“Let me help,” Tyler said. He placed his hand on Knife’s elbow and escorted him to the turntable. “And here’s some OJ. You know, replenish those fluids.”
“Thanks buddy. You two hang out, enjoy yourselves. I’ve got to get back on the mic,” he said. He winked at Janie and gave her a snap of his fingers. “It’s been real.”
Like that, he shut off hospitality mode, and started talking to his adoring fans. “I’m back from that quick break. Who’s ready to crank up the rock?”
“Glad I was able to help scratch that itch,” she muttered to Tyler.
“Hey baby, don’t take it personal,” Tyler said. “What’s he supposed to do? Ignore the entire crowd on the dance floor for some snuggle time?”
Without thinking, she socked him in the shoulder.
He clutched his arm. “Ow. That hurt. What was that for?”
“Making fun of me.”
“I did no such thing.” It was hard to take him seriously as he fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.
She knew the feeling. It was time to head home. Knees shaking, Janie righted her clothes. The back of her skirt somehow ended up in the front, and she blushed as she turned it back around. She spotted her underwear in the corner of the couch and stepped back into it. Between her legs throbbed with a pleasant sensation. She’d be feeling the aftereffects in the morning.
“You’re no help,” she said to Tyler.
He responded with a grin. “Can I offer you a ride home?”
“You bet.”
Together, hand in hand, they walked through the darkened nightclub, echoes of music and days past leaving a residual sense. It was almost tangible. In the parking lot, Tyler opened the passenger door and stopped Janie before she got in. He pressed her against the cool metal, and kissed her until she grew woozy from the overload.
“Thank you for tonight,” he said. He leaned his forehead against hers. “It was a memorable way to spend my birthday. Now are you going to put your wedding ring back on, naughty girl?”
She laughed, and dug into her purse. “If you insist.” She held the set out to him. “Will you do the honors, again?”
The trials of day-to-day life had grown tedious, and it always seemed like they were each busy doing something independently. While being secure on their own was good, they needed to re-focus some energy on their relationship. That’s when they’d hatched the idea to “meet up” at her favorite club.
A threesome with the DJ was the added cap to the evening.
With a sense of formality, he slid the wedding ring and then engagement ring on her left hand. “These mean that you belong to me,” he said.
“Yes, I do. No matter what other fun we partake in. I’m yours. Thank you for setting up tonight.” Flashes of what she’d done brought heat to her face. “You know I’ve had a crush on him for like forever.”
He gestured toward the car, and she turned to slip inside. He smacked her on the ass. “Oh, I know! Wait until you see what I have in store for you next weekend.”
The Blood Moon reflected in her eyes. She tilted her head back, and howled.
It wasn’t only the music that kept her young.
About the Author
A Southern California native, Louisa Bacio can’t imagine living far away from the ocean. The multi-published author of erotic romance enjoys writing within all realms – from short stories to full-length novels. Bacio shares her household with a supportive husband, two daughters growing “too fast,” and a multitude pet craziness: Two dogs, five fish tanks, an aviary, hamsters, rabbits and hermit crabs. In her other life, she teaches college classes in English, journalism and popular culture.
Find out more about Louisa:
Website: http://www.louisabacio.com
Facebook: http://www.Facebook.com/LouisaBacio
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/LouisaBacio
Other Books by Louisa:
Claiming the She-Wolf
Blue Book of Grown-Up Fairytales: Volume 2
Love wasn’t as complicated
Before the Rain
by
Kerry Adrienne
Dedication
To my super hero friend, Louisa.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to my writing group, Triangle Writers, for their endless support. They listen to me whine, console me when I am down, and give me the best critiques any writer could ask for. Without them, I’d never finish a story! Thanks so much to the DD crew for the opportunity and all the fun times!
A Note from the Author
I chose Before the Rain because it has a haunting melody that reminded me of a dystopian world—a world where love would be hard to find and even harder to hold on to.
~ Kerry Adrienne
Chapter One
MADDOX LEANED BACK in the bar booth and glanced at the slim implant screen on the back of his wrist. Seven o’ clock. Prime Confessor Benton was dead by now, if all had gone to plan. His stomach knotted. If things hadn’t gone well, and the city’s alarms sounded, he’d have little time to escape. The Sentinels were quick and deadly.
He chanced a peek at the other patrons in the darkened bar, but none looked worried or agitated. Instead, they all huddled over mugs of stout or some worse concoction, none aware that their whole existence had possibly been erased and rewritten with one simple act of violence.
A necessary murder.
Most citizens were oblivious to the fact that Verity was trying to save them and many didn’t even know the faction existed. Only people who had something to offer were even recruited by Verity. He grunted. He’d never understood why they picked him, other than he knew the city well and had been loyal to the government before the war.
The dank air pressed in on him, and he took a sip of the salty brine that somewhat passed for ale. He steadied his breathing and waited, tapping his fingers on the nearly empty mug, leaving trails of worry in the condensation. He’d trained for this night for months, but nothing had really prepared him for the actuality and tension of the live mission. His heart thundered and he focused on relaxing. He blew out a breath. He had a job to do, and he’d get it done. Verity depended on him. The future of the city depended on him too.
Pre-pac music lilted over the bar’s archaic speakers, but soon it’d be replaced by news of the Confessor’s death. Screens everywhere would report the crime. Sirens would screech the news. Everything would change.
A red pindot flashed on his wrist screen, and he touched his thumb to it. One word appeared:
Complete.
He took another deep breath and zipped his jacket slowly, feeling the zipper teeth interlock one by one as they clicked into place. He screened his bar tab payment to the bartender with a swipe of his forefinger and wiped the mug clear of fingerprints with his napkin.
The heavy bar door groaned open and a cloaked figure, dripping from the incessant rain, stood in the doorway a moment before entering, then headed straight across the floor toward the booth where Maddox sat.
Maddox tensed, reaching to find comfort in the cool Lancer in his boot, but the figure was at his table before he could stand or fumble to pull the weapon. A tiny hand shot from under the cloak, thumb pushed forward in awkward greeting.
Female?
No reason to be too surprised. He stood and held out his wrist and the woman dropped her wet hood then jabbed her thumb to the screen. She didn’t make eye contact and her wet blond hair fell forward over her face. She projected strength, despite her small appearance. She met his stare, her mouth set in a firm line.
He lurched back, not sure if it was from the poke to his wrist or the sight of the woman. Or the shock that Verity had sent a woman to take down the Confessor. Not that he thought a female couldn’t do the job, because of course she could, but because the Confessor was particularly known for his affinity for torturing women who crossed him. A mere sexual sadist on his best day, the man was the worst of humanity’s nightmares. He’d unleashed unspeakable acts on the populace, ye
t people still followed him like sheep. Believed his rhetoric. He had to be disposed of before he gained any more power and Verity had made sure it happened.
He blinked and the woman looked down again. She’d assassinated the tyrant and lived. So far. His job was to get her to safety.
A warm sensation trickled through to his palm and buzzed blue in confirmation of the woman’s identity as working for Verity. She yanked her hand away.
“Allana.” She scanned the room, biting her lip as she assessed each patron with a razor-sharp look. She kept her hands concealed under her cloak, presumably so she could access her weapon quickly. Always on duty, assassins. Not that he’d ever known one, but that’s what he’d heard.
“I’m Maddox.” He ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve got to get out of here now.” He kept his voice low. “Won’t be long till the news is out.” He grabbed his backpack off the seat and slung it over his shoulder.
“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” She raised her shoulders up around her ears. Clearly, she was still stressed.
He blinked at her harsh sneer. He should have known the assassin would be a hard-ass, but coming from such a small package, it was still a surprise. He’d do his job and get her to safety. He wasn’t doing the job to make friends, but there wasn’t any reason for her to treat him like shit.
“Let’s go. And cut the crap. I’m here to help you.” He motioned her forward. If she kept up the rudeness, he’d have a chat with her—when they were in a safer location. Now was not the time.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s been a rough day.”
He nodded and they moved toward the door, trying not to rush or make any movement that would garner unnecessary attention. If they were caught inside the building, they’d never escape alive. No matter how good Allana was with weapons, two against twenty wasn’t a fair fight and the Sentinels would descend on the bar within minutes of an alarm, if not seconds.
“Hey!” the bartender called. Conversation stopped and stares swiveled to focus on Maddox and Allana.
He stopped, his heart thudding. Should they run? Not yet. He turned to face the bar. Maybe he doesn’t know…
“Thanks for the tip, man.” The bartender smiled. “Don’t get many of those anymore.”
He faked a smile back to the bartender. Shit. He’d drawn attention to himself and, more importantly, to Allana. Could be a fatal mistake for both of them. He put his hand on her shoulder and guided her to the door.
“Be ready,” he whispered. “In case.”
Her shoulder tensed and she dipped her head in acknowledgement.
Allana shoved the bar door open and they stepped into the night. She draped her dark cape over her head again as the rain pummeled them. He moved his hand from her shoulder and wiped his eyes, squinting as his vision adjusted to the darkness. The street lay empty except for a few stray mutts that appeared to be scavenging farther down the block, and a lone passerby heading for the bar. Broken skyscrapers rose in the dark, looming over the streets like fractured monsters. Few buildings had electricity at night, their top floors broken off in the war and never repaired. Once Verity took over, things would change.
“This way.” He motioned.
Allana followed without a sound, her shoes barely a stutter on the broken pavement. Overgrown bushes and weeds populated the sidewalks, so they stuck to the unused roadway. Weeds thrust through the cracks, bowed under soggy branches. Amazing how much of anything could grow with so little sunlight.
Somewhere in the distance, the clanging of a beamcar sounded. On time as always. Even on the city’s worst days, the beamcars did their jobs, carrying the Confessor’s Sentinels wherever they might be needed. Keeping the peace had never been more efficient.
The relentless rain beat against him. Maddox pushed his hair off his forehead and cinched his jacket tighter at the neck as he walked. What he wouldn’t give to go outside and stay dry for once.
“Where are we going now?” Allana’s teeth chattered as she spoke. “Somewhere inside, I hope.”
He grunted an acknowledgement and wiped his eyes. He should’ve been used to the constant downpour by now, but he wasn’t. Far from it. The fucked-up climate system had done a number on so many things, not the least of which was morale. Some days, suicides fell from the skyscrapers and mangled bridges like raindrops. But today, it didn’t matter how much it poured. Today, he had a job to do, rain be damned.
“The storm sewers,” he said. “At least it’s warmer there.”
“Okay, if you say so. I trust Verity.” She adjusted her hood.
“Got us this far.”
“Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
They walked in silence except for the patter of the rain and the echo of their footsteps. When would the alarms sound? Someone had to have discovered the body by now. The Confessor was always surrounded by people to do his bidding. Maybe Allana had killed him in his sleep with a knife to the neck, or maybe over dinner with a fast-acting poison. Regardless, Maddox wasn’t allowed to ask the details of how she did it. Verity was serious about protecting assassins’ privacy.
He glanced at the woman walking next to him, her head bowed and wet blonde hair hanging in clumps from under the hood. He did wonder how and why she’d been recruited. Did she have any remorse? Or, was killing in the line of duty truly a job? He’d never be able to kill, at least he didn’t think so. He spent his life trying to concoct medicines to help people, but Verity had brought him on to scout and track—something he turned out to be very good at. Killing wasn’t in his job description.
“One day, you’ll have to tell me how you became an assassin.” He took a deep breath. He’d said that aloud? “I know I’m not supposed to ask. I guess I’m just the curious type.”
She looked at him with such intensity; he thought he might evaporate on the spot under her gaze. And yet, she looked right through him. Singularly, her features might be described by some as plain, but put together, her face held a compelling beauty. Too bad he wouldn’t have the chance to really get to know her. Once they got out of the city, he’d be handing her off to Verity officials for debriefing, and she’d be gone from his life just like everyone else.
She turned away, the raindrops glistening on her hair like a thousand tiny stars. “I never wanted this job, but I had no other real choice. It’s not a hero’s job.”
“And yet you did choose it, and made it through the training. You must be good.”
She studied his features before speaking. “The best. Job’s not over yet. I’ve got information to hand over. Then, I’ll be done, and I can live the rest of my life knowing my family name has been vindicated.”
“Come on, then. We’ve got a ways to go.” He wanted to press for more details, ask her about her family and what she meant. Not now. He smiled, but she didn’t return it.
The rain sheeted, and he pushed his wet hair from his eyes. They walked quickly, but didn’t run. That might trigger suspicion, even though they didn’t see anyone out and about. Someone could be watching from any of a number of abandoned buildings. Allana kicked at a glass bottle, sending it spinning across the pavement into the far curb with a clank. Tempting fate seemed to be something assassins liked to do.
Maddox led her around to a side avenue that ran parallel to the main street in the south side of the city. Strewn with debris and overgrown with errant weeds, the unused street had become an impromptu urban park and home to the less desirables, the Kooks. High on Koo, both men and women sprawled on benches that lined the once-busy street. Torn bags of refuse piled high behind them; the Koo addicts barely moved or even paid attention to their surroundings, their eyes wide and wild and darting to take in every bit of light stimulus, their screens long ago ripped away, replaced by dirty bandages. Some had probably served Verity at one point, while others were slaves to the Confessor. Koo was so addictive, few stood a chance at escaping it, and the Confessor had been rumored to provide it to families he wanted out of his way. These poor pe
ople weren’t even allowed to die.
And they didn’t even seem to mind the rain.
“Pitiful.” Allana shook her head.
He nodded as a memory flashed through his mind—his beautiful sister, Meera, once vibrant and full of life before the war, then ravaged by Koo after the Confessor’s ascension. He fisted his hands. When Verity had come calling, promising to help her and others like her, Maddox signed on to work for them without a thought. Not long after, he’d found Meera dead, eyes glazed and empty, staring into the rain-filled sky. She was laying in a park much like the one they were in now, just days before his training for the current mission started.
The blow had been a gut-punch unlike any he’d ever felt. Still, he believed in Verity’s promises to bring the city back to its former glory. A city where people could live their lives without fear.
With the Confessor dead, they were a whole lot closer to that goal.
He shook off the sadness and focused on the task ahead. He and Allana were safe cutting through the park, and that’s all that mattered now. Getting away from the beamcars and any people who cared what they were doing was the first point of action, then heading into the sewers and finally escaping the city. In this area, for those high on Koo, the last thing the addicts cared about was anyone who wasn’t providing more Koo. He and Allana would be as invisible as the disintegrating refuse on the ground.
The shrill peal of a beamcar siren sliced through the wet air, reverberating off the crumbling walls. In the distance, other sirens echoed and broadcast the news.
Allana gazed at her flashing notification. “They found him.” She looked into Maddox’s eyes. “No going back now.”
“We’ll make it. We’ve got a good head start.” He wiped his face with the hem of his jacket and adjusted the pack on his back. “And the plan is solid.” He had to succeed. He’d vowed that Meera’s death wouldn’t be in vain. Sounded like he and Allana both had reasons to work for the secret faction.
Come Undone: Romance Stories Inspired by the Music of Duran Duran Page 24