Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  My breathing is out of whack. I try to take deep breaths to stabilize it, but I can’t get my heart under control. His touch on my lips linger, and I subconsciously run my tongue across them. My heart is grazing faster against its cage. Sweat runs down my temples and swamps around my hips. There, I can feel his touch on me that had been there, but I didn’t even notice because I was so wrapped up in his captivating green eyes. Those things are too bright for this world, too lustrous. I close my own eyes and push faster, harder. I try to keep up with him, but he’s much too fast. And I feel like I’m going to pass out.

  “Slow down,” I wheeze, skidding to a halt. I hunch over and take quick breaths, panting like a 5K runner.

  Why did I agree to do this again? Oh yeah, because Noah suggested I go running to stay awake. Since I refuse to go to sleep, too afraid to face my demons, he says keeping myself active and energized will keep me up. But I honestly think he lied. He probably just wanted to show off that he’s much faster than he was when he was little. I was always the faster one. Oh, how the tables have turned.

  He runs backward and hops on his sneakers. “What was that, buttercup?”

  “I said to…” I trail off when he takes off again down the shopping strip. His laugh is obnoxious and loud as he barrels past a couple, making them curse after him. “…slow down,” I finish to myself.

  I’d love to ask him what the heck happened earlier, but I don’t have the right words or courage. It was weird and unexpected and just…wrong. Yet the simplest touch from him sent me panting, not literally, but you get my point.

  I don’t understand him. He licks ice cream from my lips one minute, then runs away from me like it didn’t happen. Not like I’d want him to do anything about it. We wouldn’t ever date or anything, because, like, gross. He’s my friend—though that title is teetering the more I run—and it’d just fail miserably. All he does is flirt, travel, then flirt some more. He’s like a travel frat guy. But still, back to the point, he’s a complex boy, and I’ve had my fair share of those.

  When I finally catch up to him on the corner of an intersection, he’s still bouncing like the energizer bunny he is.

  “Took you long enough,” he teases, flashing me a smile that makes my stomach tumble. And that’s either because that smile usually has that effect on girls, and I’m a major sucker for it, or I generally am feeling sick. I’m going to go with option number two.

  “How are you not out of breath?” I lean on the lamp post and close my eyes.

  “It’s all about control, Liv.” His voice is steady, and when I open my eyes, he’s standing right in front of me. Eyes deep and green, they hold a strong emotion I can’t place my finger on. But what he places his finger on is my chin, and he tips it up, making my head dip back. “Once you master your breathing and stamina…well, let’s just say you can do whatever.”

  Holy moly…

  I blurt out the first word my scrambling mind can produce. “Cheese.”

  What?

  “What?” He scrunches his eyebrows and takes a step back, letting go of my chin. “You really are tired, buttercup.” He taps my nose and nods his head to the side. “Race you to the coffee shop.” Sending a quick wink, he jets off across the street. I almost think he’s lost his mind until I realize it’s our turn to walk. But I bet he didn’t know that.

  “Cocky son of a…” I shake my head to rid myself of the effect his words and touch has on me. “I really do need sleep,” I mutter to myself, then take a deep breath and take off after him. But I look, even though I know it’s our turn to cross. Unlike him, I value my life.

  I find him in the local coffee shop, sitting at the back. He waves me over with a confident smirk, and I slide into the booth, relieved I’m finally able to get some nice black coffee in my system. I order just that and a muffin since I didn’t eat at all today and it’s now one o’clock. As I wait, I notice Noah’s quieter than usual and on his phone. He’s probably talking with some girl or planning another party with his “bros,” as he so lovingly calls them. I weirdly prefer the latter, but he’s free to chat with any summertime bimbo; I won’t stop him.

  But after five minutes of silence while I mindlessly stir the coffee, I can’t take it. Call me crazy, but I’ve grown used to his endless chatter. It keeps me distracted from thinking about…other things, which is the reason I’ve been up for countless hours straight.

  “So we stopped running for you to spend time on your phone?” I say casually and take a sip.

  He places his hand over mine that is rested on the table; my heart skips a beat as he aimlessly strokes his rough fingers up and down my palm. “A little busy with a transaction at the moment, buttercup,” he says unattached, texting with one hand.

  “W-what transaction?” Did I just stutter?

  He notices and flicks his eyes over his phone, smiling just the slightest. “Don’t worry,” he says, and I give him a blank look meaning “tell me, fool.” He reads my face and laughs. “I have a party to go to tonight, and I’m bringing a little…present for everyone.”

  “What kind of present?” I smile at the waitress bringing over my muffin. I face Noah and take a bite, stopping when I realize he’s been staring at me. He glances down with a knowing smile, and I quickly chew and swallow before I can choke. He reaches over and breaks off a piece for himself, and I raise a questioning brow.

  “You,” he says, popping the piece in his mouth.

  I choke on air rather than the muffin. Go figure.

  “Sorry, what? I am not some thing, Noah.” I kick him under the table, and he throws his head back in laughter.

  “I was kidding, Livvy.” His eyes hover over my shoulder, and before I can turn around and see what caught his attention, he touches my hand again. I face him completely, and he tells me in a hushed tone, “I meant drugs.” Then he gets up and leaves the booth.

  What the hell…?

  I turn around and watch him slide into another booth with a man in a hoodie. I immediately think it’s Grey and worry what he’ll do if he sees me, but then the man glances up at Noah. He looks quite young, maybe eighteen, nineteen? His cheeks are hollowed like he hasn’t eaten in a few days, and his hair is bleached blond. I sink back in the chair and let my head hang in slight disappointment.

  So that’s why we’re here? Not for my sake, but to buy drugs for a party? The more important question is: Why do I feel so hurt?

  “Hey there, blue eyes,” a deep voice booms from in front of me.

  I jump and look up.

  Dean.

  “What are you doing here?” I have the strongest urge to look around just to avoid his invasive stare. But he quirks his head, and I know it’s a signal to hold it attentively.

  “I’m watching over a newbie,” he says, and I instantly know he means the boy Noah’s sitting with. Is he training him as a gang member? Drug dealer? I honestly don’t know what this whole operation’s sole focus is. I think it all intertwines. To rule an area in terror, I guess it’s a smart move to dope them up on drugs, or as Noah likes to put it, “party goods.”

  “Here?” I question. I’d rather he watch over his young drug dealer somewhere else. Honestly, he kind of scares me. And not just because of his scar, which I am curious as to how he got. But because he radiates bad vibes. One look at him and you know he’s done and seen some things—dangerous, illegal things. And sitting with him now has me on the edge of my seat.

  He nods, apparently amused as his eyes rake me up and down. I suddenly regret wearing this tank top and shorts. It feels like he can see under my clothes, and he’s enjoying the view. “Don’t worry, blue, you’re not my type.”

  Ouch.

  “Okay?” I suddenly feel a little better, but not comfortable in the slightest.

  His eyes snap up to meet mine, and I gulp. “But you are one of my boy’s…” He means Grey, I know it. “And his too.” He nods, eyes drawn over my shoulder. I flush, knowing he’s gesturing to Noah.
“One of my best clients. Sure is a partier, am I right?”

  I feel intimidated, so I nod and agree with him. “Sure is.”

  His reddish lips whip up into a smile, and he laughs, slapping the table. People look at him, then look away quickly, too scared to look at him for too long. Imagine how I feel. He leans on his elbows, and I catch a glimpse of black scales running under his rugged leather jacket. But I snap my eyes up from the ink on his arms and meet his swirling eyes, kind of enchanted by how intensely green they are. I bet this is how he lures in his prey. Makes them believe he is a harmless, beautiful sight…then catches them off guard and gobbles them up. Just for fun.

  “I’m trying to figure out how you got that psychopath so wrapped up around your little finger…” he drawls.

  I feel ticked that he’s calling Grey a psychopath. “He’s not a psychopath…and I’m guessing my charming personality.” Did I just sass him? Is he going to murder me? I sit back and anxiously play with the charm and plastic band still on my wrist.

  He watches me as I do, then he chuckles. “Ballsy and just as crazy as him.”

  “He isn’t crazy.” I don’t mind him calling me that—I am—but Grey…he just has some issues, that’s all. They don’t make him insane or anything like that.

  He’s quiet for a few beats, then he flashes his kind of crooked teeth. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night,” he says then stands. I shiver as he drags his fingers along the table, then brushes against my arm. I sit back a little and look up at him.

  “I don’t,” I tell him.

  He narrows his eyes and nods slightly. “See you around, Blue.”

  It’s only when I hear the ring of the door and I finally breathe after what feels like a million years do I realize that he stole my muffin.

  “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

  Noah slides back in his seat, grinning. “Transaction completed.”

  “And asshole number two.” I smile back sarcastically and slide out of the booth with my coffee. I power walk out of the coffee shop. Not only was it rude for him to just up and leave me to buy drugs, but he also allowed that terrifying man to indirectly interrogate me.

  “Hey, wait up!” I hear him yell behind me.

  I pick up my pace while finishing the rest of my coffee. I can’t even stop and enjoy the bitterness on my tongue or the warmth in my chest. I throw it away in a garbage can and pick up my pace. I just want to go home and take a dip in the pool. I need space again, and he’s closing in on me. Before I can get away, I am whirled around and pressed into his chest.

  “Get away from me.” I push from him, but he places his hands on my shoulders and bends down so our eyes are level.

  “Why are you mad at me?” he asks frantically, his eyes shifting like they can read me.

  Spoiler alert: they can’t.

  “Because you left me, and Dean, the gang leader, was being creepy and scared me, and because you were buying drugs in broad daylight,” I say in a hushed voice, nervously looking around. I push his shoulder. “What if a cop walked in? Or someone saw and called them? You could have been arrested, and then I would have had to bail you out!”

  He stares at me for a long time, then coos, “Aww, you missed me.” He playfully waves his fingers in my face.

  “Unbelievable.” I turn to walk away, but he turns me around with a serious face.

  “I’m sorry, okay?” he apologizes. “It was supposed to be a quick thing. I didn’t think about that, though. I’m sorry…Dean sat with you?”

  “Yes, unless you know of any other man with a gigantic snake tattoo on his arm and a scar from a gang war-turf fight or something.”

  “One—that doesn’t happen.” Dimples poke into his cheek, and I roll my eyes. He holds up two fingers. “And two—what did he say to you? Did he try anything with you? If he did, I won’t hesitate to hurt him.”

  I wait for him to laugh because he’s joking, but when he doesn’t, I gulp and slowly shake my head.

  “No,” I tell him. “He did…nothing. He was just being weird.”

  He holds my eyes for a moment, then sighs in relief. “Good.”

  “Great, now that you have your drugs and I had my coffee, I’m going home.” I slip away from him before he can hold me hostage, but he grabs my arm and spins me again.

  Why do guys keep doing this to me?!

  “And do what? Get suckered into another intervention by your mother?”

  “No.” I look away from his eyes, because apparently, they can tell what I am thinking.

  “Don’t tell me you’re going to go ‘swimming’ again…” he warns.

  “It’s none of your business.” My voice is low, and I rub my arms.

  He sighs. “Livvy…you shouldn’t drown yourself.”

  “I wasn’t going to drown!” I snap.

  “Yes, you were.” He takes a step forward and shakes his head. “I don’t understand what has you so spooked you’d want to risk your life…but I’ll be damned sure to stop you.”

  “How? You can’t keep an eye on me twenty-four-seven,” I tell him matter-of-factly.

  He breaks into a grin. “Oh, yes I can.” He tips my head back. “Buttercup, you and I are going out tonight…”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  A few hours later, I am standing in front of a mirror. I am wearing a pair of high-waisted shorts and a pale pink ruffle blouse, with a pair of golden sandals. I’ve decided to go to the party with Noah tonight. I would have said no, but something in those eyes of his just pulled the “yes” out of me before I knew what was happening. And it’s not like you know who will be there. We’ve indirectly officially promised to stay away from each other. Plus, it’s not like he’d be at one of Noah’s friends’ parties. They’re more like frat boys than anything, and they and Grey aren’t exactly best friends. So I think I’ll be fine in that department.

  I would have invited Mason and Mateo too, but the way they’re stealing kisses on my bed behind me, I don’t think they’ll want to leave to go to a frat-like party. I could convince Noah to stay, but that’d only interrupt the couple behind me, and I’d be the third wheel with those stupid eyes of his, teasing and mocking me. Meaning, I’m going out with him on my own. And I don’t mean like a date because that’d just be ridiculous. I mean leaving and being with him only…with a lot of other people, but in a sense, it’s just him and me.

  I don’t understand why I feel so nervous about it, either. We did go to that dock party the other day when I asked him to take me anywhere to clear my head. But I think I just chalked that up to a friendly getaway. It was on a whim and much-needed. And now…now, I’m all dressed up and my palms are sweatier than Niagara Falls, and I can’t stop rubbing my wrist out of nerves.

  “How do I look, guys?” I turn around and make up my face, finding them gazing at each other. “Guys,” I whine, and they laugh.

  Mason faces me first and hums. “Mmmm, you mean for your date?”

  “No, it’s not like that—” I begin.

  “Because if you mean for your date, then you look heavenly.” Mateo flaps his long eyelashes, and I groan and plop onto my vanity’s chair behind me.

  They laugh in unison, making it even worse.

  “Calm down, babe,” Mason says, his laugh softening. “We know it’s just a…” He looks at his boyfriend—yes, they’ve made it official. Yippee—then back at me, stifling a laugh by biting his lower lip. “Hangout between two friends. No hanky-panky or anything like that.” A chuckle escapes, and his dear boyfriend jumps in on the “make fun of Liv” train. I really want that train to derail and burn in flames, with them safely off it, of course…

  “Not funny.” I throw an almost empty hairspray at them. Unluckily, they duck. “Noah and I are just friends, nothing more. Nor will we ever be anything more.” I thread my fingers through my hair before catching it up in a messy ponytail. I take lock after lock, pressing it into my curler, making waves and gently threading through them again until I am sati
sfied with how it turns out. When I look back at them again because it is way too quiet for these two, I find them smiling at me with unsettling looks on their faces. “Oh, shut up!”

  They laugh, and I sigh before perking up when I hear my phone ring with a text message.

  I scoop it up and swipe my finger over the screen.

  Noah: Outside.

  What a simple man he is.

  I roll my eyes playfully and smile while telling him I’m on my way. “I hope you two have a good night.” I stand and throw a shoulder bag on and slip my wallet and phone inside of it. I’m walking out when I hear them both yell—

  “Remember to use protection!”

  ***

  A little later, we stand in front of an enormous, modernized house. Dark wood panels, wide clear windows, professionally trimmed shrubs, and a running water fountain with a chubby cupid. This most definitely is not a frat party. Those idiotic boys would have destroyed these sky-high windows during the first party thrown.

  “Might wanna close your mouth before flies make a home in there,” Noah jokes, placing his hand under my chin.

  I swat his hand away, and he chuckles. “Who lives here?” I ask, trying to reel in my awe as we walk along the cobblestone path.

  “A friend of a friend,” he says, then expands. “He’s an entrepreneur, started some technology company when he got out of Yale and sold it to the highest bidder for six hundred million dollars.”

  “Wow,” I gasp. “What company was it?”

  He shrugs. “Banana? Peach…wait, no! It was Apple!”

  “You are so—ugh!” I groan, and he laughs and wraps an arm around me. I roll my eyes; he can be so annoying sometimes.

  An R&B song is blasting, but it actually sounds good, and I can hear the lyrics, rather than it being a random electronic music that I don’t really care for. We go up the stairs and step into the massive space that is the foyer. There are a lot of people talking, laughing, dancing, and screaming, but it all screams sophistication, yet they’re young—it’s weird, but I like it a lot.