Chapter 6
I don’t like nightclubs.
Actually, I don’t like any kind of enclosed space. Everything about this damn place pisses me off. The overly friendly drunks, the depressed drunks, the stench of cigarettes and weed.
I grew up in a house where both of my parents were drug addicts—any drug, really. If they couldn’t afford the hard stuff, they’d snort and drink whatever garbage they could get their hands on. Maybe psychology would say that’s why I hate drugs so much.
Or maybe—and this is more likely—I’m just a control freak bastard who can’t stand the idea of having his mind clouded.
The truth is I’m not a regular guy. I’m a monster. And monsters don’t get the luxury of letting their guard down.
I’m always watching my back—looking over my shoulder. For me. For Jackie. The girl I always saw as an extension of Martin. She’s like a sister to me.
So the moment I start following her through the nightclub, I know I shouldn’t be doing it. Any closeness between us could be dangerous—for both of us.
I already saved Taylor[6]—the redhead with no memory. My job is done. I can and should keep my usual distance.
Jackie’s not a little girl anymore. She has every right to enjoy her night, have fun. Nothing will happen to her. More than once, I—or the men I assign to watch her when I have to leave the state or the country—have taken care of bastards who thought they could get lucky with my girl.
She’s not at this club by chance. I’m the one who arranged her entry, because here, she’s safe. I’ve got eyes on her the entire time. I didn’t need to follow her inside—but here I am anyway.
When one of my guys told me she was at Vanity by herself, I knew why. And I also knew I’d end up coming after her.
Today marks the anniversary of Martin’s death—her brother, my best friend.
Somehow, getting physically involved in saving Taylor triggered a kind of compulsion in me to get closer to Jackie.
We haven’t spoken face-to-face in years.
The last time was at Martin’s funeral—and even then, I only stayed at the cemetery for a few minutes.
In my line of work, socializing, going to events like normal people do, is a risk.
I deal in calculated risks. I don’t take them just for the hell of it.
I notice Jackie is still moving deeper into the club, like she’s got a destination in mind.
I know she sometimes suspects I’m following her, but I’ve never actually stepped inside a place where she was before—so I don’t think she knows I’m here now.
The fucking club is packed, people bumping into me, and I have to stay closer than I’d like—because at one point, all I can see is a glimpse of her thick brown hair.
Jackie’s never cut it since she was a teen. She’s always kept it long—just the way I told her I liked it once, during one of the few times I let her get close enough.
The arrogant bastard in me likes to think she keeps it that way for me. To please her “middle brother,” like she used to call me when she was little.
Jackie was always a smart, no-nonsense kid—not like most girls, I imagine. She didn’t just want to prove she was as tough as me and Martin. She was.
She rarely cried, and as far as I can remember, it only happened three times: when she lost her dad, Zimmer Alston; her mom, Agnes, about seven years ago; and Martin, a year later.
Everyone’s gone. Now it’s just the two of us. And one day, I’ll make her cry too, whether it’s because I die, which is highly likely and probably sooner than later, or when she finally learns the truth.
We reach the back exit of Vanity, and irritation doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel when I see her heading for the rear door.
What the hell is she thinking, putting herself out there like that?
Is she meeting someone? No. I don’t believe that.
Jackie’s guarded. Careful. She’s not some na?ve girl who sees the world through rose-colored glasses.
She’s a woman raised by three monsters—me, her brother, and her father.
All these years, she’s never put herself at risk.
A strange wave of relief hits me when I step outside and realize no one’s waiting for her.
Maybe she just wanted some fresh air. Or maybe she was trying to skip the chaos of the front entrance.
Still the same good girl.
That feeling lasts only a few seconds because just a few meters from the nightclub door, she stops walking.
“Do I really need to put myself in danger just to make you speak to me?” she asks, not looking back.
It only takes me a second to understand: She sensed me. She didn’t expose herself by accident—she knew I’d follow.
“This isn’t a game, Jackie. This is your life,” I say, speaking to her in person for the first time in a long time.
I glance around, scanning every corner of the dark alley to make sure we’re alone.
She turns to face me, and I watch her step closer. This time, I know I’ll let it happen.
“My life’s been protected since forever, Lucifer. By my dad. By Martin. By you. I’m not looking for protection, I want your presence.”
“You have no idea what you’re saying. We can’t talk.”
“You’re still stuck in the past, Lucifer. You don’t know who I’ve become. You keep treating me like I’m a little girl, but I’m twenty-six now. Maybe I want to take risks. Maybe I want to leave with a stranger tonight and take him home because I’m tired of being alone.”
“Jackie...”
She takes another step toward me and I think she does it on purpose, forcing us under the one sliver of light in the dark alley.
She’s so close I can see her face—features of a woman I never paid attention to before. In that, she’s right: I still see her as a child. But Martin’s sister has become a woman in every sense of the word.
My eyes betray me.
They travel down her curvy body, over hips that are far wider than her small waist and delicate frame. Long legs on full display under a miniskirt that barely reaches past her ass.
Ass?
Since when do I think of Jackie in those terms? I feel like a pervert for even seeing her like that—but that doesn’t stop me.
Her dark brown hair, like layers of bitter chocolate, falls over her shoulders and down her back and chest.
Her face is like caramelized porcelain. Perfect skin with a golden glow, like the sun shines from inside her.
Jackie has delicate features, which contrast with her fierce personality. At a glance, you might think she’s soft. Passive. But then you reach those almond-shaped eyes—blue with hints of gray—and you see her soul.
She’s pure fire on the inside. A small, defiant blaze, and in this unplanned encounter, I let myself look at it—really look—for the first time.
Her full, pink lips are slightly parted, like they’re waiting.
I’m caught off guard by the wave of desire that crashes over me, just from being this close to the stunning woman she’s become.
“Don’t go. Stay with me tonight. Just tonight. I just want your company, Lucifer,” she says, yanking me out of the filth in my thoughts.
I can’t.
Not just because being seen with me could put her life at risk—if someone’s tracking me, but for reasons she doesn’t even suspect.
“Go back inside, Jackie. Go enjoy yourself or head home. I won’t let you put yourself in danger.”
She steps even closer, and I catch the faint scent of alcohol.
“You’ve been drinking.”
“Yes, I’ve been drinking, guardian. And you know what? I’ll drink even more tonight, because I’m done waiting for you, Lucifer. Maybe I don’t want protection anymore. Maybe I want risk. And maybe I’ll find someone tonight who’ll give me that.”