Shift (Hearts and Arrows Book 2)

by Staci Hart

  “Owen said you’re from Vegas?”

  She chimed, “Born and raised.”

  “And how was that?”

  “Hot.”

  He laughed at that, and her answering smile could have thawed an iceberg.

  “Vegas is … well, it’s Vegas. Lots of tourists, lots of partying, but it’s mostly just a normal city, if you stay off the strip. But that’s always the trick, isn’t it?”

  “Too true. Ever been to a fight?”

  She shook her head. “Never. I’m not quite sure what to expect, but flashes of Rocky keep popping into my head.”

  Dillon chuffed. “Yeah, it’s not like that. The biggest difference is that what I do isn’t exactly legal. It’s noisy and dark everywhere but the ring, and when the fight is on, it’s … intense. There’s an electricity in the air, full of anxiety and anticipation and the sick sort of hope that something really fucked up will happen. But the good news is that it’s way less gory bare-knuckle than with gloves.”

  Kat laughed. “No way.”

  He nodded, leaning on the bar and toward her. “Really. People think the gloves are for protection, but it’s actually to make the fight bloodier. Think about it. Every punch has an extra twelve to sixteen ounces of weight behind it when you’ve got gloves on. Bare-knuckle is less gruesome, and there’s more skill involved. You can’t just whale on the other guy. Hits to the face have to be perfectly timed and placed, or you risk these.” He held up his hands and wiggled his fingers.

  He saw respect in her eyes, and it made him feel like a king.

  “There’s not so much skill involved in racing. It’s twenty percent knowing your car and eighty percent instinct. Some people have it, some don’t.”

  “Makes sense,” he said, understanding completely. “Your car is bitchin’ by the way.”

  A laugh burst out of her, the sound and sight of her hitting him in the ribcage. “Bitchin’? You just sounded like McConaughey in Dazed and Confused.”

  “We’re talkin’ some fuckin’ muscle,” he said in his best Southern accent.

  “Oh my God,” she said on a laugh, angling in a little closer. “By the way, your car is pretty bitchin’ too. Just not quite as bitchin’ as mine.”

  “Fair.”

  A moment passed, and he scrambled to keep the conversation going, not ready to let her walk away. Not yet.

  “Have you always been into cars?”

  “Since I was a kid.”

  “Me too, and always vintage cars. They don’t make them like that anymore.”

  “Sure don’t. Now it’s all plastic and cheap parts. My dad and I rebuilt a 69’ Impala engine when I was twelve, and I’ve been hooked ever since.”

  “What’d you do with the Impala?”

  “Kept it. It was my day car. My dad gave me the Camaro on my sixteenth birthday, and I started racing at eighteen. But God, I hated to leave the Impala in Vegas. We were just—” In such a hurry to leave. She caught herself. “There’s nowhere to park one car here, never mind two.”

  A patron called Kat’s name from the other end of the bar, but when they looked toward the sound, they caught Kiki and Owen whispering from a ways down.

  Kiki hopped to and smiled. “I’ve got it!”

  Owen offered an awkward wave and pointed toward the bathroom.

  “They would make terrible spies,” Dillon said.

  “The worst. And I’m pretty sure giving Kiki gadgets that blew things up would not end well.”

  He chuckled, picking up his drink again. “I’m glad you’re coming to the fight, really. I couldn’t sleep, thinking about the need to even the score on my shameful display from last night.”

  “Sorry to embarrass you,” she said with a mostly straight face. Then, she laughed. “That’s actually a lie. You deserved it.”

  He shot her a cocky smile, and she shot him one right back. But it faltered for a second, and so did his.

  “You okay?”

  And with her smile firmly back in place, she answered, “I’m good. And we’re good.”

  It was the best news he’d gotten in ages.

  Ares watched Kat and Dillon staring at each other across the bar, their noses too close, their eyes too soft.

  He glanced at Hera, who sat ramrod straight in an armchair by his side with her eyes on him. With a tic of his jaw, he reached into his pocket, and when his hand emerged, it was with a small glass orb. Inside curled the tip of a peacock feather, its golden eye peering at him from behind the glass.

  She took it with a smile that was sinister and shrewd and deposited it in her bag.

  The door of the bar swung open, and Kat’s eyes cut to the motion just as the jukebox switched to a gritty blues song. A girl walked through the door, a girl she remembered from the night of the fight when she’d first met the brothers, a girl with hair a little too blond and skin a little too tan. Two of her friends flanked her, all three of them with laser-focused eyes and hips that swung in time with each other. They looked like fembots, too synchronized, almost synthetic. Her eyes were on Dillon, and when she reached him, she ran her hand across his shoulders.

  He stiffened.

  The only acknowledgment she offered Kat was a glance and a sneer that almost immediately slid into a seductive smile.

  “Hey, Dillon. Fancy running into you here and twice in one week.” Her words were like honey, sticky and thick.

  “What are you doing here, Jessica?” he asked with an edge that mirrored his posture.

  She laughed. “Last I checked, it’s a public bar. Is it really so strange that I’d wander in?”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she’d already turned to Kat.

  “How about getting me a drink? Appletini for me and whatever they want.” Jessica waved a hand at her friends, who ordered the same.

  Kat did her best not to laugh, but her smile had a mind of its own. “Uh, sure. Three Appletinis, coming right up.” She moved to make the drinks, watching the exchange out of her periphery, amused.

  Jessica was so out of her league, and she had no idea just how far. Everything about Dillon said no. It didn’t seem to faze her.

  She linked her hands around his biceps, leaning into him possessively. “How are you?”

  “I was fine.” He pried her fingers apart and removed them from his arm. “Did you need something?”

  Her pretty lips pouted. “A girl can’t say hello to a guy without needing something?”

  Dillon’s brows dropped until his eyes were nearly slits. “Drop the act. I’m not interested. I can’t say it any more plainly than that.”

  Kat’s hands stilled. Jessica stared at him blankly just as a slight breeze brushed against her skin — as if someone had walked by, but no one had moved. She thought she heard whispers riding the wind, sending the hairs on the back of her neck to attention.

  When Jessica blinked, everything changed. Her body tightened with her voice, her face hard and eyes glinting. “I don’t think you understand what you’re missing.”

  He leaned in and bit out, “I’m pretty sure I do, and I’m taking a hard, final pass.”

  She leveled her gaze at him. “Oh, you don’t. But you will.”

  Before anyone could react, she spun around and marched over to Owen, who sat, watching from a few seats away ,waiting for Kiki to come back from the stockroom. Jessica gripped his arm, spun him in the stool, grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, and tried to eat his face.

  Or at least, that was what it looked like from where Kat sat, and apparently, Dillon thought so too. He burst out laughing, and Kat couldn’t help herself from joining in.

  Owen scrambled, his arms flailing just a little before they got their act together and moved to her shoulders to push her away. He seemed to need to push harder than he should have, considering he was much bigger than her, but she wouldn’t budge.

  By that point, it was too late.

  Kiki had walked out of the back room to Owen’s back and a tall blond gnawing his face off from the
other side. It took her all of a second to figure out what was going on, and then she lost her shit.

  She stormed around the bar with tears in her eyes. By the time she reached his side, the very smug Jessica had released him, and he sat there gaping at her angrily, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.

  He didn’t see Kiki until her open hand was on a track for his cheek. The smack of skin sent a shock through Kat.

  Kiki’s face was twisted and red, her tears rolling down her face. “I thought you were different,” she said, quaking. “But you’re just like every other fucking asshole. Get out of here.”

  He didn’t move, stunned silent.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  Owen reached for her. “Kiki, wait. I can explain —”

  “I don’t give a fuck! Get out! Go!” She spun on her heel and shouted at Kat, “Make him leave, please, for the love of Christ!” And then she stormed out, pushing the swinging door open with enough force to slam it against the wall with a bang.

  Kat’s mouth hung open, and she, Dillon, and Owen stared at each other, dumbfounded. Dillon snapped out of it first.

  He turned on Jessica, whose hands were on her hips like she’d won something. Dillon grabbed her by the arm hard enough that his fingers dug into her skin.

  Only then did she seem to realize what she’d done.

  She looked down at his hand, then up to his eyes, her face falling and eyes widening. One of her friends tugged Dillon’s free arm, but he shook it loose and shot her a look that sent her backing away.

  “What the fuck?” he spat at Jessica, dragging her toward the door, her feet barely able to keep up. “We’re done here. Do you understand me? Done. I don’t ever want to see your face again. If you fucked something up for Owen, you will never see the inside of a fight again. Do you hear me?”

  She leaned away, nodding mutely. He dropped her arm, and her hand covered the place where his fingers had been as her friends flocked to her and rushed her out the door.

  Dillon was already on his way back to the bar, his face softening as he took in his brother, sitting on the barstool, slope-shouldered.

  “I am so sorry,” he said, as if it were all his fault.

  But Owen didn’t respond, only turned to Kat with pleading eyes. “You have to talk to her. Will you talk to her? You know I didn’t — I’d never—”

  “I know,” she said, utterly confident in her ability to explain the truth to Kiki.

  Dillon raked a hand through his hair. “This is all my fault. She was trying to make me jealous.”

  Kat had to laugh. “That worked out so well for her.” She handed Owen a green martini. “Drink this shitty drink, and I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded his answer to the glass, and as she headed to the back, she offered a smile to Dillon, hoping she looked reassuring.

  Kat pushed open the door to the stockroom and found Kiki on the same stack of beer that Kat had sat on a few days before.

  Kiki sniffled.

  Kat sat down on a stack next to her. “You okay?”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay.” She sniffled again.

  Kat reached over to pick up a roll of toilet paper from a shelf stocked with napkins and paper towels. The wrapper was crisp and noisy as she unfurled it and handed the roll over to Kiki, who ripped off a strip and dabbed her nose with it.

  “I saw the whole thing, Kiki, and he didn’t ask for that, nor did he want it. She wasn’t after him. She was after Dillon.”

  Kiki’s nose honked as she blew it with the one-ply before turning her wet, confused eyes to Kat. “What?”

  “She was trying to make Dillon jealous.”

  Kiki blinked. “Why didn’t he push her away?”

  “It looked to me like he was trying to. Either she’s crazy strong or Owen’s a wuss.”

  That earned a little laugh, followed by a hopeful gaze. “Are you sure that’s what you saw?”

  “I’m absolutely positive. But you should talk to Owen about it.”

  Kiki looked down at her hands, twisting the tissue.

  “Do you really think he’d hurt you like that?” she asked gently.

  Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t think he would.”

  Kat wrapped an arm around her sister. “I don’t think he would either. Talk to him. He’s still here.”

  She reluctantly stood and walked toward the door, stopping in front of the small mirror on the wall, swiping under her eyes to wipe the mascara away. “Oh God. I look like shit.”

  “You look fine,” Kat soothed. “And either way, he doesn’t care.”

  Kiki smiled small and grateful. Then, she took a deep breath and walked back into the bar.

  Kat followed her out, smiling again at Dillon that it was going to be okay, and he breathed a sigh.

  The second Kiki was in earshot, Owen was out of his seat and rambling. “Kiki, God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what that was. I mean, I know what it was, but I don’t know why she did it. She’s been after Dillon forever, not me, and I was so surprised that I didn’t even know what to do. I tried to push her away, but I couldn’t break her grip. I couldn’t even move my head away from hers. She’s nuts, Kiki. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

  He waited for a beat, watching her, while she twisted her fingers behind her back and nibbled on her bottom lip.

  “Say something, please. Anything,” he begged with eyes big and brown and sad.

  “Do you promise?”

  He relaxed and reached for her, running his hand down her arm, and she unclasped her hands, winding her arms around his waist.

  “I promise. I’d never do something like that to you.”

  He cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his palm.

  “Just be honest with me.”

  Owen pressed his forehead to hers and said, “Always.”

  They kissed sweetly, and the few patrons left in the bar clapped and cheered. Kat found herself cheering too, shaking her head as she made her way over to Dillon.

  “That was almost a disaster,” he said, his voice full of relief and residual guilt.

  She watched him, smiling. “You know, this is a big change of heart from the first time I met you.”

  Dillon shrugged, though his eyes were serious. “Things have changed. I was wrong.”

  Kat raised her eyebrows to hide the warmth she felt for him in that moment. “Once you have time to cool off, you’re not such a bad guy. You know that?”

  “It’s just the part where I get hot that I have to work on, I guess.”

  A shadow passed behind his eyes and was gone just as quickly — a darkness she recognized and knew well.

  She leaned over the bar and laid her hand over his where it rested on the glossy surface of the bar and said, “You and me both.”

  Ares laid his head in his hands, pressing the heels of his palms into his eye sockets.

  Disaster.

  He never should have asked for her help.

  “Well played, Hera,” he spat, knowing she was cowed when she didn’t correct him for not calling her Mom.

  She cleared her throat, and when he sat back on the couch, defeated, she looked away. “I told you it was a long shot.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and glared at her with all the disappointment he could muster, which was easy. “No, you didn’t. But I figured it was anyway.”

  “There might be another angle to try. I’m sure I can get Jessica to —”

  “Did you hear him? The groupies are officially out of the game.”

  She bobbled her head. “Not necessarily. You’ve seen her. I’m sure we can find another way to use her.”

  His anger was barely tethered, the string taut and strained. “You’ve got to be kidding. The girl was scared shitless. She won’t go near him again. She’s not that stupid.”

  But Hera kept pushing, her voice cajoling but her body on edge, her eyes searching, scrambling. “If you pay another token, I could build her up, bring her around to—”


  “Enough!” He leaned toward her, and she leaned back to keep the space between them. “Leave. Now.”

  “Ares, I —”

  “I said, now!”

  His voice echoed, reverberating, larger than physics should have allowed it, and Hera jumped in her seat, before sitting stock-still for a moment, blue eyes wide, lips sealed. Her hands trembled as she gathered her clutch and stood, her heels clipping quickly through his entryway as she left his apartment.

  His sigh weighed the world, and he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  Dita would never let him hear the end of this. His stomach turned at the thought. If she needled, if she pushed, he’d get mad. And if he got mad, they would both be in trouble.

  Because he wouldn’t win her that way, and he was determined to win her, determined enough to endure the humiliation.

  It would all be worth it in the end. Or so he would tell himself, hoping all the while he could convince himself of the fact.

  Day 6

  The amount of time it had taken Kat to get ready for the fight bordered on outrageous.

  She glanced in the rearview as she drove through Brooklyn with Kiki to pick up Owen, her green eyes brighter than usual, lined with black, winged on the ends.

  Kiki had found it amusing, to put it mildly. She’d sat on Kat’s bed as she tried on no less than four outfits, grinning and cracking jokes. She’d then sat on the counter in the bathroom, needling Kat as she curled her hair in big, loose waves. And now she sat in the passenger seat, her eyes twinkling with all her hopes for Kat and Dillon on her face as plainly as her nose.

  “You’re excited,” she said.

  Kat rolled her eyes again. She’d rolled them enough that night that she was surprised she hadn’t sprained anything.

  “No, I’m not. Tonight’s not a big deal.”

  “Right, right. Sure.”

  “I’m only going because it’s only fair to see him fight after I beat him so badly the other night. So,” Kat said, steering the conversation away from herself, “are you feeling better about the drama from last night?”