Chapter Eight Rey
“Are you hungry or do you want to take a shower and change into fresh clothes?” Abra asks me after he ends the call with his friend, Cicero.
“Do I have time to take a shower?” I ask.
“Yes. It will take Cicero about thirty minutes to get here, and since I’m certain he wants to bring his research material along with the figurine, he’ll probably need another ten or fifteen minutes on top of that.”
“I don’t have anything to change into…” I start, but one of the women who greeted me hops up from her place on Hex’s lap and takes my arm.
“I have clothes you can borrow,” she says. “I’m Cleo, by the way, Hex is my man.”
“I’m Rey,” I say as I follow her up the stairs while she chatters.
The long hallway extends the full length of the building.
Cleo stops in front of a door and opens it, revealing a closet.
Inside are supplies like toilet paper, toiletries, towels, sheets, and blankets.
There are containers filled with travel-sized toiletries.
She hands me the towel and piles shampoo, conditioner, soap, a toothbrush, and toothpaste onto it.
She gives me the once-over before snagging a bag off a shelf containing similar shopping bags.
With my hands full, she leads me about halfway down the hall before she opens another door.
“This is Abra’s room. He won’t mind if you use his shower.
There are brand-new clothes in the bag along with underwear.
No bra, I’m sorry. Let me know if you need anything else. ”
I thank her before carrying everything into the bathroom.
While I brush my teeth, I glance around the space.
It’s nice. Very masculine. The stone floor is black, as are the cabinets and the shower tile.
The walls are a deep burgundy with bright white trim.
White granite counter, with glass sinks set beneath brushed silver faucets.
The entire room is spotless. After undressing, I hop into the shower and use the items Cleo provided.
They aren’t my everyday products, but they’ll do. It’s nice to feel clean again.
After toweling off, I pull out the clothes and find a pair of leggings in light lavender and a tunic in several shades of purple.
I put my dirty clothes inside the bag and open the bathroom door.
Standing in the room is Abra. He has his shirt off as he rummages in the dresser.
His back is to me, and damn, it is a spectacular sight.
He’s all muscle and smooth skin. He has the perfect male form, broad shoulders that taper into a tight waist. His jeans cup the globes of his muscular ass.
Seeing it makes me want to take a bite. Hell, I didn’t know the sight of a guy's back could have me panting with desire. If his back looks this good, what does his front look like? It isn’t until after I’ve studied every inch of his body that I realize he’s facing a mirror.
His eyes are on me. Locking eyes with Abra, I see him smirk.
Great! Now I want the floor to open up and suck me in.
“Like what you see?” Abra asks, his tone teasing. He grabs a shirt from the drawer and turns, giving me a good look at the front, and yep, that’s pretty fucking spectacular, too. I surreptitiously wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth. He chuckles at my maneuver. “Drooling?”
I narrow my eyes at him before turning away to leave.
I feel him come up behind me and hold the door so I can’t escape.
His body is so close, I can feel the heat wafting off him.
He smells amazing. All I want to do is turn and snuggle into his hard body, but I stop myself.
Instead, I step away from him and glance up into his grey eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He raises his hands in surrender, but never loses the smirk. “I’m just making sure you make it downstairs safely. Wouldn’t want to lose you in this big place.”
I shake my head and nod toward the top of the stairs. “I think I can manage.”
He says nothing more as he joins me in the hall. I want to stay silent, but his presence makes me nervous. I don’t often get nervous, but when I do, I tend to babble. “This place is amazing. It used to be a plantation, right?”
Abra nods. “It was. Hex’s ancestors lived here as enslaved people before they escaped and fled to Mexico. He bought the place a few years ago. It was in terrible shape. He fixed it up, along with help from Dixie and his mother, Desdemona.”
“His family were slaves?” I ask, stunned. “He doesn’t look black.”
“It’s there, but diluted. Same for me. We’re Creole.
At least I think that’s my heritage. I only knew my father, but he never talked much about our heritage.
The only thing I know is that my great-great-however-many-greats grandmother was a slave to a man who forced her to be his mistress.
She gave birth to a son. That son grew up to kill the bastard who beat his mother to death. He, too, ran off to Mexico.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “I didn’t know them, and their story isn’t the worst I’ve heard. He got his revenge and gained his freedom. That’s not too bad. I’ve thought about researching my ancestry to find out more, but honestly, I’m not sure I’m all that interested.”
“You’re not interested in history?” I ask.
“I’m not interested in my history,” he corrects me with a sad smile.
“My family never amounted to much. My dad was a gambler and a drunk. He never held a steady job, so we called the streets our home more often than not. He’d occasionally put together enough money to rent a place, but it never lasted.
He died when he chose the wrong mark and fumbled the lift. ”
“But, you made something of your life. Lucifer’s Heir was extremely popular. You sold out all your showings. I know, because I only managed to get tickets one time.”
He grins down at me. “You saw the show?”
I nod. “I did. It wasn’t at one of your usual venues. You were doing a charity event for a children’s home. My brother took me because he knew I wanted to see you in action.”
He nods as he considers my words. “I remember that show. We raised a decent sum of money for the kids. It was one of my last shows.”
“I remember. I was surprised when you retired. Do you mind telling me why you decided to give it all up?”
We’d reached the bottom of the stairs by this time—Abra holds out a chair for me at the end of the crowded table.
Everyone is already seated and eating soup and sandwiches.
Even as I scoot my chair up to the table, a young man delivers a bowl of soup and a sandwich to me—a second man who looks similar to the first hands Abra his meal.
“Thanks, Conor,” Abra says, before turning to me. “Danny and Conor are brothers. They’re the adopted brothers of our VP, Dixie. We all went to Ireland just over a week ago and brought them back with us. They’re prospects who will eventually be patched into our club.”
I smile at them both before turning my attention to Abra. “Were you a prospect once?”
Abra smirks and shakes his head. “No. When Hex started this club, he needed members, not prospects. Dixie and Lake knew Hex when they served together. Hex met Pirate when he needed some tech help. Zip was the only one who prospected for the club, but he was only a prospect for about two months. He saved Hex’s life and earned his patch. ”
“And what about you? How did you end up here?”
He grimaces before staring off into the distance. I can see he’s putting his thoughts in order, but the look on his face tells me that he’s trying to censor the story.
“You’re planning to lie to me, aren’t you?” I ask. “You don’t trust me? I get it.”
He shakes his head before locking eyes with me.
“I don’t want to put you in a bad position.
I did something that almost cost me my life, and it hurt someone I care about very much.
If Hex hadn’t found me when he did, I’d be dead.
So would my friend Cicero. Cicero saved my life, but if it wasn’t for Lake and the others, both Cicero and I would be dead.
The worst part is, I was at fault for all of it.
I wish I could blame someone else, but I made a rash decision and almost paid the ultimate price. ”
“What did you do that almost got you killed?” I ask. I hadn’t noticed that the door to the clubhouse had opened to allow a man to enter until he plopped down in the chair next to mine and spoke up.
“He believed his own hype about being protected by Lucifer himself and took on two men who wanted to use him as a pincushion,” the man says as he spreads several papers out on the table.