Play at Soul's Edge

by Sophia Amador

  He waited.

  “Adrian. You’re a member, aren’t you.”

  “A member? Of what?” he drawled, the picture of nonchalance. He unbuttoned the top of her blouse and stroked her soft skin. He hooked one finger under her apron and ran it back and forth over the warm silk of her breast. “Let’s see. What if we took everything off of you except this apron and rolled you in sugar?”

  Elisa’s lips parted and her breathing quickened. But she took hold of his wrists and held them. “That gang. Tenebras. I saw you talking to them. I heard what you said to them.” Her nostrils flared. She took a step forward and stood toe to toe with him. “Don’t lie to me!”

  He leaned back and put some space between them, studying her face. This was the critical moment. He had to persuade her. He had to.

  He kept his voice sincere and soothing. “I apologize for misleading you.” He took a deep breath and his voice became sad. “But I was so afraid I would lose you if you knew, and I couldn’t bear that.”

  She froze, conflicting emotions passing across her face like clouds in a high storm. Her expression softened. “Adrian, I—you have to explain.”

  “I promise I’ll explain everything. I’ll tell you the whole truth. There’s a reason behind everything I did.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Everything,” he whispered against her ear. He flattened himself against her, body to body, length to length, and her pulse accelerated.

  They drew apart, and she wet her lips and drew her arms together, unconsciously deepening the valley between her breasts.

  His heart leapt in his chest. She was wavering. Now was the time to go straight to the primal urges, the deep-seated desires he had been the first to waken in her.

  There was nothing like sexual arousal to sweep away rationality—or doubt.

  To his surprise, he felt something odd. Unpleasant. Did he want to manipulate the woman he cared for like this?

  It was wrong.

  He shook his head. He had never used that word except in derision before.

  He pushed away the tiny voice.

  “So you admit you’re a gang member?” Elisa’s eyes were wide.

  He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t.

  He moved closer, his eyes holding hers prisoner. He tipped his head and allowed his eyes to swirl and darken with lust, noting her tiny intake of breath, her deepening flush.

  “And if I am?” He shrugged. “You already knew I wasn’t the good boy I appear to be,” he whispered, lowering his lips to hers. He kissed the left side of her mouth, then the right. She trembled under his touch, but made no move to push him away. Instead, she arched her back and lifted her hips into his.

  “I’m not a good person, Elisa. But maybe being good isn’t everything, is it?” He brushed his fingers over her nipples, feeling them harden under the rough fabric of the apron. “What did being good ever do for you?” He ran his fingers over the scar on her hand.

  She jerked her hand back as if burned. “Nothing.” Her eyes glittered up at him. She lay back against the wall and bared her neck to him, panting, every part of her body softening and opening.

  He took her lips in his, driving his tongue deep into her mouth. Hesitant at first, she kissed him back, her tongue curling gently under his as he took command of her body.

  “So sweet,” he murmured. “I’m going to lick you all over, starting with here—” He leaned in and glided his tongue along her cheek, across her lips, and down her throat. “And here.” His lips hovered at her ear. “You already have powdered sugar inside the shell of your ear,” he whispered.

  Her breathing was quick. “Mrs. Rojas will come back any second.”

  “No, she won’t. She always takes exactly forty-five minutes to make the deposits. That’s plenty of time.” He was so hungry for her he could barely stand it. With a single pull, he untied the bow at the back of her apron and slid her blouse off her shoulders. Her bare flesh was rosy in the sweet warm air of the kitchen, and the black lace bra just barely contained the swell of her generous breasts.

  Her lips were swollen, lush and shiny as sugared cherries. She gazed up at him, those once-innocent eyes dark with lust. A smirk crooked the corner of his mouth. “You knew from the beginning I would corrupt you, Elisa,” he said. “Admit it. It’s why you said yes to me in the first place.”

  She bit her lip and said nothing. Then she reached out and grabbed his shirt with eager hands.

  He unfastened her bra with one hand and let the softness of her breasts spring free. She stood bare-chested and wanton in the middle of the stainless steel kitchen, a blush spreading across her cheeks and down her throat as he undressed her, peeling the layers of fabric away from her body languorously, taking his time to caress every inch of her exposed flesh.

  Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way across her satin skin and sucked one nipple into his mouth. She rocked her hips into his. His mouth feasted on her milky expanse of skin.

  “Now you’re going to let me have you right here, in the middle of your employer’s kitchen, precisely because you know you shouldn’t.”

  Elisa drew in her breath and her gaze transformed to molten gold. She lifted her face up to his, something unspeakable and wanton clouding her eyes. “Do whatever you want with me.”

  18

  Adrian

  THERE WAS A POUNDING on the bakery door.

  Elisa stood up so fast her head banged into Adrian’s chin. Her face burned bright red, her eyes wide.

  “Ignore it,” he said.

  She shook her head. She was already throwing on her clothes with trembling hands. “No, no, I have to—we shouldn’t be doing this, it’s a health code violation.” She looked around frantically, found her shirt and buttoned it up.

  Adrian leaned against the wall and watched, amused.

  The hammering continued. “Hey!” called a voice from outside. “I need to pick up my order.”

  Elisa tied her apron. “Do I look okay?” she asked Adrian.

  He gave her a slow once-over from head to toe. “Perfect.”

  She blushed, and then ran to the front. The bell jingled. “I’m so sorry, sir, please come in.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” a male voice whined. “I was waiting for five minutes.”

  Adrian walked to the front counter and gave one of his charming smiles to the customer. “Why don’t you let me ring you up while Elisa gets your order, sir?”

  “After that poor service, you should give me a discount,” the man huffed. “I should report you to your manager,” he shouted at Elisa, who was running around in the back gathering his order.

  Adrian took the man’s credit card and ran his fingers over the raised letters on the front, memorizing them. “I’ll need to see a picture ID, please.” His eyes raked over the man’s face, and he smiled, a bit too pleasantly. “All finished, sir.”

  Elisa handed a full bag to the man. After he left, a line creased her forehead. “I hope he’s not too mad,” she said. “I don’t want to lose Mrs. Rojas a customer.”

  Adrian bestowed a dark smile on her. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  His cell phone buzzed and he frowned. His thumbs flicked over the keyboard. “I’m sorry, Elisa, there’s an emergency I have to deal with.” He drew her close and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Forgive me? And we’re still on for tonight, aren’t we? This new club is supposed to be the hottest thing.”

  She knit her brow. “It’s too expensive. Those downtown clubs are for rich kids, not us.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Why shouldn’t we have whatever we want?”

  “Adrian—”

  “I have money tonight.”

  “You always have money,” she said, frowning.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  Elisa

  Elisa walked home from the bakery, her shoulders in knots. It got dark early this time of year in Rockton, and a chill rain had begun to fall, raising a damp odor of gasoline and oil from the asphalt. She wrap
ped her rain jacket more tightly around her body.

  How could she go out with a gang member? It went against everything she had been brought up to value.

  But the thought of breaking up with Adrian was even worse.

  An all-too-familiar dark Plymouth Valiant pulled up beside her in the gloom, wipers swishing. The window rolled down. “Hey, darling,” Rory called to her. “Let me give you a ride home.”

  She only hesitated a moment. She was cold, and he was Adrian’s best friend, wasn’t he?

  He had the heater on full, and her tense muscles eased in the sudden warmth. She reclined against the velveteen headrest. Rory grinned. “Kind of a bad night, isn’t it?” He pulled out into traffic. “You look a little tense. Is there anything wrong?”

  She stiffened. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

  “Have it your way.” They stopped at a red light. He palmed the steering wheel and took out a joint. “Do you mind? I’ve had a stressful week too.”

  She shrugged. She’d be a hypocrite if she scolded someone about breaking the law when her boyfriend had just admitted he was a gang member. She twisted to face the window.

  His lighter flared, and a tangy, burning scent filled the car.

  “What’s it feel like?” she asked suddenly.

  “What?” he asked, exhaling.

  “Smoking.” She gestured at his joint.

  His eyes crinkled almost shut and his mouth stretched in a wide grin. “It feels awesome, so relaxing. And hey, no stumbling around like with whiskey.”

  If she was now the girlfriend of a gang member, she should do something reckless. “Can I have a hit?”

  His mouth dropped open in an O of surprise. “Why Elisa, don’t you know that’s illegal?”

  She scowled. “Don’t be an idiot. Let me try.”

  “You do look twitchy. Maybe it’ll help you relax.”

  He watched, grinning, as she awkwardly sucked on the joint and coughed. The smoke was harsh and burned all the way down her throat. “You have to hold it in your lungs to get the full effect,” he said.

  Elisa coughed some more. “I don’t feel anything.” Other than a sore throat.

  He laughed and pulled out a paper bag wrapped around a bottle. “If you’re going to be bad, might as well go all the way. You’ll certainly feel it if you have a little of this.”

  She took a swig right from the mouth of the bottle.

  “Oh, someone’s gonna enjoy that party tonight.”

  Adrian

  A cold splatter of rain dimpled the puddles tucked between uneven sidewalk slabs on the gloomy side street. Adrian skirted the pools of light cast by streetlamps and strode towards a flickering red neon sign that spelled out “BAR.” He pulled open the heavy door and breathed in a damp, warm lungful of stale smoke and cheap beer.

  Passing a few silent patrons, Adrian ambled past the bar stools that had worn holes into the linoleum and slid into a booth at the very back. Two minutes after his order was taken, a tall man with blond hair tucked into a black raincoat dropped into the seat across from him.

  Adrian tilted his head in greeting and continued sipping his whisky. “Schwartz.”

  “Grant’s Scotch, double, on the rocks,” Schwartz said to the waitress who appeared to take his order. He waited until she had disappeared through the swinging door. “We want you to step up your levels of distribution.”

  Adrian took a sip from his glass and set it down on the Formica table with a clink. “I don’t want my operation to become overextended. I’ve been thinking of cutting back.”

  “You don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  Adrian raised one brow. “Oh? I agreed to work with you as a partner, not a subordinate.”

  Schwartz stared down his long nose. “I’m not so sure that’s the case anymore.”

  “I’m an independent operator,” Adrian said coolly. “You need me, not the other way around.”

  “But you see, we finally have what we need to bring the brilliant Adrian Salas under our control. Permanently.” His smile was cruel.

  Adrian scoffed, but he didn’t take his eyes off Schwartz. “No one controls me.”

  “Leverage.” Schwartz tossed a photo across the table. “Perhaps you’ve heard of the word?”

  Adrian’s eyes dipped to the photo. It was Elisa at the door of her apartment building, clearly taken that very morning. His heart began to pound, but he kept his face impassive. He forced his eyes away from the image and back to Schwartz.

  “So? You should know me better than that.”

  “We now have a way to reach her anytime, anywhere. To snuff out her life from a distance. You will be unable to protect her.”

  Adrian’s hands clenched under the table. “She is nothing to me.”

  “We want you to double the amount of product you move starting next month.”

  “You don’t want me as an enemy.”

  Schwartz stood. He sneered down at Adrian. “You are so arrogant. Remember, you are only a boy. And now you’ve gotten in over your head. I suggest you do the intelligent thing and obey us.” His nostrils flared. “Think on it carefully. Do you really want to pay the price?”

  Schwartz strode out of the bar. The door slammed behind him, a swirl of cold damp air in his wake.

  Alone at the table, Adrian stared fixedly at the far wall, turning his glass in his hands.

  He had selfishly only considered the effect Elisa had on him.

  It hadn’t occurred to him that he would draw her into his darkness, that the gravitational pull of his black hole would overwhelm her bright star. But he should have known. What a blind and selfish idiot he had been.

  He didn’t know the nature of the threat Schwartz was making. Some slow-acting poison? An agent within his own gang? But it didn’t matter.

  It was his fault. He was the one who had placed her at risk.

  His chest heaved. His fingers clenched slowly on his shot glass. No. He couldn’t let her be harmed.

  No matter what.

  The Traitor’s Kiss was the newest—and hottest—club in downtown Rockton. The line snaked halfway around the block, and two huge bouncers stood at the wide doors checking IDs.

  Adrian sauntered to the front of the line and was waved in. Inside it was all dark elegance and decadent ambience, antique mirrors lining the walls and pounding music pulsing across the dance floor. Adrian made his way through the gyrating crowd to the VIP lounge at the back.

  There, the beat was more muted. Bodies writhed in the dim light, draped over brocaded divans scattered across the plush carpet. Rory sat in the far corner on a settee, and beside him, slumped in a boneless pile, lay Elisa.

  Adrian strode across the room. “What’s wrong with her?” he snarled through clenched teeth.

  Hearing his voice, Elisa’s head jerked up and she raised her arms. “Adrian,” she slurred, “C’mere.” She giggled. “Oh you are a beautif—beautiful man.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad, too bad.” Tears dripped down her cheeks.

  Adrian’s eyes flashed. “You were supposed to take care of her.”

  “He did take care of me,” insisted Elisa, snuffling. “He showed me everything.”

  Rory blinked rapidly. “You told me to give her what she wanted. I was just fol— doing what you said.”

  Adrian grabbed Rory’s lapels. “You bastard,” he hissed.

  Rory’s eyes widened at Adrian’s uncharacteristic display of anger. “It’s true!” He raised his hands defensively. “She wanted it. She asked for a toke, and I tried to say no but she kept on asking.” He glanced at Elisa for confirmation.

  “Thass’ right,” Elisa said, nodding vigorously, almost falling off the couch in another fit of giggles. Adrian caught her before she struck the ground. He peeled back one of her eyelids.

  “This is much more than just a toke.”

  “Well,” Rory appeared only partially abashed. “She wanted something to drink to cool her throat. And after that she wanted more of a buzz.”
<
br />   “So you’ve just been pouring drugs into her all evening?” Adrian’s voice was icy now, the calm tone all his subordinates knew and feared.

  “I was just trying to make her happy like you said.”

  Adrian’s grip tightened on the limp and giggling Elisa in his arms. His nostrils flared. Was Rory the traitor? Was this a scene staged for his benefit?

  Rory avoided eye contact. “You’ve been with girls this wasted before. I didn’t think it would matter. She’s having a good time. Besides, she said she needed something to take the edge off.”

  Adrian’s hands clenched. The chemicals coursing through Elisa’s body had taken something away from her, had taken that bright spark that was quintessentially Elisa.

  But what had Adrian taken from her?

  He had taken her innocence, exposed her to death threats, and involved her in the drug scene that had claimed so many casualties.

  He, himself, had been the direct cause of many of those casualties.

  He had always told himself that dealers were only providing people what they wanted, that it was an individual choice to ingest chemicals, to seek an elusive pleasure or escape from a miserable life.

  But he had been the one who had made Elisa unhappy. He had struck against the moral code she had lived by all her life. It was too much.

  And now, choosing to intoxicate herself would make her doubly vulnerable. If Schwartz had something on her, if Rory or another of his trusted lieutenants was an agent for him, Elisa would need to be strong. Sharp. At her best.

  It was Adrian’s fault. Again. A knife twisted in his gut, drenching him with intense regret. It had been a very long time since he had felt anything so extreme.

  His hands and arms had been bandaged and he had been left sitting in a small room scattered with cheap plastic toys. The social worker had gone into another office to make a phone call, but he snuck after her to listen.

  “Hello, may I speak with Victoria Salas?” the social worker said into the speakerphone.

  “Speaking,” came a clipped voice from the phone.