A guy with a bandanna stood close, eyeing me suspiciously. I hadn’t seen him around, but new didn’t mean amateur. People came from all over to challenge us. Okay, me.
Or they used to.
“Carl here thinks he can hang with the big girls,” Juice said.
“Don’t you mean big boys?” a husky guy with glasses asked. He stood near the car Juice had been checking out, and I could only assume he was some kind of wingman.
I glared at him, but Juice was the one to snap, “Around here it’s the female who does the ass-kicking. You got a problem with that?”
“No problem,” Carl, the skinny bandanna said. He glanced at me. “I can hang.”
“Hmm.” I eyed his setup but remained quiet while Juice finished his perusal.
Finally, he slammed the hood closed and pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket, wiping his grease-stained hands. Around us, voices rose as more of the regulars arrived for tonight’s events.
We had everything; from rice rockets built out of Mom’s allowance to supercars custom ordered with trust fund money. No judgment from me. It didn’t matter where your car came from or even what kind it was. Out here, all that mattered was you could drive worth a shit. If you couldn’t, you were either left in the dust or, in a very worst case scenario that had only happened once, taking a fast dip into the Mississippi.
I loved how the roads never cared about things like class and money.
“Well?” Carl demanded when Juice remained silent.
Juice shot me a look then leveled his gaze at the new kid. “It’s not terrible,” he said finally.
I hid a smile. It was the closest Carl would get to a compliment, whether he knew it or not.
“What does that mean?” Carl asked. “Can I race or not?”
“Sure, why not? Manny’s sick, and I’m one short.”
Carl’s eyes lit up. “Sweet.”
“Get your ass moving, though. You’re up next.” Carl said it lightly, but I knew better. If he was putting Carl in, Juice saw something in him. Good for me, since I was about to leave Juice without his best driver.
“Cool.” Carl hopped in and started his car, angling it toward the small opening that would take him onto the empty strip.
“He ever raced before?” I asked Juice as we watched him get into position.
“His brother is Billy Fresh.”
I lifted my brows. “Damn. Well okay then. Hopefully the apple didn’t fall far.”
“We’ll see.” Juice sounded neutral, but I knew better. I’d seen that gleam in his eye before. He was hoping this kid had something.
I also knew now wasn’t the time to drop my little bomb.
“Go get a better seat,” I told him. “I’ll find you later.”
He grunted and began cutting through the crowd. A few bystanders spotted me and waved. I waved back then cut behind them until I’d lost sight of familiar faces. Normally, I’d hang near the front with Juice, but tonight, I didn’t want to get roped into any conversations that required more lies.
“Gem.”
I looked up and immediately wished I’d gone with Juice after all. Dammit. This was one goodbye I’d hoped to avoid.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” I said.
Sparkly blue eyes shone back at me in the darkness. His were slanted thanks to his distant Asian heritage—an ethnicity that only made him more handsome. Perfect skin. Perfect eyes. At least his warlock skills were only mediocre.
“I wanted to see you.”
I bit back a sigh. “Lucky me.”
His half-smile, a signature look for him, dimmed. “You’re not happy to see me?”
“We talked about this.”
“We didn’t talk. We texted.”
And whose fault was that?
“Taking a break means getting some space for a while,” I reminded him.
He stepped closer. “I’ve had enough space.”
The scent of his cologne washed over me, and I tried to hold my breath. That smell had the power to make me stupid. As did those hands and that mouth. But the eyes. Those were the worst.
And right now those eyes were practically undressing me.
His hands landed on my hips. His mouth brushed close to my cheek as he bent low. “Space is overrated,” he said quietly.
Sexily.
Dammit.
“Z, I can’t,” I said, while wondering if I actually could. But no. That would be a bad idea.
“I haven’t asked you to do anything yet.”
“Your eyes are asking. So are your hands.”
He chuckled, and for some reason that triggered common sense. Maybe because the last time I’d heard him chuckle, it had been at the idea of me ever being anything more than an amateur drag race driver.
Asshole.
I stepped back, and this time when I looked up at him, those eyes didn’t do shit for my lady parts.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re done, Z. Over.”
“I know, you said you needed a break.”
“No break. This is permanent.”
“You don’t mean that. Gemmy, we’re good together.” He stepped closer again. “Our bodies are good together.”
“That might have been true for a while but not anymore. Starting right now, this body is good without you. Better, in fact.”
“Gemmy.”
His stupid nickname grated on me.
“Did you know my dad died?”
“I . . .”
He hesitated. Of course he knew. I’d texted him days ago and nothing. Until tonight, when he decided he was horny.
Ugh. Warlocks were jerks. Okay, maybe it was just Z.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Gemmy. I didn’t text you back because I just didn’t know what to say.”
My patience broke.
“I’m leaving, Z. For good. After tonight, I won’t be back.”
His eyes widened. “You’re giving up driving?”
“I’m moving on,” I said with emphasis.
He studied me like he couldn’t decide whether or not to worry.
“If this is about trying to go pro, I want you to know—”
“This has nothing to do with you, Z. Which is why I don’t owe you an explanation. Just clarity. We’re done. Have a nice life.”
My temper had me marching off without looking.
Z let me go—what else did I expect, really? But I hadn’t gone far when I bumped a shoulder I hadn’t noticed in the dark. Z had shaken me more than I wanted to admit if my fae senses hadn’t picked out the human in my path.
“You’re done?”
Juice’s voice was low with surprise, but underneath that, he sounded hurt.
Shit.
“I was going to tell you after the race,” I said, shoulders sagging underneath the guilt. “I didn’t mean for you to hear it that way.”
I glanced back but already Z was gone, vanished into the crowd and probably already hunting for another lady friend who would succumb to his sweet talk.
“I always knew you’d get out,” Juice said, and I blinked in surprise.
“You’re not mad?”
“You’re not a lifer, kid. I can’t be mad at that. There’s something better waiting for you.”
“I don’t know about better,” I said.
And because it was Juice, and because he’d become like a second father to me, at least as far as the roads were concerned, I told him everything right down to my plan to get answers.
When I was done, he whistled. “Shit, Gem. That’s a lot. You sure you want to do this?”
“My father deserves justice,” I said.
He nodded. “I hear that.” He glanced back at the sound of engines revving at the line. The crowd was cheering loudly enough that I wasn’t worried about being overheard. “You can’t come back here,” he added sadly. “After.”
“I know.”
Sadness hit me like a weight. I was seriously going to miss this scene.
“Really?”
He squeezed my shoulder. “You’re family, Gem. Come see me anytime.” His smile turned sly. “Just not here. Because I’ll be damned if I let you arrest me.”
I laughed. “Relax, old man. You’re just a lowly human. Not even on my radar.”
He snorted. “Can’t say I’m sorry about that.”
Juice knew about supes though I could never get him to tell me what led him to the discovery. He had an uncanny way about sensing magic in others, though. He’d known what Z was in less than five minutes. And not just the womanizer player type either.
“Thanks for being cool, Juice. I’ll stop by the shop when I can.”
“Be safe, girl.”
I gave him a quick hug and then started down the alley, circling the crowd to avoid anyone else who might demand an explanation I wasn’t in the mood to give.
“Hey Gem,” Juice called to my back.
“Yeah?”
“Carl Fresh can drive but he ain’t got shit on you.”
I smiled. “Damn right he doesn’t.”
Chapter Four
I waved at the last two customers as they left, and then slumped against the counter. My feet hurt and my thighs ached from standing for so many hours straight. Exhaustion made me cranky. Hunger made me whiny. Not a great combination.
“Ugh. If I never make another sandwich again, I’ll die happy,” I groaned.
From the other end of the counter, Lila offered a wry smirk before tossing a dishrag at me. “Not anytime soon, though, I hope. Your country needs you. Isn’t that the slogan?”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “That’s the human military, smartass.”
“Oh, right. Your species needs you. That’s it.” She gave me a mock salute. “The few. The proud. The demon killers.”
I shook my head and went to work wiping everything down so we could close up.
Lila’s Sandwich Shop was located on the cusp of the French Quarter, so we saw all kinds. Drunk, sober, human, supe—I’d served them all in the five years I’d worked here. All in all, aside from that one incident involving the food chopper, it had been a fun job while it lasted.
“You’re just salty about losing your guinea pig,” I told her.
She laughed. “Of course I am. Who else is going to test out my pickled okra and goat cheese panini?”
“Pickled okra? Lila, gross.”
“You say that now, but it could be genius. Remember the olive and peanut butter croissant?”
“Remember the pastrami and jerk sauce on blueberry scone?” I shot back.
“Ugh. Why do you always bring up the losers?”
I shuddered at the memory of that particular taste combination. “I can’t help it. Sandwich PTSD is real.”
She tossed another dishrag at me. It hit me in the shoulder and left a wet spot that I hoped was only water on the front of my ribbed tank.
“Whatever. It’s better than demon combat,” she said.
“Don’t be so sure.”
Lila’s aunt had been killed by a mud demon several years back. Ever since, Lila had made it a point to confront the supernatural underbelly that existed under every human’s nose. She was pretty good with weird and crazy, which made our friendship work when my others hadn’t.
“Here.”
Lila handed me a package, and I frowned.
“What’s this?”
“It’s called a present, genius. Open it.”
I pulled back the outer wrapping and ran my hands over the soft purple leather inside.
“Lila,” I began.
She grinned. “Put it on.”
I slid my arms into the leather jacket, and Lila whistled.
“Definitely demon slayer material.”
“It’s the jacket from Shepherd’s. The one I wanted to wear for Bazemore.”
Bazemore was the biggest event for drag racers in the state. It came once a year, and I’d been training for it forever. After three years of competing, my record was number two in the state. A title I’d planned to improve upon, until Dad had been killed and his murderer left to roam free.
She shrugged. “Maybe you still will someday. For now, you can break it in while slaying monsters or whatever.”
My eyes burned, but I refused to cry. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You can’t afford this.”
“Of course I can’t. So don’t come around for free lunches or anything. SSF pays full price.”
I snorted. “Fair. And, Lila, thanks.”
She bumped my shoulder. “Break a leg, champ. In fact, sever limbs while you’re at it. Demon limbs, I mean. Not yours.”
“Don’t worry. If I meet one I can’t kill, I’ll bring him in for a sandwich.”
“That’s it, you’re fired.”
I laughed.
It took an hour to close up, and another forty minutes for my going-away drink. By the time I headed home in my new leather jacket, I was feeling loose and a little less rage-y than usual.
The past three months had cooled the worst of it, but my desire for vengeance hadn’t budged. Thanks to watching my mom grieve her mate, it had only grown stronger.
Now it was all I thought about.
Head down, collar up, I walked the four blocks from Lila’s to my mother’s house. Despite the late hour, music and laughter spilled out of the bars I passed. The scent of sweat and alcohol mixed with the undercurrent of magic. Humans lived side by side with supes, and still they only saw what they wanted to.
I couldn’t blame them. If I could turn a blind eye to all the things that kept me awake at night, I would do it in a heartbeat.
Unfortunately, there was no escaping reality. Not for me. Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow, I’d step into a new one. Phase one of the plan.
Tonight, I’d toast my old life goodbye.
Halfway home, my steps slowed as the sensation of eyes on my back settled between my shoulder blades.
I’d felt it more than once since that day at the cemetery. Each time was the same feeling of being watched. But whenever I tried to spot my stalker, there was no one there.
Turning a sharp corner, I glanced behind me.
A hand shot out, yanking my sleeve until I spun and landed hard against the building at my back.
“What—”
“Shut up and listen,” a rough voice said.
Hot breath hit my cheek as whoever had grabbed me leaned in close. The smell of aftershave hit my nose. I inhaled, trying to identify it, but the smell and stance of the man was foreign to me.
Not human.
Not fae.
Shifter, my senses told me. Not wolf. Something else.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” he hissed. “And it won’t work.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I said, anger building as my store of creatures gathered underneath my skin. “Unless you count walking home.”
The hands around my collar tightened until my breath caught.
“What’s done is done. Digging it up will only cause more problems. Don’t show up tomorrow. Go back to making sandwiches. Or you’ll regret it.”
Quickly, I chose a creature. It rose to the surface, transforming my skin from human flesh to thick fur. My fingers became sharp claws. My predator nature took over, and the tiger I’d become lashed out.
I snapped my teeth at the stranger pinning me but the weight of him vanished before I could bite him. A ripple of wind tousled my fur and then he was gone.
Adrenaline pumping, I dropped to all fours and prowled the alley. The smell of aftershave lingered but the man was gone. His scent untraceable in the wet night air.
Damn.
On a snarl, I backed into the darkest corner and let my tiger fade until I was me again.
My mind raced, trying to understand what had just happened. Clearly, my becoming an agent was threatening to someone. Was it someone on the inside? Who else other than the SSF knew I
was reporting in tomorrow?
The more I thought about the stranger, the more questions I had for him. Trying to follow his trail was useless, though. He was just . . . gone. His trail vanished right where he’d pinned me. It didn’t make sense.
I hurried home, all the while keeping my fae senses open for some sign of another ambush.
But there was nothing.
I was alone in the night.
Finally, I turned and headed for my mother’s house.
*.*.*
On the porch, I paused and opened my senses before entering the two-story townhouse I’d grown up in. The energy coating the place had always been strange thanks to the unusual mix of fae and shifter magic wound around the place like some kind of supernatural barbed wire fence. But this was different. Almost immediately, angry magic prickled my skin, and I looked up just as a large hammer blinked into existence and swung at me in a downward arc.
I yelped and jumped back, narrowly avoiding getting smashed in the face.
The hammer winked away, and I was left alone in the dark, hands on my knees, trying to breathe through the heart attack I was fighting off.
The screen door creaked as it opened a few inches.
I looked up at my mother peering out the small opening.
When she saw me, her eyes widened.
“Gem, what the hell. I thought you were a prowler.”
“Nope. Just me. Your one and only daughter. Almost beheaded by your alarm system.”
“I’m so sorry.” She pushed open the door, and I straightened, sliding past her into the house.
My mother leaned out, darting glances left and right into the empty street.
“There’s no one else out there,” I told her, knowing how paranoid she’d been these last few months. “Also, no one says prowler anymore.”
I looked back to see her eyes cast to the ceiling. Her lips moved in silent muttering, and I hid a smile.
“Look, if you just call or text me next time, I can disable the alarm system.”
“And lose out on the chance to test its effectiveness?” I scoffed. “No way.”
My mom gave me a look that said she wasn’t amused.
“Besides, I did call. This morning. Remember? I told you I’d come by for a nightcap when I was done at Lila’s?”
Kiss of Death (Supernatural Security Force Book 1) Page 3