by Jus Accardo
Chase tossed me the ball and sank onto the couch, the same one Rick had when we’d first moved in with him. Shit brown with pale-yellow pinstriping. “She’s always been all about you. Never looked twice at me. Even after all this time.”
“And that drives you crazy, doesn’t it?” I seethed.
Chase threw his hands up. “No arguments here, man. It did drive me nuts. I don’t get the appeal. You’re so dark and broody. I’m fun and charming.”
“And a prick that’ll fuck anything that walks.” I added, throwing the ball back with more force than necessary.
“Is it my fault chicks find me irresistible? They always have.” He rolled the ball between his hands, then tossed it back.
“The girls you got, I never wanted.”
“And the one you got, I did.”
There was no point in talking about it. If Sam found out the truth she’d be horrified—and who could blame her? I was a monster unworthy of love and compassion. Someone like her deserved to live in the light. Not stay hidden away in the dark. “Sam and I have no future together. Do whatever the fuck you want.”
“Since you don’t want her, maybe I will take a swing.” Chase shrugged. “Nothing serious. I have to admit, I’m really curious what she’d feel like underneath me.”
The demon’s rage ignited, mingling with my own emotion and making everything hazy. I threw the ball, this time with enough force to embed it in the wall right beside Chase’s head. “I’ll fucking kill—”
Chase jumped off the couch, taking several of the cushions with him, and threw up his hands again. “Relax, man. I’m just kidding. You know how I love to tweak you. But obviously you have an issue that needs resolving.”
The ache intensified, mouth going dry. Limit. Being here, listening to my brother’s voice, was testing my limit. The demon, sensing a crack in restraint, tried pushing itself to the surface, but I kept it down. Barely. “Could we drop the Sam thing?”
Chase took a step closer. “Look, I’m sorry. Rick said you didn’t want me here, and I get it, but I haven’t seen you in three years. You could have at least called once in a while to let me know you were still alive.”
“No,” I said coolly. I’d felt the demon’s animosity toward him in the past, but since coming home, it seemed to have intensified tenfold. What used to be an itch to punch Chase in the face had turned into something just short of need. “The sound of your voice makes me sick. I want to physically rip you to shreds each time you open your goddamned trap. You’ve always been careless, but are you suicidal, too?”
“I know what you’re thinking—”
The demon roared. I felt it as clearly as the breath moving through my lungs. The internal tremor rocked me to the core and everything momentarily went black. Deep breath. I’d worked for years on keeping the thing controlled in stressful situations. If he wasn’t careful, my brother was going to undo all that progress in a single afternoon. “If you knew what I was thinking, you’d be running right now.”
Chase had the intelligence to at least look worried. He was hovering in the doorway just out of reach. “You can’t leave town, Jax. Not yet. It’s Samantha. She needs your help.”
“She doesn’t need anything from me except distance.”
“At least hear me out, okay?”
Maybe he knew something about what was going on. Something that Sam wasn’t telling me. “Talk fast.”
“About a month ago Samantha came back home. One day she’s going to Huntington, staying on campus, the next she shows up on my doorstep asking me to help her find an apartment in town.”
“And your point?”
“My point is, this is Samantha we’re talking about. She couldn’t get away from this place fast enough, and now she’s back out of the blue?” Chase folded his arms. “I think something happened at school.”
“What could have happened?” The question was for my brother’s benefit. I already knew the answer. She’d been attacked. I’d gotten there just in time to scare the bastard off. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy. It would have given me great pleasure to give him an up close and personal introduction to the demon.
Chase frowned. “No clue. She won’t say.”
“Maybe because it’s none of your damn business what she does?”
Expression darkening, any caution my brother felt drained away, and in a bold move, he stepped closer. “Lemme guess. She lied to you, didn’t she?”
She had, but I’d seen through it.
Chase grinned. The smug satisfaction in his expression made me—not the demon—want to smash his face into the wall. “Well, maybe in her eyes it was a lie of omission. That car going into the river wasn’t the first accident she’s had since coming back home.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Was there a connection? Had the person who attacked her at school made other attempts?
“Ask her. You’re the only one who has any hope of getting the truth. She pretty much brushes everyone else off.”
“You ask her. You’ve been here with her all this time.” The demon was getting antsy. Hands gripping the doorframe opposite my brother, I growled, “And you two seem pretty fucking cozy.”
“Get over it already,” Chase snapped. He took a deep breath, and his expression cooled a little. “I know this is hard for you, but I’m just asking you to stay for a few days. Just find out what’s going on.”
The demon flooded my mind with images of bodies washed in blood and screaming in pain. One body particular—Chase’s—made me sick, but at the same time, filled me with a twisted sense of satisfaction. I couldn’t take it anymore. “You need to leave.”
“What about—”
“Get out!” The scream tore from my throat like a weapon, leaving me edgy and raw. Beyond the front door, a dog started barking and a car alarm blared to life. “I don’t trust myself to keep it away. Go. Before. I. Tear. You. Apart.”
My brother sighed and backed away. “You’re here. I’m here. Like I said before, you haven’t done any real damage, man. You had the strength to walk away at McCarthy’s. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
I braced both hands against the doorframe, gripping the wood until my fingernails dented the surface. “And you’re giving me too much.”
Chapter Eight
Sam
Not bad. I smoothed the skirt and examined my reflection in the mirror. A black lace mini paired with a deep-burgundy bustier. I’d never worn anything like it, but tonight’s festivities called for something a little more dangerous than the usual jeans and Viking logo black tank. A little self-conscious and a lot exposed, when this was all over, Martin better be giving me a damn raise. To combat the drop-off in business due to the Gentleman Stalker, he’d decided to make Fridays theme night. The theme? Gothic hotties.
I fluffed my hair and slipped into the pair of boots I’d worn on Halloween two years ago. The skirt was a little short for my taste and my makeup was heavier than normal. Awesome. I looked like a Gothic hooker. If I managed to get through the shift without breaking an ankle, the night would be a raging success.
Calling in sick had crossed my mind, but other than the fact that I had less than twelve dollars in my bank account and rent was due in two weeks, it was actually good I was working tonight. The busier I stayed, the less chance that my mind would wander. Denial was my best friend. Always had been.
I’d been fine before getting the call from the car place. Cut brakes were not an accident, and that shot my theory to shit, bringing up a ton of other, scarier, possibilities. Last week I’d nearly been run down crossing the street on the way to the library. A few nights ago, there was an attempted mugging on the way out to the car after work. Bad driver. A shitty part of town. An old clunker…
But it wasn’t about an old clunker anymore. It was about brakes.
That had been cut.
My accident hadn’t been an accident.
I pulled the rental car into the lot behind the
Viking. The club, housed in the old Kmart warehouse, was wild on its quiet nights. I could only imagine what kind of a crowd Martin’s theme night would bring. Resigned, I slipped in through the back door.
A slender black woman with a thick Southern accent and warm smile slapped the bar and let out a hoot the moment I walked through the door. Virginia Pells—Gin to most people—was a thirty-year-old who looked like she was twenty, acted like she was sixteen, and dated men in their fifties. She was a kind soul who, unlike most of the people working for the Viking, had gone out of her way to befriend me. “Hell musta froze over because look who just walked in five minutes early.” She let out a whistle. “And damn girl, you look hot.”
“I feel ridiculous,” I responded, peeling off my coat. Tossing it on a hook behind the bar, I immediately tugged at the skirt. The damn thing was so short that one wrong move and the entire club would be seeing London and France. “Thought you were off tonight?”
Gin gave an enthusiastic shake of her head. Long bleached-blond dreadlocks whipped back and forth. “And miss this mess? Not a chance, baby. Not a chance.” She backed away from the bar and I got a good look at her. Gin normally went heavy on the eye makeup, but tonight she was rocking a look straight from the movie The Crow. Skintight leather pants and bloodred thigh-high boots paired with a bright-red bra that she’d covered with a black mesh shirt. “So spill. I heard the evil Flynn boy was back in town. Say it ain’t so.”
I rolled my eyes. Christ. Had Aunt Kelly started a phone chain or something? It wasn’t fair that everyone labeled Jax the bad one. Half the things he’d been blamed for when we were younger were Chase’s doing. “He’s not evil. He just has issues with authority.”
Gin winked. “The way I heard it, you both do.”
She had a point. Jax and I had gotten into a lot of hot water when we were younger. Everything from breaking into the high school for a midnight swim, to stealing the Harlow PD sign. I wasn’t as wild as I used to be, but I had my moments.
The buzzer rang to signal that the doors were about to open, thankfully sparing me from further talk about Jax. All he’d done by blowing in and out of town was stir up the muck that lived inside my head and my heart, and the sooner I could put it all behind me, the better.
As the doors opened and the people began filing in, grinding to the already-pumping music and laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world, I decided to let it go. What was done was done and he wasn’t coming back.
There was nothing here worth staying for.
Those were his exact words.
I glanced down at the small digital clock resting on the shelf just beneath the bar. One a.m. and I’d been hit on, spit on, and grabbed, and narrowly avoided being puked on. All in all, it had been an uneventful night as far as shifts at the Viking went. Still though, it’d been a long day and I was ready to crash.
College hadn’t been the right place for me, and I was no closer to figuring out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life than I had been the day I graduated from high school. Now here I was, dressed like an emo version of a sorority girl, slinging brew instead of drinking it. Not exactly how I’d envisioned my first steps into adulthood. On top of all that, I was the target of a brake-cutting, shadow-jumping lunatic who apparently had a hard-on for me. Yeah. So far being a grown-up was awesome.
A glance in both directions told me no one was looking, so I poured myself a shot and downed it fast. At nineteen, I was allowed to work at the bar, but had been warned that if one sip passed my underage lips, my ass was fired.
It was like Gin said. I had an issue with authority. Besides, my nerves were fried.
By one thirty, the club started winding down. Theme night had been a huge success—which sucked. That meant Martin would do it again. Hell, he’d probably try to do it every night. Apparently an excuse to leave the house in a costume trumped a serial killer on the loose.
“I gotta say, Sammy… That is definitely a good look for you.”
I froze and begged myself not to turn. Once I looked into those eyes it would all be over. He’d have me eating out of his hand. Barking like a dog. Purring like a fucking kitten. Dignity would be a thing of the past. Shit… Drink.
I needed another drink.
Back to the bar, shot glass poised at my bottom lip, an inexplicable nervous twitch ran through my body. I tilted the cup back and swallowed, cringing as the liquid burned my throat, then poured another and did the same. With a deep breath, I faced him. “See now, I’d love to say this is a good surprise, but, ya know… You’re kinda like herpes. Totally unwanted.”
“You’re comparing me to an STD?”
I put my elbows on the bar, leaning forward just a bit, then realized what I was doing. OhMyGod, I’d just unintentionally flashed him. Stupid low-cut top. I straightened and pulled the soft material higher. “Yeah. I think so.”
He straightened as well, meeting me a little more than halfway. His gaze traveled over my body, grin appreciative. “I think you have the wrong Flynn. Besides, we both know you’re excited to see me, Samantha.”
Tingles. I got tingles every time he spoke my full name. He always managed to make it sound so sultry. That single word uttered from those perfect lips had the ability to turn me into a pile of goo. He knew it, too. Made sure to drop his voice an octave or two whenever he said it.
He shifted to the right, revealing part of what looked like a black tribal tattoo. The itch to see the rest of it, to know where it ended, was driving me nuts. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t drag my gaze from his arms. His strong, toned arms… “Back for another bucket of puke?”
“I owe you for that.”
“I know.” I pushed off the bar and started wiping down the counters. “How about you run away again. That’ll teach me.”
“Sam,” Martin slammed a hand down against the bar to get my attention. “Start restocking. Gillian can watch things here.”
Yeah. And Gillian could use her padded personality to steal my tips, too.
Grumbling, I turned away from Jax and headed for the corner of the room. The only storage was in the basement and I hated going down there. Normally, I would have argued to have someone else do it, but with Jax standing there, I wanted to stand around and talk to him—which made me itch to get away.
I was almost to the door when I realized I had company. Seriously. This day couldn’t get any worse. “Stalking me? Really?” As if I didn’t have enough of that crap going on already?
He shrugged and held the door open wide. “We were talking. I figured we could walk and talk.”
“We weren’t talking, Jax. You were talking—I’m convinced it’s because you love the sound of your own voice. I was trying to walk away.” I gestured to the steps, then started down them, holding tight to the railing so I didn’t end up in a heap at the bottom. “Exhibit A.”
He wasn’t deterred. “I wanted to give you a chance to apologize.”
Apologize? Was he kidding? I opened my mouth, and then closed it. No. This is what he wanted. To get me going. Instead of answering, I went down to the bottom and made my way through the narrow aisles toward the liquor storage as though he wasn’t there.
“Nothing fancy,” he continued. “A simple ‘I’m sorry and want to make it up to you’ works for me.”
I couldn’t keep my mouth closed any longer. Reaching the end of the row, I turned on my heel and pinned him with my most intimidating glare. “What the hell are you doing, Jax?”
He stopped a few feet away. “Waiting for my apology?”
“Try waiting for rabid monkeys to fly sideways out of my ass,” I snapped. “I mean, here. What are you doing here? You skipped town with no notice three years ago, then you pop back for no reason. You say you’re leaving, yet here you are.”
He stepped closer. “In a rush to get rid of me?”
I wasn’t. But I was. And then I wasn’t. There it was again. That damn indecision. “Matter of fact, I am.” I backed up until I hit the shelf where the c
lub stored its extra vodka. A loud rattle and several clinking bottles, and one zoomed from the top, past my right side. It happened so fast. One second Jax was in front of me, the next he was on my right side, a bottle of vodka clutched in his hand inches from the ground.
He straightened and handed over the bottle. “There. I saved you from having to explain why you broke a bottle. I think I deserve a thank-you.”
The air caught in my throat. There was a mischievous tilt to his lips, but also a stark seriousness in his eyes. I hated how it made me feel. Comforted by the familiarity of it, while at the same time, betrayed because he’d left me behind.
Jax was the one who, up until the night he disappeared, had always been there for me. He brought me back to life after my parents died, the only person who’d been able to reach into the darkness and yank me out.
Our relationship had been the most natural thing in the world. Like breathing or the rotation of the planet. We were made for each other, two halves of the same whole. It’d never occurred to me that we wouldn’t end up together. Then he found the courage to tell me he felt the same way, and was gone the next day.
I needed to say something witty to break the tension. “If you’re going to try negotiating another kiss you’re out of luck.”
A wicked smile crept across his face and suddenly it was impossible to concentrate. The basement, normally so much colder than the main floor of the club, felt like Texas in July. My clothes, the ones that only a moment ago felt too revealing, were constricting and in the way. He leaned across and took the bottle, making a move to put it back on the shelf. On the way up, his arm grazed my cheek, the sleeve riding up so that it was skin on skin, and a tiny gasp slipped from my lips. He stretched farther, like he was trying to reach the next shelf, letting his free hand skim up my bare arm and past my shoulder. The touch was so light, barely there, yet the most incredibly electric thing I’d ever experienced. It left me burning and desperate, on the verge of dragging him close and begging him to put his hands all over my body.