Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
DAMON
I watch my step, avoiding the uneven stone walkway and patches of dried leaves. As far as I know, the backyard is clear, but I can never be too certain. If I were thinking things through I would have had Leon double check the area from the neighbor’s hacked security feed. He was probably biting his nails and cursing me out for my recklessness.
Murmured voices slip through the walls, mingled with the odd stray note from their music. With a house this old, I know I can get in easily. It’s staying hidden that poses a problem.
Jasper hadn’t mentioned exactly how many people are inside. Could be five or twenty-five. There’s only one way to find out.
Weather-worn bricks scratch against my skin as I peer around the corner of the house to get a look at the backyard. Deciduous trees clutter the sprawling lawn like dusky giants. Maybe I did miss the Northeast? So many hiding spots . A cool breeze cuts at my skin just as clouds shift, allowing the half moon to bathe the space in silver light. I spot the back door, inconspicuous for such an elaborate home. Maybe they wanted it that way.
When I deem the area safe, I twist the handle on the shining knob and it turns smoothly, opening without a sound. It's either my lucky day or shit’s about to get really bad. I’d bet on the latter…Lady Luck never liked me much.
The house smells like wood polish and cigarette smoke. I imagine a disgruntled housekeeper working diligently to keep the place tidy and cursing under her breath at the owner's refusal to smoke outside.
Who lives here with you, Angel?
A protective bubble expands in my gut at the thought of another man laying hands on her. Find Jasper first, then get a better look at her.
The sitting room lies dark and deserted. An unnatural quiet that has my hair standing on end. Parties shouldn’t be this quiet. Keeping to the walls, I make my way past the sitting room and down a narrow hallway lined with expensive looking artwork, only stopping when I finally hear voices and the faint notes of music.
Around the corner, the hallway opens up to a large kitchen and open living area. Her bedroom must be down that hallway to the right. That’s not where I need to focus at the moment.
My eyes adjust to the light as I roam them over the assortment of people in the room. All older, well dressed men and a few younger women. Jasper’s nowhere to be seen.
I squeeze my palm tight enough that my short nails leave half-moon divots in my skin. Fucking loser from Palm Cove probably gave us bogus information. I told Jasper he reeked of desperation. That’s how mistakes are made. How people are easily played a fool.
I watch the suits for a few minutes, listening for any bit of relevant information. Glasses clink, high-pitched laughter rings from a drunk woman’s lips, jokes about so-and-so’s golf handicap are thrown around. This has to be the wrong fucking house. These people are about as menacing as a senior sewing circle. But where the hell is Jasper?
During the next round of drunken laughter I use the noise buffer to creep around the corner in search of the staircase. The worn wooden floorboards creak beneath my feet as I grip the handle of my gun in anticipation. Just as I spot the stairs, one of the men says a name. Brennan. I whip around, holding my breath to listen in.
“Too bad Brennan’s traveling. I haven’t seen him since the last dinner party. When was that?”
“Must be at least a year ago,” another man answers. “That was a night to remember.” Laughter follows clinking glasses.
I fight the urge to turn my earpiece back on and let Leon know what I’d just heard, but a thump from upstairs draws my attention away. Jasper. With blood rushing in my ears and my gun still gripped in my palm, I make my way up the stairs as quietly as possible.
A second thud echoes down the hallway, followed by a groan. I pass a few closed doors, but I don’t give a damn what’s behind them. The only door I want is downstairs— her’s .
“Fuuuck.” There’s no mistaking Jasper’s voice.
Without another thought, I whip the door open, pointing my gun forward. Jasper locks eyes with me and all at once I take in the room. Motherfucker. Is he seriously getting blown right now? I’ll kill him.
The woman starts to pull away, probably sensing me behind her, but Jasper grips her blonde hair tightly to keep her head in place. She moans around his cock, upping her pace as Jasper lets out a hissed groan.
Narrowing my eyes, I motion with my gun toward the door and mouth, “Let’s go.” We need to get the fuck out of here. He widens his eyes and gestures for me to leave.
“Almost there,” he groans, more to me than to the woman stuffed full of his cock. “I’m so close.”
He’s lucky I don’t shoot him in the dick.
I slip out of the room before I do even worse than that and turn my earpiece back on. “Found him and I swear on my mother’s grave that I’m going to kill that idiot.”
“Do I want to know?” Leon answers in an irritated tone.
“Honestly, no. I’m getting out of here. Jasper’s on his own. Meet you around the corner in ten.”
“Good. I was just about to create a diversion and come looking for you.”
“No need.” I start back the way I came, letting my pulse slow down to a normal pace. I notice small details in the hallway that I hadn’t before. A table with framed photos. A large vase filled with dried flowers. Heavy drapes hanging over the window down the hall. That smell of wood polish still lingers in the air.
Jasper sneaks out from the door down the hall as my foot hits the first step. I let out a quiet scoff, ignoring him, and make my way down the stairs against the noises of heated conversation.
“Bro, wait up,” Jasper says through gritted teeth. I pretend he’s not there, conjuring a picture of my angel’s face in my mind so I don’t lose my shit. “Come on, Damon, you’re being a dick.”
Jas may have three inches and a good thirty pounds on me, but that doesn’t stop me from yanking him against the wall and getting in his face. “I’m being a dick? You compromised us for a blowjob from a drunken woman.”
“She mauled me. Literally followed me when I went to take a piss. What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
I narrow my gaze and shake my head. “Let’s get out of here. It’s not important.”
“She’s still in there. Maybe you should take a turn…You’re a little tense.” Jasper steps aside and adjusts his shirt.
“I’m not tense and I don’t want your whore. Christ, Jasper…Come on. If we’re not out of here in the next five minutes Leon’s going to go full Leon .”
“Fuck.”
“Exactly. So get some blood flowing up north and let’s go.” I grip my gun again, just in case, and follow the same path I took to get upstairs.
“I should say goodbye,” Jasper whispers, craning his neck toward the party going on in the living room. “They might think it’s weird if I don’t.”
“Who was the one bitching about getting out of here first?” I ask, growing more irritated by the second.
“My friend upstairs may have changed the tides for me. Plus, I want to find something about our guy. I’ll just go schmooze a little, charm them, then duck out. Won’t take more than a minute.” He looks me over. “You sure you don’t want to join me? Take a break from being creepy for once?”
I lift my middle finger, glancing at the Roman numeral tattooed between my knuckles before piercing him with my biggest fuck off look.
He raises his hands in surrender, fixes his hair, and walks in the opposite direction.
A few steps and I’ll be outside, but I turn toward the dark, empty hallway instead. I know I shouldn’t. I told Leon ten minutes and time’s ticking. He’s not a patient guy. A few minutes late and there’s no telling what he’ll do. I smooth my palms against the wood grain of her door, imagining her behind my closed lids.
Just one minute. One glance. Leon won’t know a thing.
Cracking her door, I slip inside. The uncertainty of how I’ll find her only adds to my giddy anticipation. My eyes dart straight to where she lies and I take in her still form. She’s asleep on her side, facing away from me. One hand is tucked beneath her pillow, while a single leg peeks out from under her black blanket. I trail my eyes over her curves. The dip of her waist, her plump ass. My hands tremble with each step toward her. I can’t get too close. Can’t risk her seeing me here. Not before she gets to know me.
I breathe in her scent, filling my lungs enough to sustain myself until the next time. She smells so goddamn good—I knew she would. Like vanilla and spice…reminds me of a sugar cookie. Mouthwatering.
Time is ticking so I drink her in for another moment, memorizing the portrait tattoo on her thigh and the name of the band on the tour T-shirt she’s wearing. All little details I’ll store away in my mind.
There’s so much to learn about you, Angel. Soon, there won’t be any secrets between us. I’ll know every single inch of your mind, body, and soul.
But first, what’s your name?
I step around piles of clothes on her floor, resisting touching every item, and stop at her dresser. You’re a messy one, aren’t you? Paper notes, jewelry, tubes of lip gloss, and a half-empty energy drink are only a small part of what litters the furniture. I pick up one of the papers and read the name on the top. Blake Hyland. Letting her name roll around on my tongue, I sigh. Blake, the name of my future wife.
I pull out my phone, double checking that it’s still on silent mode and take a picture of the document. It looks like medical paperwork. If she’s sick, I need to know so I can take care of her.
Despite the mess, the room seems empty. No personal touches. No photos or posters. As if it could belong to anyone. Like a blank canvas.
Are you just visiting?
If that’s the case, I’ll need to work fast. I can’t lose her.
On the corner of the dresser, I spot her perfume bottle. An ornate glass sphere filled with amber liquid. I bring it to my nose, inhaling like one would a fine wine. I commit the scent to memory along with every detail I can see in the darkness.
Leon’s counting down the seconds and I’m cutting it close. With a silent curse, I back away, grabbing a discarded pair of her panties from the floor and a necklace from the bedside table.
“Sleep tight, Blake,” I whisper. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She rolls toward me as I reach the door. With one hand on the doorknob, I freeze, holding my breath. When she doesn’t scream or jump up, I release my breath. Her eyes are still closed. Thick black lashes sweep the apples of her cheeks and smudged black eyeliner lines her upper lid.
It’s not until I’m back in the cool night air, away from the incessant chatter of strangers, that I relax my grip on my gun. My hand grazes my pocket where I finger the thin chain of Blake’s necklace and the soft silk of her panties. My chest loosens for the first time that night.