All is Lost (All Series, Book 2)

by Marie Wathen

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Breesan

  Late in the afternoon the boys and Sam return to Rhys’ after visiting Tristan and I instantly get the feeling from Marcus that something horrible must have happened.

  “Are you alright?” I ask nervously, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Reaching for his hand, I grip tightly and draw him close.

  “Tristan woke up and he spoke to me and Morgan,” he says apprehensively. His brows scrunch together and the green in his eyes turn dark as he slowly scans over my entire face. Narrowing my eyes, I search his worried expression, which does not match the joyful news. I need to understand why this upsets him. It is supposed to be good news that Tristan woke from a coma after getting shot in the head.

  “What?” I whisper, afraid to hear the reason behind his vexing.

  “I'm sorry.” Titling his head away from me, he draws in a slow breath before answering, “It's good news. It is, but...” He trails off, directing his gaze toward Morgan and Sam walking through the door. Twisting back around to face me, Marcus drops his chin on my forehead and draws me tight against his chest.

  “It is good news, baby. For now, let's just be happy that he is awake.” Nodding my head against his chest, I feel the tears welling up and press my face harder into his warm body. Everything has been so bad lately and this news has been exactly what I've been waiting for to turn things around. It just doesn't feel like it is better.

  Clearing his throat, he continues, “The doctor’s prognosis is actually better than we could have ever hoped with his type of injury. Trist will have to endure physical therapy for a while. He said that's standard with most patients after waking up from a coma.”

  “Okay,” I say, letting out a heavy breath. I slide my hand across both cheeks wiping away my tears. “There's something else though, isn't there? Something you don't want to tell me. Marcus, whatever it is I can handle it. I know that I've been unpredictable with my reactions when all this bullshit started, but I think that lately I've been dealing with it all much better since...”

  “Yes, you have.” He cuts me off, tugging me back into his warm embrace. “And of course you're right. There is more. I would just prefer to talk to you alone about it.”

  Assuring me that we will talk about it soon, he directs his eyes toward Morgan and Sam, silently telling me that he doesn't want to share whatever it is with them. Knowing that he would tell me his secrets over them alerts my senses that something fucked up is going on. Unfortunately, right now I have to get changed. I have to work at the club tonight so our conversation must be postponed until later.

  Once at the club Ensley approaches flashing the brightest smile I have yet to see come from her. She is always so scattered with her emotions and I'm never sure which personality will greet me. Tonight her happy girl is front and center.

  “Bea,” She grabs me in a tight hug. “It feels like it has been weeks since I've seen you. I guess that is partially my fault since I've been staying with Tox for the past two days. He's finally home from his trip, and I just can't get enough of him. We didn't leave the bedroom for the first twenty-four hours.” She giggles and winks like she let me in on some big fat secret. However, this isn't the first time she's bragged about their sexcapades, and I really don't give a damn to hear about it again.

  “Great. So am I upstairs again tonight?” I ask, diverting the conversation to a pg-13 topic, hoping she will shut the hell up with her private shit.

  “Actually, you my friend are going upstairs to meet the boss.” Still giggling, Ensley takes my hand leading me upstairs to the far back office. Knocking softly she smiles brightly at me once before entering the room. “Hey, I brought up the new waitress for you to meet.” Speaking to the man sitting behind the desk, Ensley gestures with her hand toward me.

  Tox is a large man with a muscular physique, his jet black hair is slicked back. The heavy black eyeliner combined with his red contacts really stands out against his pale white tinted face and lips. His unbuttoned black silk shirt reveals a well-defined six pack. He is in his early-twenties, much younger than I would have guessed of someone running such a successful business. Upon our entrance, he flashes a warm smile and stands reaching his hand out to greet me. That's when I notice how tall he is. Standing approximately a foot taller than me, Tox would be frightening to meet in a dark alley, but with this friendly smile I am convinced he is harmless.

  Engaging in my Beatrice role, I smile seductively and grip his hand sternly, while opening my senses to determine if he is a good guy or not. Knowing that anyone that works here or patrons here could be a link to the whereabouts of my friends, I'm not taking a thing for granted and suspecting everyone.

  “So this is the beautiful Beatrice who has swept all the men off their feet. I swear every man in this place hasn't shut up since I came back about how great you are. And that makes for good business. So take a seat and Ensley,” He smiles sweetly at her before continuing, “Will you bring me a scotch neat? Beatrice would you like a drink?” He asks.

  I watch his eyes and determine that this is a test. He must know I'm too young yet he wants to see if I'll accept it since he is the boss.

  “Actually no, I don't drink, but thank you.”

  “Good answer.” Tox replies, walking around the desk returning to his seat. “Forget the drinks,” he orders Ensley.

  She exits the room closing the door behind her, muffling out the booming music coming from downstairs and giving us a private setting to talk. Patiently, I watch Tox as he flips through a file. He meticulously shuffles a few papers around then closes it. He drops it into the cabinet attached to his desk, shuts the drawer locking it, and finally slips the key into his pocket.

  “Let's get the formalities out of the way. Where are you from?” He asks, casting his eyes directly at mine.

  “I'm from Chelsea.” I answer with the well-rehearsed lie. “It's a small town in Alabama.”

  “Really?” He smiles, “Never heard of it. Well, what brings you all the way to Willow?”

  Flipping through my memory for Rhys cover story, I straighten up in my seat and launch into the big fat lie.

  “Man trouble,” I say dramatically in a defeated tone, “I found a real winner, who treated me like shit. Apparently, the whole town knew he was cheating on me. You know what they say about being blind when you're in love? Unfortunately, I got my vision back when I caught him in our bed with the town skank. My cousin Rhys lives here. He invited me to chill at his place for a while and really who could pass up a chance to live on an island?” If possible, his smile grows even brighter from my answer.

  “A girl after my own heart,” he states. It feels like the truth so I smile sweetly at him.

  Needing some answers myself I ask him a similar question. “Are you from Willow?”

  His happy expression drops instantly and I wonder if my nosiness offends him. “Actually, I guess you could classify me as a rogue traveler. After my parents separated I bounced around a lot. But Willow feels more like home than most places I've lived.”

  Truth

  “I have to say that in my small amount of traveling I would agree with you on that point.”

  “What do you think about Club Toxic Beatrice?”

  “Well, I love the music and the people are cool. But...” I hesitate telling him that his club creeps me out. It might cause him to go apeshit crazy.

  “But, it's creepy, isn't it?” He asks before I can finish, flashing another one of his brilliant smiles.

  “Yeah,” nodding slowly, I'm shocked, but add, “Especially at night when there is just a few of the staff members left at closing. I swear this place is haunted.”

  Laughing heartily at me, Tox gives the impression that is exactly what he was going for with the ambiance.

  “It could be,” he says shrugging as he smiles proudly. “I know Ensley must have told you that it was formerly a mortuary.”

  “Yes, she did and I, for one, think it is genius.”

 
“Can't take the credit for that one, it was entirely my dad's idea.” He sighs heavily.

  Feeling something almost kindred after getting the feeling that his relationship with his parents could be as dysfunctional as mine, I simply nod my head in agreement.

  “Alright, I guess that I'll keep you.” He clears his throat and I notice a slight reddening creeping up his neck. “What I mean to say is, you're doing such a great job and it sounds like you need a break from real life. You have a job here for as long as you want.”

  “Thanks, um Mr. ...” I trail off not remembering if I caught his last name.

  “Tox, the formality of Mr. is reserved for my father.” He smiles sweetly again, but this time it doesn't reach his eyes.

  “Ok,” I smile back. “Well if there's nothing else I'm going to head back out and sling some drinks.”

  He doesn't speak, but nods his head and I can feel his gaze travel over the length of me as I rise out of my chair. Moving swiftly to the door, I suddenly feel the need to disappear. The look he gives me isn't one of appreciation, it is more like recognition. Even though I've never seen him before doesn't mean he hasn't noticed me here from the few times I came with Anna and Tristan. I just pray that he doesn't place me and reveal me to whomever the jerks are that have my friends.

  “Hey Beatrice,” he calls out loudly as I yank open the office door.

  The music and heavy atmosphere instantly fills the room. My anxiety leaps into my throat and I slip my hand up to my neck, like I can ward it off by applying enough pressure. Pausing, I glance over my shoulder and force a quick smile at him before he continues.

  “Welcome to Club Toxic.” He winks as I slip out into the hallway letting out a ragged breath and dropping my hand from my neck.

  ***

  Morgan

  Scratching the nagging itch, for the hundredth time, that this damn wig causes, has me really wanting to chuck it in the trash can located behind the bar. At least I was smart enough to opt out of the leather pants Marcus suggested, or I would be scratching my balls all night too. Although, I know it is all an act to flush out Breesan’s attackers and this really is a serious situation, I have to admit playing dress up in this Goth wear is kick ass. Usually when I make my appearance at Toxic I dress to the nines, always Armani baby. When Marcus first explained their stakeout he tried to talk me out of participating, even suggesting if I do go that I could dress casual. I refused. If I am going to do this I must be all in.

  Taking my post at the lower level bar, I have not spotted Breesan since we arrived. Marcus and Kole have rotated positions a few times, going from the dance area up to the VIP where she is stationed. From what I gather by their stressed looks they have not seen her either. I’m not worried, Ensley said she was talking with Tox and should not be too long. What I know about him isn’t much, but he’s always been cool.

  The plan they have implemented has not gained them any new information so far. I can tell they are burned out on this detail and could really use a break. Hopefully, I will be just the thing they need with my contacts at the club.

  “Hey,” Marcus says. “I’m going to need you to go over to the redhead at the second table and distract her. She could blow this whole detail out of the water

  “Why?” I ask, scanning the area for the girl. “Who is she?”

  “Wren Christie, she’s Breesan’s cousin. She may recognize her and I haven’t been able to advise Breesan that she is here. Until then, keep her busy. And whatever you do, do not let her go upstairs.”

  “No worries,” I reply smugly, knowing that once I turn on the Walker charm she will be a goner, just like all the ladies.

  Strolling along the edge of the dance floor, I wind my way around to her table. Sitting alone, she spots me observing the empty chair next to her. Raising one eyebrow up combined with a sexy little smirk, she challenges me to be so bold. Challenge accepted.

  “Let’s dance,” I demand confidently.

  “I’m here with someone,” she replies, but her flirtatious gaze roaming over the length of my body indicates that whoever that dumb ass is, thinking it was smart to leave this hot, little beauty sitting alone, just lost out.

  Clearly she is intrigued, her eyes are locked on my abs. Choosing not to wear a shirt under my floor length, leather duster, combined with ripped dark wash jeans and my black, leather Doc Marten's was a genius idea. She will be an easy mark.

  I extend my hand out to her, emphasizing my desires. She accepts eagerly and we sort our way through the crowd toward the center of the masses. Getting her in the middle of the dance floor, tangled up with all the other dancers is the safest option on keeping her distracted long enough for Marcus to warn Breesan.

  “You are confident. Does every woman fall for your dominance?” She pants breathlessly, appearing turned on by my command and forcefulness.

  Mygod I do love a submissive

  “If you’re asking if I am in a relationship, the answer is no.” Pulling her body close, I sway our bodies to the mournful, hard core song.

  “Oh, no,” she stammers, shifting her eyes around like she is searching for someone. “That’s not what I was doing.”

  Perhaps she is afraid of what the guy she came with will do finding her in my arms. I do not need to get tied up in another damn lover’s triangle. That thought alone sobers me up and I rein in the cad before someone gets hurt, namely me. I have had my fill of fights this past week to last a lifetime. I will leave that shit to Marcus.

  “Do you live on this island?” She asks, enraptured with the fake tattoo scrolled around my throat. I offer her only a small, noncommittal grunt in reply.

  Joined so closely together, I take this opportunity to scrutinize her resemblance to Breesan and it is remarkable how much of a dead ringer she is to my favorite brunette. They match exactly in hair and eye color, but Wren is nearly a half-foot taller than Breesan’s petite five foot four inches. There is definitely a family resemblance with the porcelain skin and sexy, plump lips, mesmerizing me at the moment.

  Gravitating closer, she flattens her hand against my bare chest, gliding it up and around my neck, gripping roughly. Pressing her tits firmly into me, her lips part slightly, allowing a low moan to escape as she nuzzles into my neck. She is absolutely more brazen than her cousin too. Breesan would never shamelessly flirt. Needing to diffuse the situation, I search the upper balcony, that ingresses to the VIP section, for any signs of Marcus. I hope that he’s had time to alert Breesan of Wren’s presence or formulated a diversion, preferably one that extracts me from her allurement. Perhaps it’s her affinity to the girl I recently wanted to make mine, but I am beginning to discern a strong familiarity with her.

  Unsuccessfully pinpointing Marcus or Breesan, I resign escaping her clutches temporarily and glance down at her again. Seductive silvery eyes rivet me struck still, and I breathe in deep as she stares at my mouth expectantly.

  “What is your name?” She asks hungrily, her pink tongue sweeping out of her luscious lips.

  “It’s just one dance,” I respond, breaking eye contact with her. “There’s no need to get intimate.” There is definitely something familiar about her, but I just can’t put my finger on it.

  “Listen, I get it. I’m not into playing games either so why don’t we just say goodbye.”

  Her words echo déjà vu, causing me to glance back down, piercing her heated glare with curiosity. Finally, it hits me. I do know her, or at least someone identical to her.

  “You remind me of a Vegas hooker,” I stumble out my remark before editing. Gasping loudly, her annoyance surfaces and she withdraws from our embrace entirely. Before storming away, she strikes me hard across the face.

  “You’re a real bastard.”

  Clasping my hand against my reddening cheek, I wince at the tenderness, but dismiss it quickly as I notice Wren trudge her way through the thick, gyrating mob, approaching the staircase. Shit, I mentally chide myself for letting her get away, heading exactly where she doesn’t ne
ed to go. I rush forward pushing my way through several tangled couples receiving several annoyed glares.

  Within a few feet of reaching her, I glance up the stairs spotting Breesan descending. Turning my head back to the landing where Wren remains, appearing to be searching for someone again, I halt trying to come up with some damn excuse to keep her from coming face to face with her cousin.

  Slowly she spins around preparing to climb the stairs, when out of nowhere a guy looking a couple of years younger than her places a tender hand on her bare shoulder. Smiling, he leans into her grazing his mouth against her ear as he speaks. She nods her head agreeably accepting his offered hand. He leads her away from the stairs and ultimately out the front door. Exhaling loudly, my shoulders slump and I weakly angle my head around, seeing Breesan’s foot hit the bottom step. She flashes her thousand, megawatt smile oblivious of the close call, and I shake my head disgusted by how close I was to hitting the panic button and screwing this whole plan up.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Breesan

  The energy of the Toxic’s capacity crowd bounces with the blaring “Motorhead” tunes playing while “Beginning Monday” is between sets. So far the night has been one of the more interesting nights since I started working here. Several fights broke out and the bouncers booted all parties involved. The entire crew working with Marcus is decked out in Goth and it appears that they are all enjoying the hell out of their anonymity behind the heavy makeup. As many times as I’ve seen Marcus dressed up I still can’t get over how damn fine he is and tonight is no exception. Hard as I try, I cannot stop looking over the edge of the balcony down to where he is sitting at the corner edge of the bar. We make eye contact every once in a while and each time I am rewarded with a devilish smirk and promising wink.

  Working my ass off tonight I have not had much of an opportunity to observe and I am really getting frustrated by not spotting the abductors after nearly two weeks of this charade. Earlier tonight I decided that just looking for them is not enough. When the crowd thins out a little I am going to start integrating myself into conversations and hopefully extract something useful. I damn sure am not letting Marcus know what I have planned. He would be pissed, but I just do not have the patience to keep waiting around for some freaking miracle to happen.