Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
RACHEL
“If I’m going out, she should be allowed out too,” Zoe says.
We’re all standing around the kitchen island.
C has called in a number of the C Crue soldiers to provide a show of force as Zoe and C go to a banquet at the high school to celebrate the dance team’s performance at the national competition.
It was Zoe’s first year coaching, and her team placed in the top five.
“C, Rachel helped choose the music and create the mix we used,” she says, leaning into him. “I was so pressed for time. I couldn’t have done it without her.”
C looks at her. “Hey,” he says, shaking his head. She puckers her lips close to his, flirting shamelessly as she implores him. His hand slides to her lower back, squeezing her ass as he gives her a quick kiss. “Not my call, baby.”
“Please,” she says.
“Not my call,” he repeats.
She pouts, then sighs. She turns and looks at me, then over at Sasha speculatively.
“Why don’t you try that, Raven?” Trick asks, sitting on a barstool and taking a swig of Jack and Coke.
I feel Sasha’s eyes on me. I don’t look at him.
I’m not like Zoe. As a performer, she’s front and center, all in, and so charismatic anyone would give her anything.
I prefer to be down in the orchestra pit or on a corner of the stage where the spotlight has trouble finding me.
Plus, right now Sasha and I aren’t on good terms. He’d probably let me beg and then say no, to remind me I’m his prisoner again.
“Never happen,” I say and then walk quickly away. I don’t really see what’s in front of me. I’m waiting to see if he stops me. He doesn’t.
I find myself in the game room, at the wet bar. I find Plymouth Navy Strength Gin and pour three fingers into a glass, add ice, a splash of tonic, and a lime wedge. I drink it standing up and make another.
I’m wearing one of Sasha’s T shirts over a pair of Zoe’s drawstring shorts. It’s like a sinister pajama party for just me. Everyone else is dressed in their own clothes and free to do what they want. Except me.
“Challenge him to a game. If you win, we all go to the school,” Trick says.
“Stop egging me on. Things are bad enough,” I say softly into my glass.
Trick comes to stand next to me and gives my shoulder a nudge with his elbow. He pours mostly Coke into a glass with maybe half a finger of Jack Daniel’s. He drops the leftover lime on the cutting board into his glass.
“Come on,” he says.
“I don’t know how to play pool.”
“I’ll play through for you.”
I glance at him. His clear blue eyes have a mocking glint I suspect is very dangerous.
I take a huge, poorly planned swig of my drink. I’ve made it so strong I have to exhale a cough. “We’re in a fight.”
“So what?” he says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “I think he’s in a fight with me ninety percent of the time. Doesn’t stop us playing pool or cards.”
An arm around my waist lifts me sharply from the floor, making me spill my drink so icy liquid hits my thigh.
“Hey, ‘Vil,” Trick says, toasting him with his glass. “Need a drink?”
“No.”
Sasha sets me next to a couch that’s along the wall. I rub my thigh, giving him a harassed look.
“You made me spill my drink,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. I’m frustrated, and I want him to know it.
“How about a game?” Trick says to him.
Sasha shakes his head.
“All right. Then I guess I’ve got time to teach Rachel. You’re going with C as a bodyguard, right? So it’ll just be me and Rach here, needing to occupy our time.”
“Don’t start shit you can’t finish,” Sasha says.
Trick grins. “Haven’t heard that one in a long time.”
Sasha says nothing.
Trick finishes his drink. “She’s getting stir crazy. Why don’t we—?”
“If she’s stir crazy—or anything else—she can tell me herself. And I’ll decide what to do, or not do, about that.”
Trick holds up his arms in a gesture of surrender. “Gettin’ pretty gothic up in here. What’s next? You lock her in a tower?”
“You know one around here? Where is it?” Sasha murmurs.
Trick laughs softly. “Fuck, ‘Vil. She’s not a real princess. You know that, right?”
Sasha raises his middle finger.
Trick nods. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Trick sets his glass down and leaves.
I lean against the couch, watching Sasha. I see the muscles in his arms flex and then relax. I finish my drink, my head already buzzing. It’s midafternoon, and I’m drunk.
“I want my violin. And my birth control pills. Zoe can get them while she’s out.”
“Did you tell Trick that?”
I shake my head.
“Good.”
“Don’t be silly, Sasha,” I say.
His gaze snaps to my face.
“I don’t care about Trick. And he doesn’t care about me. We’ve only got one thing in common. You.”
“Women go for him. When he pays attention to them—or even sometimes when he doesn’t. That’s a fact.”
“He’s not my type.”
After a beat, he asks, “If you want to go out, why don’t you ask me?”
I look down at the ice in my glass. “Because.”
His voice is closer when he speaks, and it surprises me again that he can move so quietly. “Because?”
I raise my eyes. “If you said no—” I shake my head. “It would hurt.”
His breathing takes on weight, growing heavy. “Am I supposed to trust you? I left you alone, and you walked three and half miles through the woods to escape.”
“You kidnapped me. If you can’t trust me, whose fault is that?”
“If I take you out, do you swear to do what I tell you to?”
My heart thuds in my chest. Do I even know what I’ll do if I have the chance to be free of him?
“I’m not sure what I’ll do,” I admit.
The corner of his mouth curves up.
I sip the drops at the bottom of my glass, chewing on a half melted cube. My gaze returns to his face. “Should I try to talk you into it? Should I be Zoe?” I ask, batting my eyelashes. I catch his shirt in my left fist and try to pull him toward me. “Please, Sasha?” I mock beg, then pout my lips.
“Cut it out,” he murmurs.
“Zoe’s sexy enough to pull that off. I’m too—something. Serious?”
He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. He lowers my hand and releases it.
“Find something to wear.”
I smile. “Really?”
He nods.
“So it does work for me,” I say, batting my lashes.
“That’s not what works.”
I tuck the tips of my fingers in the front pockets of his pants and pull myself forward, so I’m flush with his body. I crook my finger to get him to lean down. He does, and I rise up onto my toes and brush my lips over his neck. “Thank you.”
ANVIL
Fuck. It’s what I want to do when she comes downstairs in a black and burgundy lace dress.
“Hello, Patience Raine,” Trick says under his breath, referring to a vampire victim turned vampire hunter in one of the book series she reads. “Remind me what you see in her again, ’Vil? Oh, right, the fact that she can pull off a corset-topped dress at four in the afternoon.”
“That’s some dress,” C says, looking her over.
“It’s all I have here. I wore this to a club in Boston. We stayed overnight and the dress ended up at Zoe’s apartment because I wore jeans the next day. I guess I’m lucky I forgot it.”
“What club?” Trick asks.
She arches a brow. “Why? Have you run out of girls to corrupt in town?”
He smirks. “Not at all, since I’m hoping Anvil’s going to let me try to corrupt you.”
Fuck off, I think, but outwardly I ignore his attempt to bait me.
Zoe appears at the top of the steps in a short bronze dress and towering heels. Five miles of leg showing, she steals C’s attention.
“The goddess descends,” Trick says, still smiling, but now looking at Z.
“You need a girl of your own, Trick,” Zoe says.
“Maybe I’ll kidnap one. That’s become a C Crue special.”
She laughs merrily and gives his arm a squeeze as she passes. “We’re going to be late. Hurry, C.”
C doesn’t hurry. “Don’t touch that doorknob, Z.”
Her hand freezes and she purses her lips. “We’re going to be late.”
C swats her ass. “Next time get ready faster.”
We cut out a side door, and C gets in the first Rover with Zoe and one of the soldiers.
I take the wheel of the second Rover. Rachel reaches for the passenger door handle, but Trick blocks her and puts her in the back with him, which we’d decided on earlier.
If things go down, I don’t want her in my peripheral vision, drawing my attention, and she’ll be safer in the back seat anyway.
“All good, ‘Vil,” Trick says.
I wait out the line of cars that makes its way down the street. C in the lead, two C Crue cars following, and then two with New York plates. So far no Palermo cars in the mix.
“We could skip the school,” Trick deadpans. “Head to Waffle House. Get a couple of Belgians.”
Rachel laughs softly. “Are you always like this?”
“No. Sometimes I suggest pancakes. I’m partial to blueberry. ‘Vil doesn’t care for pancakes. He’s steak and eggs all the way. Though I’d imagine burgundy lace might convince him otherwise.”
“Stay sharp,” I say, not wanting to think about peeling off Rachel’s dress while I’m driving.
It’s a short ten-minute drive, and we get there without a problem.
The walk into the building is uneventful, too.
The front entry’s been redone. It’s got some retro parquet wood design in the floor that Frank paid for, trying to get back in the school’s good books after pulling funding when they didn’t expel some kids he blacklisted for not joining his organization.
Five years ago, those kids wouldn’t have had the nerve to defy him, but we’ve spread the word that we’ll protect anyone under eighteen who doesn’t want to be a runner for the Palermo organization.
His power is eroding, led by C Crue’s resistance.
A group of girls hurry by, dressed in matching dresses with skirts made of scarves. Their hair is teased into wild ringlets and their hoop earrings could be bracelets. They all look like mini Zoes.
I don’t realize the tight hold I’ve got on Rachel’s upper arm until she murmurs my name and glances at my hand. I ease my grip, but don’t let go.