Chapter 14
“Power is given only to him who dares to stop and take it… one must have the courage to dare.”
—Fyodor Dostoevsky
After an hour of trying on outfits, mixing and matching various articles of clothing, I’m finally walking downstairs in a pair of dark-washed jeans that hug my curves, a tight black blouse, and mini heeled boots.
I took the time to do my makeup as well, winging out a subtle smoky eye and putting on a neutral-pink lipstick, which I haven’t done in years. Joel always hated dark makeup.
I take a deep breath when I make it to the bottom of the stairs, mentally preparing myself for the night ahead, then round the corner to the kitchen.
“Where are you going?”
Ambrose’s voice makes me jump, and I teeter on my heels before steadying myself with a hand against the wall.
“Jesus, you scared me.”
His gaze rakes over my body before returning to my face, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was checking me out.
He’s probably just surprised I can clean up so well. I’ve practically been living in sweatpants and t-shirts since I got here.
“I asked you a question,” he prompts.
Oh, right. Asshole. “I’m going to the bar.”
His eyebrows rise before he schools his expression to his typical cocky self. “Why? Do you have a date?”
His tone is off, like his taunting holds more of a bite than normal. Something must have put him in a bad mood today, but I don’t care enough to ask what or why.
“Does it matter?” I fire back with a feigned smile. For once, it feels like I’m the one with control while he’s on edge, and I can’t say I hate the shift in the dynamic, no matter how temporary it may be. He deserves to suffer a little. Or a lot.
Ambrose clenches his jaw, and it takes everything in me not to laugh in his stupid, smug face. Doesn’t feel so good to be taunted all the time, does it, asshole?
“No,” he finally says, his tone too controlled, like it’s taking entirely too much effort to speak normally. “But I’d appreciate knowing if you’ll be out for the entire night. And I refuse to allow another man into my home, so don’t even consider bringing someone back here.”
I snicker. “Relax. The only reason I’m going to the bar is to make the most of this deal you tricked me into making.” I brush past him on my way to the fridge, ignoring the way his eyes stay locked on me.
His tone is considerably lighter when he asks, “Oh, is that so?”
I take a swig of the soda I just cracked open and stare right back at him.
“Yes, and I’m leaving now. I’ll be back sometime tonight.
Don’t wait up.” With that, I stride past him, loving the sense of power that comes with the measured click-click-click of my heeled booties against the hardwood floor.
As I walk, I pull the necklace from its place in my purse pocket and slip it over my head.
I snatch the keys to the Camaro without losing my stride and slam the front door behind me.
Resentment simmers up in my chest. What right does he have to question me like that after he’s the one that’s trapped me here?
He’s given me the rules of our deal, and that should be enough.
I don’t owe him an explanation. Although, it was entertaining knocking him off balance for a change.
I don’t know what’s gotten into him tonight, but he can stew in it for all I care.
I’ve got more important things to worry about.
I park the car on the side of the street, two blocks down from the bar. Close enough for a getaway, but far enough that it’s not in direct view of the bar or any cameras that might be out front. There’s no way to predict how tonight will go, so I can only hope I manage to get out unscathed.
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I step into the dimly lit dive bar and am enveloped by the smell of stale cigarette smoke and beer.
The country music playing over the speakers is barely audible over the cacophony of voices and billiards balls clacking into each other. The open area in the back of the bar has six pool tables, all teeming with people.
As I make my way towards the bar, the soles of my shoes cling to the sticky wooden floor, and my skin prickles with the amount of attention shifting to me. I’m a stranger walking into a small-town bar all alone, and everyone seems to notice.
Quickly channelling the necklace’s magic, I will myself to become less noticeable, to blend into the background. It’s a strange sensation, like a veil dropping over me, and the gazes slip away. Thank goodness that worked.
I take a seat at the end of the bar, tucked into a corner where the shadows are deepest. It’s the perfect place to lay my trap.
I release the energy I’m transmitting to the necklace—or the necklace is transmitting to me.
I’m still not really sure how this works—and catch the attention of one of the bartenders a moment later.
He’s young, probably close to my age, with a wide, charming grin that reminds me of Joel’s public facade. I suppress a shudder and smile back.
“Hey there, sweetheart,” he drawls, his bright blue eyes dipping to my chest before flicking back up to my face. I panic for a second before realizing he’s checking out my cleavage, not taking an interest in the necklace hanging against my chest. “What can I get you?”
“Can I get a can of whatever cider you’ve got? I should probably start light,” I say, giving him my sweetest smile.
“Sure thing. Planning on drinking something stronger afterwards?” The question seems innocent enough, but knowing what I do about him—or who I’m expecting him to be, based on what the women at the diner said and the way his presence automatically stirs uneasiness in my gut—I’m certain I can hear the predatory undertone.
If he’s the right guy, he's probably already planning how to spike whatever drink comes next. That’s part of why I ordered a can—it’s not nearly as easy to drop something into if I’m paying attention.
Still, I need to be certain. The thought of taking an innocent life makes my stomach turn, so I need absolute proof of his guilt before I act.
Only then will I be able to justify it to myself.
“Maybe,” I answer coyly, brushing my long hair back over my shoulder. “We’ll see how the night goes.”
He grins and turns to grab my drink from the mini-fridge. I watch him as he moves, noticing his eyes flick over to me more than once.
When he brings my drink, he lingers, propping his elbows up on the bar. “So, I haven’t seen you around here before.” His eyes dip to my cleavage again. Way to be subtle, buddy.
“Yeah, I’m just in town for a few weeks, staying with my uncle. Figured I’d get out of the house for a bit since it’s Friday night.”
“Well, welcome. I hope your Friday night doesn’t end up being too boring.” He winks. “I’m Jake, by the way.”
“I’m Brielle,” I reply. As soon as I say it, I regret not giving him a fake name. I’m the worst criminal ever, and I haven’t even committed a crime yet.
“That’s a beautiful name. What part of town are you staying in?”
I give him a vague answer about being quite a few miles out, in the middle of nowhere, then immediately launch into a fabricated story about my elderly uncle and how I’m helping him fix up his house.
As I speak, my eyes to wander behind him, taking notice of the fire extinguisher in the far corner, the box of empty liquor bottles marked “Recycle,” and pool cue with a broken tip leaning against the wall beside the door to the back room.
The bartender—Jake—focuses all his attention on me, neglecting the other patrons while the other bartender helps them out.
The entire time we converse, I’m flirting and laughing at his stupid jokes, playing the part of a woman enraptured with his charm and fawning over how handsome he is. Too bad for him, I’m not really into douchey blondes.
Jake finally walks away to close out a different customer’s tab, and I don’t even have time to breathe a sigh of relief before I notice a familiar presence halfway down the bar.
Ambrose sits in one of the stools, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that hugs his biceps. Most of the women in this place are casting inconspicuous glances in his direction, and I realize it’s probably because he doesn’t have his necklace to avoid the attention.
I’m standing from my seat and making my way over to him before I can think about what I’m doing. He’s going to fuck up this whole thing.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss.
He gives me a sardonic smile and signals to the bartender, orders an old fashioned, then turns back to me. “I was interested to see what you were planning to do. When my new pet leaves the house, I’m inclined to find out what she’s up to.”
I grit my teeth, trying to keep my voice low. “I’m not your pet, asshole. You need to leave.”
He merely shrugs, accepting his drink from the bartender and handing him a credit card. “Hmm…” he pretends to contemplate my demand. “I don’t think I will.”
“You’re fucking evil.”
He takes a sip of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving mine. “Can you blame me for wanting some entertainment.”
“Why couldn’t you have just stayed home and been boring like usual?” I ask, though the question is mostly rhetorical.
“No rest for the wicked, baby,” he taunts with a devilish grin. “Plus, I couldn’t miss an opportunity to watch you seduce a man to death. I have to admit, it’s kind of hot.”
I roll my eyes and ignore the chill that runs through me. This is his game, I remind myself. Knocking me off balance just to watch me struggle, and I refuse to let him get inside my head.
I turn away from him, my heart pounding with anger. What a sick, twisted, cocky asshole. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to compose myself, then take my seat at the end of the bar while trying to ignore Ambrose’s existence.
“Everything alright?” Jake asks, nodding subtly in Ambrose’s direction.
I force a smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine. That’s just my cousin. He’s been pissing me off lately, but he’s harmless.”