Inception (The Marked Book 1) (6 page)

She laughed. “No kidding. That’s what you get when daddy owns—” She stopped abruptly, softening her tone. “Hey, you!”

I turned around to see Trace walking up behind us.

“What’s up, Taylor,” he greeted her casually. “Where’s Ben?”

“Manning his porcelain throne.”

“Thanks for the visual,” he said looking around, distracted. “What are you up to?” he asked her almost mechanically.

“Just talking shop with my girl,” she smiled big at me and then back at him. “You came up a few times.”

“Yeah?”

My eyes bulged. What the heck was she doing? The last thing I wanted was him thinking I cared enough to discuss him.

“Only good things,” she added.

I turned away in an effort to hide my enflamed cheeks.

He shifted uncomfortably. “You should get back to work.”

“You got it.” I circled on the heel of my foot and was just about to high-tale it out of there when Taylor called out.

“Wait! I haven’t ordered yet.”

Oops
. I turned back around embarrassed, pulling my pen and pad out from my black apron as I returned to the table.

“What can I get you?”

She grinned from ear to ear. She was seriously enjoying this way too much. “Let’s go with Buffalo wings, and a pitcher of Root beer.”

“Spicy or regular?”

“Spicy, of course.” She gave me an open-mouth wink.

“Be right back with that.”

“You’re doing great,” she cheered as I headed into the kitchen to place her order. “Keep up the great work!” 

No doubt all of B.C. heard her on that last one.

By Eleven o’clock, the place was packed wall-to-wall. It looked like every soul in town had managed to find their way over to All Saints, and shockingly, no one seemed to mind the crammed personal quarters or the lack of quality oxygen. The live band was just starting in on their first set when the main lights dimmed down, and the dance floor filled up to capacity. Everyone appeared to have caught that Saturday night fever, and even I couldn’t help but smile from the sidelines as I looked on with my serving tray tucked under my arm.

To my dismay, Nikki eventually showed up and spent the better part of the night determined to get back into Trace’s good grace. I watched as she followed him around the place like a lost dog, hovering all around, nuzzling up to him, and batting her apologetic lashes that looked even faker than the synthetic hair extensions she had on her head.

As sickening as it was to watch, at least she was focused on him tonight, and not me.

Aside from that minor gripe, the job was going relatively well, and certainly a whole lot better than I had anticipated it would go. I even got into a decent rhythm of service and actually found myself enjoying the distraction, and even though I messed up an order that night, according to April, it was far better than the four she messed up on her first night.

I was on my way back to the kitchen to pick up that very order when a hefty man in his late twenties grabbed my arm and stopped me as I tried to pass by his table.

“Look it, Jasper, fresh meat.” He was speaking to his lanky friend, but he kept his beady eyes on me.

“Can I get you something?” I said, roughly shaking my arm free from his sweaty palm.

“Sure. What are you selling?”

“Excuse me?” Everything about him screamed
creep
, from his crooked teeth to the dark glint in his narrow little eyes.

He laughed hoarsely. “You heard me, sugar, let’s hear your specials,” he said and stroked the top of my thigh.

I may have been new here, but I knew enough to know his hand didn’t belong there.

“Get your hands off me,” I said in my most aggressive voice, then took a nervous step back. I imagined I wasn’t all that intimating to a man his size, but I would sure as hell still try.

“Take it easy,” he said as he grabbed out at me again.

I smacked his hand away and swallowed hard as he rose up from his seat, belligerent in every way.

Crap
. This was bad, really bad.

My mind raced as I anticipated what he was going to do next or how I was going to handle it, though none of it had a chance to come to fruition.

A dark figure appeared out of nowhere, abruptly pushing the aggressive man back into his chair. He was leaning down over him now with his face square up against his, and was saying something, though only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

I contemplated getting in closer to get a better view, or possibly running for cover somewhere out the back, but by the time the thought finished, the mystery man was already upright and taking a step back into view, adjusting the flaps of his black overcoat as though nothing had happened.

It was Dominic Huntington—unmistakably.

7. UP CLOSE and IMPERSONAL

I watched in wonder as the formerly aggressive patron stood up from his chair and lowered his eyes to the ground, repentant, as though he had just sinned in the house of God and was begging for forgiveness. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, at what I had just witnessed. The stark change. It was surreal.

“I’m very s-sorry, miss. Please excuse my rude behavior this evening,” he said, and then turned to Dominic for some sort of sign of approval.

Dominic gave him a slight nod and with that the man rushed out of the bar without even bothering to wait for his friend—Jasper, the lanky one—who got up shortly after, confusion draped over his face, and followed him out of the bar.

It was the darnedest thing.

I veered my eyes back to Dominic to thank him for stepping in like he had, though I immediately lost my train of thought as I took in the man before me.

He was even more stunning up close, dangerously so, with dark, penetrating eyes and smooth skin that seemed to glow in the otherwise unforgiving light. He smiled back at me; a sexy, crooked grin that conspired with the soft curves of his face to make every attribute a contrasting feat—alluring and menacing all at the same time.

“I-I—” I had apparently lost my ability to speak.

His lips curved up, pleased by this reaction. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” he said and sat down at the now-empty table, his silky voice reverberating through my skin like the pulsation of my favorite song.

“Dominic Huntington.” He held out his hand modestly, coaxing me to come closer to him.

I practically jumped at the chance to touch him. “Jemma Blackburn,” I said, overly perky.

His hand was silky and soft, cool to the touch. I felt a strange sensation as soon as my hand touched his, almost as though my skin were numbing. I shook my head as if to chase away a spell and then remembered my manners.

“Thank you for that,” I said motioning towards the exit. “I don’t know what you told him, but—”

“It was nothing.”

“No, really, thank you,” I repeated meaningfully.

He gave a lazy smile. “It was my pleasure, Jemma.”

My name had never sounded so appealing.

“To be truthful,” he baited, his voice lower now. “I’m happy to have finally had the opportunity to meet you.”

My eyebrows pulled together.

“You must know you’re not particularly an easy person to get next to, Jemma.”

I laughed outright. The idea that somebody that looked like him was having a hard time approaching somebody like me was downright amusing. “Yeah.
Right
.”

His eyes flared briefly, drawing attention to the thin scar that sliced through his right eyebrow. I wanted to reach out and touch it, comb my finger over it, know its story and burn it into my mind. But I fought back the urge.

“So, um, what can I get for you tonight?” I asked him, reigning myself in. “Anything you want. It’s on me.”

“Anything?” he challenged. His eyes darkened into the kind of stare I was always taught to be weary of. It made my legs want to run away and buckle all at the same time.

“Yes.” The word sailed out way too easily. “No! I mean, yes, anything on the menu,” I corrected, sans grace. “But if you want something from the bar, I’ll have to call another waitress.”

His lips pressed into a line. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Something to eat then?”

His mouth turned up again. “Later. Perhaps.” His expression was amused, almost mocking.

Did I miss something? Was he laughing at me?

“Your bodyguard is watching,” he said unexpectedly.

“My what?” I asked, and then followed his gaze over my right shoulder to Trace who was standing across the way from us looking wholly irritated. And of course, the never-too-far-away Nikki was right there beside him, watching him as he watched me. The whole thing made me want to hurl.

I turned back to Dominic who cocked his head, unaffected.

“If you’re not going to order anything, I have to get back to work,” I explained. “I don’t want to get fired.” And by the look on Trace’s face, it was a definite possibility.

“I understand,” he said, rising from his seat.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

He didn’t answer, though he took a step towards me, and then sort of around me, brushing against me as he moved. I shadowed his turn as if I had been tied to him with a string.

“What time do you finish?” he asked, leaning into me in a way that jumbled all the thoughts in my mind.

“I-I—” I couldn’t speak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Two thirty. I finish at two thirty.”

He offered another smile—a delicious crooked grin that made the water pool inside my mouth—and then he walked away, leaving me standing in a puddle of my own drool.

It took me a minute to get myself together, to reel in the racing thoughts…like why he wanted to know what time I finished work at? Was he planning on meeting me? Was I supposed to wait for him? I had no idea what just happened, but I could feel my heart racing at the thought of seeing him again.

And why wouldn’t I? He was gorgeous, and he definitely seemed interested in me. And after everything that happened to me this year, it felt like a damn good idea.

I took a deep breath and collected myself as best as I could. When I circled back around, I found Trace and Nikki—and now Taylor and the rest of the gang—staring at me in a sea of unhinged mouths and wide eyes.

There was no way I was walking into that pack of wolves. I turned on the balls of my feet and headed straight for the back-house where I would spend the rest of my shift counting down the minutes until closing time. 

I managed to avoid Nikki, Trace, and even Taylor for most of the night, keeping them at bay by way of my increasingly convenient job. Everything was going well on that front until closing time reared its highly anticipated head. As soon as the place began to dwindle in bodies (and hiding places), it was clear my run had come to an end, no more so than when I came face to face with Taylor in the kitchen.

“Ok. Spill it,” she said, cornering me at the sink as I brought in another load of dishes.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dominic Huntington!” she shrieked, alerting everyone within a ten mile radius about our impending conversation.

I spun around to quiet her, pumping the air brakes. “There’s nothing to say,” I said, dousing her fire. “He helped me with a rude customer and I thanked him.” I grabbed my bin and returned to the main hall, Taylor right in tow.

“Come on, what else?” she probed. “I know there’s more.”

“There isn’t,” I insisted as I picked up a litter of glasses from one of the party tables, though the truth was, I wasn’t even sure of it myself. I definitely felt something. And he definitely asked about my work schedule, but what that meant—if anything—I had no idea.

“God, the way he was looking at you,” she said as she leaned back against the table, her eyes sailing through the cosmos. “I wish you could have seen it from where I was standing.”

“What do you mean?” I immediately halted, eating up every word by the spoonful. “How did it look?”

“Like he wanted to devour you,” she giggled.

“Shut up,” I said, though my face was screaming, tell me everything!

“So I guess you don’t want to know about how he was eying you all night, or how he practically flew across the room when that guy grabbed you,” she teased.

I rolled my eyes. I could hardly believe it.

“I swear,” she said, noting my expression and then continued through laughter. “I’ve never seen anyone so eager to start a fight with a stranger!”

I laughed too but sobered quickly, remembering my fear. “Thank God he was here. That creep scared the hell out of me.”

“Taylor,” called Trace just then. “We’re locking up.”

“How are you getting home?” she asked me. “I’m riding with Hannah but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

I shook my head. “It’s cool. I have a ride.” I think.

“Kay,” she smiled big. “I’m out then. Call me tomorrow!”

I nodded that I would and watched her strut away, passing Trace on her way to the door. I moved to another table and had time to clear a few more glasses before he was by my side.

“Think you’ll be back tomorrow?” he asked as he placed the chairs on top of the table I’d just wiped down.

“Bright and early…unless my uncle has a change of heart and decides that mooching off of him is a totally acceptable alternative.”

“Great,” he said, sort of under his breath.

“Is it?” I had to ask. He’d made it obvious that he didn’t want me taking this job, or hanging around here for that matter. “I mean, is this going to be a problem?”

Maybe putting him on the spot like this might actually yield a straight response.

“You can probably head out now,” he said without looking up as he lifted two more chairs. “They got this,” he gestured to April, Zane, and Sawyer across the way. The other waitress, Paula Dawson, was already packing up her things.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

He shook his head and picked up the bucket of dishes from my table. “It’s covered.”

I shrugged, “Nice.” No sense in arguing there, I thought, and started moving before he changed his mind.

I felt him latch onto my arm as I passed him. My skin hummed in response to his touch.

“Do you have a ride?” he asked, holding me to his side as he peered down at me though his stirring eyes; deep soulful eyes that made me long to know the history behind them.

I nodded, struggling not to lose myself in the pools of liquid blue. “It’s covered.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t let go of my arm, or my gaze.

“Is that it?” I raised my eyebrow at him. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand the heat without liquefying.

He looked down at his own hand still wrapped around my arm and quickly released it. “Yeah. That’s it.”

I felt a surge of vindication the moment I left All Saints and realized that Nikki was still outside with Morgan, probably waiting on Trace to finish work. This could have easily turned into a really ugly situation had I walked out of here with him. It was fast becoming obvious that the more I avoided Trace, the better off I would be. I just wasn’t sure avoiding him was something I could actually do, or something I wanted to do, and I wasn’t sure which one scared me more.

I searched the street for Dominic, not entirely sure if we had actually agreed to meet or not, and secretly found myself wishing that I would see him again tonight. That I could escape my own prison and delay the inevitable grief I always felt when I was by myself at night—even if only for a little while.

Sadly, it seemed my hopes had been dashed upon completing a thorough scan of the area and coming up empty of any impeccably handsome, luminary blonds. I pulled out my cell phone and crossed the street, heading down towards the main Boulevard as I keyed in the cab company’s telephone number.

“Who are you calling?” asked a honeyed voice from above.

My heart jumped out of its cage as I looked up and saw Dominic walking on the cement ledge beside me. His black overcoat catching air as he walked the plank with feline precision.

My hand rushed up to tame my heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he said unceremoniously and leapt off the ledge. “You’re early.”

I flooded my sight with his profile as he continued to pace beside me. “They let me off early,” I said, glancing over his shoulder at the unfamiliar grounds. “What were you doing?” I asked, straining my neck as I tried to see what was up there.

“It’s a park,” he leaned in and whispered, answering my query as though he could hear my thought. “I was taking a walk.”

“At night?”

“Yes, at night. Don’t you like the night, angel?”

“No, not really.”

“Why not?”

One too many close encounters with the undead
. Of course, there was no way I was opening that first-class ticket back to the nut house. “It’s a long story.”

“I have plenty of time,” he said without looking.

“Well, maybe not a long story. More like an embarrassing one,” I said and waived my hand dismissively, trying to seem detached and casual about it. “I’m just a little scared of the dark, that’s all.”

“Is that so?” He seemed amused by this.

“Yes, and I don’t find it very funny. I mean, it’s not like I sleep with a night light or anything, but I definitely try to avoid it if I can.” And for the record, I wasn’t opposed to a night light.

“Tell me, Jemma, what is it that you think is hiding out there in the dark?”

This was getting a little too close for comfort. “I don’t know, the usual I guess…goblins and monsters and ghosts, oh my.” I tried to laugh it out but it came out fake and pitchy.

His lips threatened a smile. “Well, you don’t have to worry about that tonight. Not while you’re with me.”