” Jay confirms, which sends goosebumps down my arms. “His daughter.” Jay motions toward the next picture. “Scarlet Reyes.”

  Reyes and Alverez, the two names I’ve been dwelling on since my return.

  “He’s her father, but why do they have different names?” I ask. The woman in the picture is stunning. Her long dark hair reaches to her waist, dark arched eyebrows are perfectly shaped over large brown eyes. Her lips are painted a deep red that complements her skin tone. She looks relaxed, the picture intimate in a way.

  “Bad blood,” Jay responds, shrugging. “She took her mother’s maiden name, I guess.”

  “This picture wasn’t taken with surveillance. She’s looking at the camera. Who took it?” My curiosity getting the best of me.

  “The poor sucker whose career she helped destroy,” Jay replies. Obviously there are harsh feelings there, too.

  “Wait!” I exclaim, pieces falling in place. “Reyes is the one who set up Trent?”

  “Perceptive.” Jay smiles, hip checking me before leading me to the staircase.

  “No way,” I go on. “That really explains so much. So that means they’re cartel then, doesn’t it? Then the last picture without the face, how do they fit in?”