Tristan spun around, making me run into his chest. “Are you a fugitive on the run? Is that why you were working at NightCrawlers?”
I stumbled back and regained my footing, scanning the area and attempting to look anywhere but at him. His eyes were piercingly intense. “No, that’s not why,” I mumbled. “But the police can’t see me.”
He exhaled loudly. “Fine. I’ll bring her out here. Stay put.” He aimed a finger at me as if to keep me in place. “Better yet, give me your car keys.” Not waiting for my reply, Tristan snatched them out of my hands. “I’ll be back.”
“The hell?” I shouted as he turned around and walked toward the station.
It seemed my first assessment of him as a grade A, raging asshole was correct. He had no idea what kind of dangerous situation he was putting me in by having me stand outside the police station while an active investigation into my disappearance and possible death were in progress. I was flirting with the very real possibility of getting caught right here and now. If anyone recognized me I was done for. Besides that, I’d probably end up in a lot of trouble.
Actually, that was something I hadn’t really thought about. After I found my killer and returned home triumphantly, how would I explain my absence? I couldn’t just pop up and say, Hey guys! I’m home! I supposed I could claim to have been held captive this whole time, but that was a bit of a stretch. Oh, well. No sense stressing about it now. I had to find the bastard first. And when I did …
“Ms. Cruz.” Tristan interrupted my thoughts as he approached with a tall woman in a form-fitting pants suit. Her hair was bubblegum pink—definitely not an acceptable police uniform, I thought—and pulled back into a low bun. A police badge was clipped to her belt. Shit. “I would like to introduce you to Detective Hunt. You can call her Echo.”
The detective held out her hand with a smile on her face. “Nice to meet you, Octavia.”
I shook her hand, alarmed that Tristan had already given her my fake first name. “Likewise,” I replied tentatively. The detective was beautiful, with an ethereal grace that seemed almost otherworldly. I didn’t know how else to explain it.
She gave Tristan a knowing look before turning back to me. “So, Tristan said you’re looking for your friend’s murderer. Has it been reported to the police?”
This was exactly what I didn’t want. If I gave my friend’s real name and she looked up the case, my face would show up.
“No, and I can’t involve the police. I don’t know why he thought this was a good idea,” I growled.
She grinned. “I do some confidential work on the side, don’t worry. We don’t have to involve the law if you don’t want to.”
I frowned. What the hell was this? Was she a dirty cop? And if so, why the hell were we talking about it right outside the police station? None of this made sense.
Echo gave me a soft smile. “I understand your skepticism, but I can help if you let me, Octavia.” Though darkness was quickly falling, her blue eyes seemed to glow with an eerie warmth as we stood under a streetlight that flickered to life.
I looked at Tristan – who I didn’t trust for shit – and then back at his friend. Honestly, Nick wasn’t doing much for me at the moment. The only good thing he delivered was to secure me a new identity. Other than that, I’d been running around town chasing false leads. I needed better intel.
“I know what the killer looks like,” I said by way of acceptance. “Will that help?”
Her smile brightened. “Tremendously.”
5
The three of us regrouped in a small diner that was relatively empty and crowded into a booth in the far back. Since this was on Tristan’s dime, I ordered practically half the menu, including my favorite—pancakes. I was slathering a thick layer of syrup onto my fluffy stack when Echo cleared her throat.
“Is this what he looked like?” She held up a sketch she’d been working on from the description I’d relayed to her over the last hour.
“That’s him!” I nearly shouted in the diner and immediately clamped my mouth shut. “Yeah, that’s him, I mean.”
She had created an exact portrait of the man who shot me. I could never forget that face. Ever. Just looking into those cold-blooded eyes made a shiver trickle down my spine. Just the mere picture put the fear of God into me. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen when I came face-to-face with him again. Would I have the courage to confront him?
“Do you recognize him, Tristan?” Echo asked, sliding the portrait to his side of the table.
He rubbed at his jaw and hummed. “No, I don’t.”
I narrowed my eyes on him. I so knew he had criminal connections! There was no way a guy as young as him could have the penthouse he did all the way out in Marina del Rey by holding down a respectable job, and the only possible reason he would go all the way across town to East L.A. to have fun at NightCrawlers had to be to conduct some shady business.
“Can you tell me anything else about him?” Echo asked as she tucked a stray strand of pink hair behind her ear. “Do you know why he killed your friend?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t know anything else about him.”
She peered over at Tristan, then looked at me. “What can you tell me about your friend?”
My eyes widened. “Nothing. That wasn’t part of the deal!” I slammed my palms on the table, nearly tipping over my half-eaten stack of pancakes.
Echo held out her hand placatingly. “I was just asking, Octavia. Can you at least tell me how she died?”
I swallowed loudly. “A bullet to the forehead.”
I looked over at Tristan who was sitting next to Echo, and found him staring at me intently. I could tell he’d detected a flaw in my story and was trying to puzzle it out.
“Wow,” Echo sighed, snapping my attention away from Tristan and back to her. “I’m sorry, Octavia. I promise to do the best I can to find him.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, adding, “I got a lead that he frequented NightCrawlers, which was why I took a job there, but in my three weeks of employment I never saw him.”
Tristan sat up straighter and leaned forward. “Wait, you heard he goes to the club?”
I rolled my eyes. “That is what I said, isn’t it?”
He looked at Echo and a silent conversation passed between them, which only frustrated me further.
The detective finally turned to me, her smile tight. “May I ask who you got the lead from?”
I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. They were hiding things from me, so I would do the same. “I can’t tell you.”
“Damnit, Octavia, this is serious!” Tristan shouted. With a start, I realized it was the first time he’d called me by my first name instead of Ms. Cruz.
I leaned back in the booth. “I said … I can’t tell you. Get over it.”
Echo put a delicate hand on his arm just as he was about to jump across the table and strangle me. At least that’s what I thought he was going to do, considering the murderous glint in his eyes. Yikes.
“I’ll run this through our database and see if we get any hits. If he has any priors, he’ll be in there for sure. I’ll call Tristan if I find anything,” Echo said, diverting our attention as she slid out of the booth. “It was nice to meet you, Octavia. Try not to kill each other, okay?” With that parting shot, she left.
There we sat, me with a plate of soggy pancakes, and Tristan glowering on his side of the booth. Lord only knew how I managed to land in this situation. My life had certainly taken a dismal turn these last few months.
When I first went missing, I spent days only eating one meal a day to conserve the scant money I had, so I knew what it was like to be hungry. With that memory firmly locked, I refused to let those pancakes go to waste. Picking up my fork and knife, I started to cut them into bite-sized pieces.
“That’s disgusting,” Tristan scowled at the soggy mess.
I shrugged. “You obviously don’t know what it’s like to go hungry.” I took a big bit
e.
His brows furrowed, but he kept quiet as he watched me. I finished my pancakes and moved on to eat the sides. They were already gelatinous and cold, but I didn’t care. It was a free meal. When I was done, I chugged the soda I ordered and the water. Nothing would go to waste.
“Well, it was a real joy seeing you again, but I gotta go.” I grabbed my bag and went to leave the booth. Tristan’s boot dropped onto the seat beside me, effectively blocking me in. “What are you doing?”
I froze, glancing at his black boot and then up at his annoying smirk.
“You think I’m just going to let you leave here so you can disappear on me? I don’t think so, Ms. Cruz. I know your kind. And you still have your end of the bargain to fulfill. I need to be with you when they come.”
I scoffed. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” I shrieked. “I’m not going anywhere! You obviously know where I live since you followed me today, you creeper, and now you’re helping me with something very important. I’m not going to skip town! And who the hell is coming for me? Stop being vague, dude. You’re acting shadier than Carole Baskins.”
His jaw clenched, and if smoke could blow out of his ears, he’d be fuming. “Those men who came to the club last night will be looking for you. Trust me, Ms. Cruz, you’ll want me around.”
My whole body tensed at the mention of those thugs. Why would they want me? How did they even know me? None of this made any sense, and Tristan didn’t seem to want to answer my questions. He was obviously involved in something with them, and somehow, I got myself involved, too.
For fuck’s sake. I couldn’t catch a break.
“You’re coming back to my place,” Tristan announced as he slid out of the booth.
“The hell I am!” I shuffled out, grabbing my bag, preparing to make a run for it. As I jostled my bag, a black dahlia tumbled out, unbeknownst to Tristan. I internally groaned. Where the hell are these flowers coming from?
I was about to say something when Tristan grabbed my wrist and pulled me against his chest. I didn’t even see him move. His speed was almost supernatural.
“Let’s not do this the hard way, Octavia,” he purred; he was so close to my face, I could feel his breath on my lips. I was woman enough to admit my knees wobbled a little.
But he wasn’t that charming.
I tilted my head back and slammed it into his, head-butting him. Except it didn’t go as planned. He was hard as a rock, and all I did was practically concuss myself in my thwarted escape attempt.
“Son of a bitch!” I reached a hand up to my forehead to feel if I was bleeding. The diner was spinning and I saw stars twinkle from the edges of my darkening vision. Shit.
Tristan chuckled. “Serves you right.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I grimaced. “Is your head made out of stone?”
He ignored me. “Let’s go, Ms. Cruz. I don’t have all night.”
Before I could fight him further, he threw me over his shoulder and my face landed up close and personal with his behind. A very well-sculpted behind, I might add. Hmm.
“Put me down!” I shouted as he strode confidently out of the diner. “I swear I’ll kill you, Tristan!” I yelled empty threats.
He snorted. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”
I bounced on his shoulder as he walked the streets of Los Angeles with no one saying a word about the manic woman screaming obscenities as she was held upside down. I pounded my fists on Tristan’s back, but it was like hitting concrete. All I did was hurt myself. What the heck was he made of?
We finally stopped moving and Tristan slid me down the front of his rock-hard body to land on my feet. I felt the rigid planes of his muscles, the sensation making me shiver as he boxed me in between him and my car. On one hand, it was a little too close for comfort. On the other hand …
“Get in.” He nodded to the passenger door where I was currently propped.
I cleared my throat. “You’re not driving my car,” I said breathlessly.
Those emerald eyes stared me down. “Do you think I want to drive this piece of junk? It looks like it’s only being held together by duct tape and soda cans.”
“Then give me my keys,” I gritted between my teeth. I didn’t need him insulting my car. This was all I could afford. Before I died, I had a very nice car, thank you very much! Now … not so much.
“Ms. Cruz, I swear I will forcibly fold you into this metal contraption you call a car if you don’t comply. Now – get in by your own volition so we don’t cause a scene.”
I huffed like a child, wanting nothing more than to cause a scene. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs for help, but I couldn’t. If I brought any attention to myself, I’d just be one step closer to someone finding out who I was. I realized Tristan knew I needed to keep a low profile and was using it against me.
Instead of continuing to fight, I motioned him back so he could give me space to turn around. When he took a measured step back, I spun around and opened the passenger door, getting inside with a pout firmly etched on my face. I clutched my bag in front of me after putting on my seat belt and waited for Tristan to step inside.
We didn’t talk as he made the long drive to the coast. I stared out the window forlornly, already missing the glow of city lights as we fled into the dark night.
When we finally made it back to Marina del Rey, Tristan parked in the garage of his penthouse. Of course, as soon as he parked and shut the car off, the engine made a loud noise that echoed in the confines of the garage. We both winced.
“You really need a new vehicle. A functioning one,” he said as he exited.
I followed him out. “Sorry I don’t have tons of money like you do,” I sneered. “And my car works just fine. It got us here, didn’t it?”
“Barely,” he muttered.
We took the elevator to the top floor where his penthouse overlooking the ocean was located. Even though his home was familiar, I couldn’t relax. I crossed the threshold and tiptoed inside as if the boogeyman would burst out of the curtains at any moment.
“Are you hungry?” He walked into the massive kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I don’t have much food, but—”
“I’m okay. We just ate, remember?” I said. Well, I just ate. He didn’t eat at all. Neither did Echo. Weird. “Aren’t you hungry?”
He let out a little laugh. “I’ll be fine. Make yourself comfortable. You’re not going anywhere, anytime soon.”
My stomach plummeted. This was what I feared when I first woke up in this swanky place. Everything about this penthouse was just so over the top. The events of the past day were surreal, and I tried to ground myself in my senses to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. My toes curled onto a plush rug in the middle of the living room, and I felt the cushiony softness underneath my soles. I peered out to the expansive balcony that overlooked the Pacific and listened to the far-off sound of waves crashing against the shore.
Surveying the rest of the living room, I noticed a sectional couch that curved around the room, making what I knew was a super comfortable lounging spot for movie nights as it faced a huge, flat screen TV. The room was decorated with an impressive array of art, everything from classic oil paintings to marble sculptures, that I was sure was worth thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars. It made me nervous just standing there, but even more nervous that I’d soil his fancy couch.
Instead of sitting down, I decided to give in to my curious nature. Tristan had wandered off somewhere and left me by my lonesome, so I supposed I had free reign to snoop around.
It was like looking through someone’s metaphorical medicine cabinet. I approached the nearest wall that boasted ceiling-height, built-in shelves and saw they were filled with artifacts that looked ancient, including what appeared to be Egyptian sculptures. But what really stood out was a metal contraption that looked like a muzzle, almost like a torture device from the Spanish Inquisition. I reached out to touch it when a voice behind me made me jump.
; “And who are you?” a man’s voice said. I whirled around, almost knocking the objects behind me to the ground.
He was stunning, with golden hair that was perfectly mussed and reminded me of a lion. Bright eyes glittered with mischief as he grinned in my direction and leaned against the wall opposite from me, his arms crossed in a black leather jacket that made him look like the ultimate bad boy. Even though I’d never seen him before in my life, warning bells started clanging in my head.
“Who am I? Who the hell are you?” I choked out.
He pushed off the wall. “I’m Maverick. But you can call me Rick,” he said casually as he prowled toward me like a predator, the chains hanging from his jeans clanking together as he stalked closer to me. “And why haven’t I ever seen you around here before?” His eyes narrowed.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Probably because you’re too busy looking in a mirror to notice.” He looked like the pretty boy type.
He laughed. “Oh, you’re feisty. I like it—”
“Leave her alone, Rick,” Tristan said nonchalantly as he reentered the room. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
Maverick’s grin widened. “Nope. I’m here to serve.” He bowed jokingly. “So, who’s the chick?”
“She’s the one from the club,” Tristan replied as he slumped onto the sectional and stretched out.
Maverick gaped. “No way!” His gaze returned to me. “Oh, damn, how’d you get her here?”
They were conversing as if I weren’t standing right there and it was starting to piss me off. Some vital piece of information was being withheld from me and I didn’t like it.
“He man-handled me like an animal, is how he got me here! It’s called kidnapping!” I shouted.
“Yikes.” Maverick stepped back. “You got yourself a redhead. She’s going to be a handful.”
“Worse,” I growled. “You got yourself a Latina.” I glared, giving them a hint of the ire I would rain down on them every chance I had.
Phoenix Burn (From the Ashes Trilogy Book 1) Page 4