Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (16 page)

She shrugs, her gaze never leaving him. “Guess you’ve got that kind of face.” She winks and sashays back to the counter.
 

“Must be fun.” I pull my hand back and wrap it around my margarita glass.
 

“What’s that?”

“Being famous.”

He lets out a dry laugh, as he pours himself a beer. “I’m not famous, Syd. If she knew I was StingRay I get the feeling she would’ve said something.”

“Oh,” I take sip of the slushy strawberry drink. “Must be the other thing then.”

“What other thing?”
 

“The fact that you look like you do.” He frowns and I roll my eyes. “Come on.”

He pops a piece of steak into his mouth and leans back. “How do I look?”

Heat shoots up into my scalp and I take another swig of my drink, hoping to somehow quell the flush. “You know what I mean.”

He shakes head, a knowing smile on his lips.
 

Placing my drink in front of me, I clear my throat. “The baby blues, the dark wavy hair, the football physique.”

“You think that lady was hitting on me? She’s got to be at least fifty.”

I shrug. “Age ain’t nothin’ but a number.”

Ray laughs and nods toward the bar. “Guess we’re both turning heads tonight.”

I follow his gaze toward the man seated on a stool, turned halfway in our direction. There’s an honest to god cowboy hat sitting on the stool next to him and he’s got on boots and a buckle to match. Every time he notices me looking, he looks away. But when he doesn’t, I fully register the cold hard stare he shoots at Ray. His attention is clearly not as friendly as the crimson-haired cougar.
 

“I don’t think I’m the one he’s focused on,” I mutter. I take a moment to survey the rest of the late night crowd. Most of them are older, save for a few young waitresses and couple of college kids playing pool.

Ray snorts. “You think he’s hitting on me too?”

“He hasn’t stopped staring at you since we stepped in this place.”

He glances over his shoulder, then nods and, for a solid thirty seconds, the man just stares back.

“Damn. What’d you ever do to him?”

Ray clears his throat. “Let’s just eat and get out of here. That cabin is far less creepy than this place.”

I’m starting to agree.

After we’ve finished our food and paid up the bill, Ray guides me outside and we head in the direction of the car.
 

“I’ll try to track her down tomorrow,” he says. It comes out breathless and wavering. “Then I’ll take you home.”

"Okay," I say, relieved I’m not the only one feeling a bit uneasy.

“Got a lot of nerve showing your face around here, boy?”

Ray freezes beside me and I stiffen, turning slowly to face the mean-mugging cowboy.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you shouldn’t be here.”

Ray grabs my hand and pulls me back, stepping in front of me. “I heard that part. I’m just not sure why you think that is.”

The man scoffs and takes a giant step forward, his brown eyes narrowing. “You’re exactly the same. Like jumping in a fucking time machine.” Before either of us can even react, he grabs a fistful of Ray’s collar pulling him down to meet him face to face. “This may be a new town and a different time, but nothing’s changed,” he spits. “Wherever we are, you will never be welcomed.”

Ray grunts something I can’t make out and in the next second both hands are on the man’s chest and he’s flying backwards landing on his ass.
 

The man doesn’t waste anytime scrambling to his feet and as Ray turns to face me he barely gets out an ‘are you—?’ before a hard fist connects with the side of his jaw.

I’ve seen guys fight before, both professionally and…well, immaturely but I’ve never quite seen anything like this. Ray’s got almost a foot on him and he’s got to have at least twenty years on Ray. Those differences alone make them evenly matched. I can’t tell grunt from grunt or smack from smack. And as I contemplate whether or not I should follow my instincts and get in the middle of the whole thing, a loud whistle halts all three of us.
 

“Avery fucking Chase! Get your drunk ass inside before I make a call you’ll regret.” The waitress’s face pretty much matches the tone of her hair as she stomps across the parking lot in our direction. “You got nothing better to do than get into it with some kid?” She gives him a good kick in the side and he groans stumbling to his feet.
 

I help Ray up and stand in front of him, like I could actually do something to protect him. Even though all I’ve done for the last few minutes is gape like an idiot.

“You have no idea who this kid is, Jill.” Avery wipes a trickle of blood from his bottom lip.
 

“I don’t give a shit. I’m tired of this. I swear to god if you don’t get your act together…”

Avery’s eyes widen and he hurries in Jill’s direction. “I’m sorry. Don’t, okay? I’m sorry.”

“Get your ass inside,” she hisses.

It takes several moments for her to gather herself and once she does, she turns back to us gazing up at Ray. “I don’t know who you are or why my jackass of a husband felt the need to get in your face, but he hasn’t been in a good place in a long time. Don’t take it personally. He pretty much hates any pretty young boy that comes rolling through town.” She crosses her arms and gives a little shrug. “Can’t say he’s ever jumped one in a parking lot before, but…look, I hate to say this, but maybe you two better avoid this place. Maybe even avoid this town altogether. There are a few more exciting places than Moscow, Idaho.” She grins. “If it were me I’d be vacationing in San Francisco or Tokyo.” Her gaze flicks between the two of us. “Again, I’m sorry. You two…have a nice night.”

I reach the damp cloth toward his face. “You’re still bleeding.”

Ray turns his head. “It’s fine.”

“But are you okay?”

He lets out a sigh and leans his back against the sofa, eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask softly.
 

“For dragging you out here. For getting into it with some idiot in a strange town. I put you in danger and I’m sorry.”

“That Avery guy didn’t seem all that dangerous. Crazy maybe.”

Ray smirks for a split second before his eyes flutter open. “Maybe, but he could have had a gun or something, Syd. He could have gone after you instead of me.”

I nudge his leg with my knee. “I get the feeling you would have protected me.”

“In a heartbeat.” His gaze holds mine and I do my best not to squirm.
 

“Well, I’m not a pretty young boy, so I guess I was safe all along.” I laugh. “Avery fucking Chase has some issues.”

“No kidding.”

I get up on my knees and lean in close. “Now, whether you like it or not and no matter how sorry you are, I’m going to take care of that cut on your eyebrow, then I’ll work on your lip.”

The smile returns to his face. “Oh yeah?”

“It looks gross and I hate the sight of blood.”

I wipe the dried blood off the side of his face and dab the cut on his brow, lightly. He watches me the entire time and by the time I’m finished my throat is so dry I feel like I might choke.
 

My gaze drops to his mouth but I can’t bring myself to touch it. To just go ahead and get the doctoring over with. Instead, I focus on his chin, wiping the dried blood away with the warm cloth, one soft stroke at a time.
 

When I’m finished cleaning him up, I glance back at his lip. A droplet of blood, pearls at the side and all I can do is stare. His tongue darts out, grazing the cut on the corner of his lip, sending my stomach into a series of flip-flops.
 

I can’t help myself. I don’t know what comes over me, or why my little mind thinks it’s a good idea, but I lean even closer to replicate his action. The salty, tangy taste sends a quiver through me and, as I try to pull away, Ray’s arms encircle my waist.
 

“Where are you going?”

I shake my head in response.

“You promised to work on my lip. I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Won’t it hurt?” I whisper.

“Not if you’re gentle.”

I lift my arm again, the cloth still gripped in my hand, but I’m not even remotely interested in making the move that will put this whole thing to rest. Every thought I’m having right now is sure to send my life into a complicated tailspin.
 

Ray effortlessly pulls the cloth from my hand and as if I’m the fish and he’s reeling in the bait he says, “I’m not drunk. Not deliriously hungry either. I just really want to kiss you again.”

I open my eyes then close them, remembering last night and my heart rate speeds up. I’ve never been with a girl like that. I didn’t even know it was possible. The chick in college had been fun. She’d pretty much blown my mind, but it was different. My first time. I thought my insides were going to explode and it hadn’t lasted long—at least not as long as I intended. She left before I even had the chance to say anything. And I never saw her again. Not up close anyway. And things with Kristen never went further than a few pecks and linked fingers.

But Sydney. All we did was kiss. And it was…it’s all I can think about. I guess that’s what they call magic. And I guess that makes me one corny bastard.
 

I sit on the edge of the bed, being careful not to shift it too much, and pull my socks on. It’s already after nine. The pub isn’t open yet and, other than memories of my night with Sydney and the crazy run-in with that drunk from the bar, I’ve got one thing on my mind. Mariah.

I shrug into my hoodie, and tuck my hair under my baseball cap again. The sun is shining brightly this morning so I’ll wear my shades too. It feels flamboyant, but I can’t handle running into a fan right now. I can’t be bothered to think up polite conversation on the spot. I need to focus on how I’m going to get my sister to talk to me.

I should have expected she’d be pissed, but instead I got caught up in the moment. In a fantasy that she’d be relieved to see me, that she’d fill me in on the details of her life, maybe even follow me home. Somehow, I doubt that now.
 

My town. That’s what she’d called this place. This is her home and I’m invading. Still, if I can just get her to hear me out, to talk to me.

“Hey.” Sydney is sitting up in the bed, rubbing her eyes. “Where are you going?”

A smile creeps onto my face and I sit back down on the bed again. I lean in and kiss her sweet lips. “Morning.”

She grins back, her face flushing slightly. “Good morning, Ray.”

“I made you eggs.” I point over to the desk. “Just like I promised.”

“And coffee. Bless you.”
 

She stretches an arm toward the tray and I stand up to grab the mug for her.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she says. She takes a sip, eyes closed.

“Um, well you were sleeping, so I didn’t want to…I mean I guess you could come if you—”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I don’t need to. This house is a lot less creepy in the daylight. I was just wondering.”

“I’m headed over to the Long Farm.”

She raises and eyebrow.
 

“Pete says Mariah lives there with this guy—he’s her band mate, but I think he may be her boyfriend. And I’m certain he’s a dick.”

Sydney snorts. “Why do you say that?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe not. I mean, the guy didn’t exactly know who I was last night. And I’m not sure if she even told him. Doesn’t matter though.” I rise to my feet. “I’m going over there and I’m going to get her to talk to me.”

She rests the coffee cup down on the nightstand and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. She’s dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and the way she’s perched on the edge of the bed—the bed she shared with me last night—things look alluringly like something they aren’t.
 

“Just don’t force it,” she says. “I’m sure she’ll come to you when she’s ready.”
 

She stands up, stretching upwards with big yawn. And I can’t keep my composure anymore. I step forward, fold her into my arms and tilt her head, a finger under chin.

“Jeez, you even look hot when you wake up.”

Sydney’s cheeks redden and I bend down to kiss her. She kisses me back for a few seconds, then pulls away abruptly, covering her mouth.
 

“My breath smells like ass. And coffee.”

I laugh. “I don’t mind. I just like the way you feel.” I wrap my arms around her and she presses her forehead to my chest. “I should go,” I whisper in her ear. “But when I get back…”

She giggles. “I’ll be here.”

I shut the door to my truck and stand frozen in place for a moment as I survey the property in front of me. It’s eerily similar. Surrounded by fir trees, lost in its own forest. It looks a lot like home, but it’s far from it.

The Long Farm has a certain charm that all farms do, rustic, authentic, with a telltale aroma. I remove my hat and run my fingers through my hair. I might be able to use my face to my advantage. I hope.
 

I walk down the otherwise empty driveway, up a narrow walkway and mount the wooden steps. They’re off to the side, instead of the front like most houses and as I glance behind me, I’m secretly glad I’ve chosen to come here in broad daylight. Not that anyone could hear my calls for help or see a struggle anyway. From where I stand, I can no longer see the road.
 

The moment I arrived, I sent Sydney a text.
 

Long Farm. Joyce Road.
 

She probably thinks I’m a wimp now, especially after that throw down with the old guy last night. I’m pissed he got in so many hits, but I’d been so shocked when he’d punched me, it took a few moments to catch up. Wimp or not after a run I like that, I’d rather let her know where I am. Just in case.

I step onto the porch and walk past the first set of vertical windows. They are wide open, which means someone must be home. Inside is a space so large and empty it looks like a banquet all. A stone fireplace off to the right, shiny hardwood floors, a chair, a sofa, and a coffee table that’s positioned so far away from both, I wonder what it’s purpose is. Inside, the house is even less like home. No trinkets, no photos. Just plants and furniture.