Never Kiss a Bad Boy (39 page)

Yes. It was crazy.

The tiny voice in my ear was a growl. “Jacob,” Kite whispered. “What's happening?”

“Still can't believe Hecko is dead,” Juice mumbled. “I hadn't really thought about him for awhile until you and I talked that night.” Squinting, Juice looked me over and considered his next words. “Life is so fucking funny. You ask about him, and then he's in the news. Just... dead.”

Hecko's pale face entered my mind. At this rate, Juice's memory of that fateful night was going to be my undoing. Could I get my ID before he lifted it and read my real name? Connected the dots that the man he'd met didn't exist?

I needed a miracle.

And then one toppled partially over the bar, spilling whatever was in her hand all over Juice.

“Oh my gosh!” Marina cried, hands over her mouth. “I'm so sorry! My foot caught on the chair and I just—I'm really sorry!”

Wide-eyed, I gawked at her. Juice was wiping himself down, groaning at the mess. I knew an opportunity when I saw it. In a blink, my fingers swiped my ID off the bar.

Had Marina just rescued me?

Between the time I'd watched her approach and now, she'd managed to take her jacket off and find a glass to spill on the kid. It would have been a split-second decision.

She saved me,
I thought in amazement.

So many tiny threads, always ready to unravel and undo me. This was why Marina was such a risk to to us. Life was already a series of landmines.

Where was the sense in carrying one around when it could explode at any time?

Marina's laugh, high and sweet and so very fake, got my attention. I watched her as she bent close to Juice over the bar. I hadn't noticed till now, but her white shirt had gotten wet when she'd spilled the drink. Juice had certainly spotted the see-through material, his eyes bugging wide.

“Jacob, talk to me. Are you okay?” Kite growled.

I could tell his nerves were fraying, he didn't know what I was seeing.

In the middle of her giggle, hair thrown back and chest thrust out, Marina owned Juice's attention. This was my chance to make an escape. Juice didn't care who I was or who he thought I was, not with a woman like her all over him.

My heels clicked on the floor. The club noise drowned everything out but her sweet voice. That never left my head, trapped like a butterfly in a jar.

In my hands, this girl's life was as thin as those gossamer wings.

“I'm fine,” I said, tapping the button by my ear. “Go home. I'll meet you there.”

Kite's silence stretched out. “Marina.” Her name crackled through the static. “I saw her walk inside.”

“She broke her promise.” Stating it, I sounded cold and flat. The weight in my chest wanted to drag me to the floor. One test, a simple way to see if she would choose her word to us over her lust for revenge.

She saved me,
I reminded myself. Slamming the door open, I shoved out into the parking lot.
She didn't have to. If anything, standing by and listening to what Juice was saying would have been helpful to her. If it were me... and I needed information... I would have hovered and waited.

Marina hadn't done that.

But she
had
come to the club in the first place.

My desires were fighting in my heart and my head. They were going to tear me apart and leave me in pieces.

Marina is right not to trust me,
I mused bitterly.
I'm dangerous.

And I do tell lies to everyone.

Including myself.

Dammit. I didn't know who I was anymore. Jacob of the past, he'd do anything to keep the people he loved safe. I refused to lose Kite. I'd never lose anyone I cared about... never again.

Once had been enough.

Where did Marina fit into this pledge?
She doesn't,
I warned myself.
Marina isn't part of the bond. She can't be.

Killing was easy.

Letting her live had become the struggle.

My divided wishes would break me. Who was I kidding? I was already broken, the edge of insanity was tickling my toes.

“Jacob,” Kite said softly. The strain in his tone shook me awake. “...I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, ducking my chin into my jacket's tall collar.

“I shouldn't have said we could trust her. I should have listened. You were right about her. I just wanted to think... fuck. Fuck everything.
Dammit
.” The bluetooth wavered. Kite's breathing was raspy.

He had no clue what had happened in the club. All he'd seen from his position staking out the area was Marina crossing the street and going into Calloway's. He didn't know the danger I'd been in, or what she'd done for me.

Lifting my hand, I perched my finger on the power button. “Blood Brothers. That's all we can trust. Nothing changes.”

Tapping the device off, I was left to wallow in my thoughts.

Marina

––––––––

T
he name cut through the air of the club and stabbed my guts.

Frank.

The kid behind the bar had mentioned Frank.

Whoever the gangly guy was, he was talking to Jacob like he knew him and rambling about things that sounded like a flood of clues for the lock-box of my life.

This man had answers.

Jacob was sitting there, stiff as a mountain. I was close enough to hear the conversation, but I'd slowed my approach. At first, I'd been relieved to see Jacob. It meant that the guy I was after
was
really nearby.

The pain in his blue eyes when he'd seen me had cooled my excitement.

I had lied to Kite when I said I wouldn't come. Was that why Jacob looked so hurt? The lines that had crawled over his frown were unnerving. I had the oddest sensation that he'd been waiting for me.

Forget that,
I told myself firmly.
Listen to what they're talking about!
But I couldn't, not easily. The fear that was permeating off of Jacob was probably invisible to others. I'd seen a lot of the faces he could make. Facets, as he'd called them. Fear was a weird one. For some reason, this kid behind the bar was freaking him out.

There are moments where you have to decide to take advantage of a situation, or to give it up for the greater good. My greater good was a clean-cut man with clever hands and a fierce smirk.

I hated that his delicious lips were stuck in a scowl.

Jacob's eyes moved. They darted down, I saw the white plastic on the bar peeking from under the kid's pointed fingertips.
His ID?
Yeah, that was it. Jacob was trying to get his identification back.

My intuition warned that if the bartender saw his ID, Jacob was fucked.

Without another heart beat passing me by, I acted.

Jogging around an empty table, I snatched a glass that was half-f of some unknown drink. I did it all in mere seconds; jacket off, glass at the ready. The kid was my target.

Pretending to stumble, I cried out. Shooting my torso over the bar, I splashed him and me with the drink.

His eyes shot wide, hands flying upwards. Before he could get angry, I started apologizing. “I'm so sorry! My foot caught on the chair and I just—I'm really sorry!”

Jamming my hip towards Jacob, I somehow missed him. He was already standing, good. I tossed him the quickest of looks. I couldn't tell his expression, but I
did
see the bluetooth.

He'd been talking to Kite.

Jacob took his ID and vanished through the crowd. Something was wrong, I struggled to understand.

The guy was drying himself off, looking more embarrassed than angry. “It's fine! Uh, it's fine. No worries.” His stare flicked to my chest. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. This was ridiculous, but it had worked.

“Guess I'm just clumsy,” I laughed. Reaching out, I offered my hand. “I'm M... Melony, by the way.”
Don't give him your real name.
That was close.

Beaming, he dropped the towel and shook my fingers. “Juice.” Was that his name or... what he was offering me? “Here, let me get you a new drink, Melony. On the house.”

I didn't want a drink. I wanted information. “Thanks,” I beamed, grabbing the glass and sniffing it. I was hesitant to put my lips on the cup. Sure, I'd watched him pour it, but still. “Listen,” I said, peering over my shoulder to confirm Jacob was gone. “I wanted to ask, that guy you were talking to...”

“Dennis?” Juice blinked, following my eyes.

“Right.
Dennis
.” A fake name? “How do you know him?”

The skinny kid was getting cagey. Avoiding my eyes, no matter how close I leaned, he cleared his throat. “Uh, listen. I just got this job, and I'd rather not... I don't want to lose it. You feel me?”

I didn't. “Sure. I just want to know about him, why can't you—”

Lifting a hand, he cut me off with a sharp motion. On a napkin, he scribbled something down. “How about you call me sometime. You're just my type, I think we'd have a blast.” Juice winked, his angled smirk turning my stomach.

Shoving the napkin in my purse, I sighed. He was freaking out, clearly this wasn't the place to grill him. “Alright. Can you just tell me one little thing?” Waiting for him to nod, I crooked a finger and leaned in. “I overheard you and Dennis talking. You knew a guy named Frank? Frank Montego, by chance?” Juice's eyebrows flew to his hairline. My heart was dancing. “You did. Okay. Who is the other guy you mentioned? Hecko, I think it was?

I'd heard him say it at least twice. Was Hecko my mystery murderer?

A full body shiver went through his lanky body. “Yo, why does he keep coming up? This is fucking weird.”

Someone across the bar was trying to flag him down. Juice looked that way, considering ending this conversation here. “Please, it's important. Tell me who that is,” I begged. There was a wild storm in me, it was eager and hungry and it was praying Hecko was my target.

Let my hunt be fucking over.

“He was Frank's nephew,” Juice mumbled. His skin was fading into chalky white. “Emphasis on the was. Guy is dead, now. They found him the other day in an alley behind a dumpster.” That rang a bell, I didn't know why. “Look... this shit isn't fit for where we are. You got my number, sweetie. I gotta take this.” Nodding at the customer, Juice turned his back and started ignoring me.

Mixed within my moment of frustration was hot, bubbling optimism.

He had more information, he just wasn't willing to talk about it here. Fine. I was walking away with the phone number of the first person who was able to give me a real lead.

Tonight had been a good night for me.

****

W
hile I waited an hour in the club, it became clear that Jacob and Kite weren't coming back. That also meant my target wasn't showing.

My gut warned me that this had been some sort of set-up, but I was too elated from meeting Juice. It helped soften the blow.

Not wanting to wait all night at the club, I left the Calloway Club and got on the metro. I had a lot of questions for Kite and Jacob.

But, when I got to Kite's, neither of them was there.

Determined to confront them about what had happened, I headed upstairs.

Jacob's door wasn't locked. With a crisp noise, I pushed through, finding the two men inside. Both of them sat on the couches, drinks in hand.

Again, Jacob wore the face of a man who'd been expecting me. “Welcome back,” he said, sipping from his glass.

Slamming the door, I glowered at them both. “Okay, so. I'm going to jump right to it. What the hell happened tonight?”

Kite crossed his ankles. He was stretched out length-wise, his fingers white around his drink. He looked from me, to the ceiling. “We made a mistake. That's all.”

There was a tenuous pause. Finally, Jacob stood, moving fluidly into the kitchen and filling a third glass. “I thought I'd found your man. I was wrong. That's what he means.” Eyeing his friend, Jacob wandered towards me. The drink he extended felt like a peace offering. “Forgive us, if you can.”

Crinkling my nose, I took the glass. I was confused and a little frustrated, but the phone number in my purse was too exciting to let their 'mistake' drag me down. “What about the guy at the bar?” I asked slyly.

Jacob straightened up. His wall softened, a thought crossing his mind that I could almost see behind his eyes. “Did you speak to him?”

“Just to get him off your back,” I lied. I didn't want to hand over my secret key. Juice knew something, and if I could take the mission on for myself—from here on out—I intended to do so.

My purse was heavy for many reasons.

A big hunk of my heart still hoped for a happy ending. I was going to find the man I was after. I was going to kill him.

What happened after that was still a mystery.

Smelling the drink, I let it slide over my tongue. The burn was welcome, it cleared my head. I didn't push the topic about Juice or why Jacob had freaked out, why the bartender had called him by the name 'Dennis' or the like. I'd find everything out that I needed from the source.

There was a heaviness in the room. From them, and from me. I knew where mine came from. Why were they acting so morbid, though? Why was Kite looking around and avoiding me, or Jacob standing so silent?

Lowering the rim of the glass from my lips, I smiled up at him. “You guys are acting like I'm pissed at you. It's okay if you were wrong about tonight. We'll find him eventually.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Jacob hesitated. “Yes. I imagine we will.” Turning, he moved to the couch, bending to clink his glass on Kite's. “Stop sulking, Kite. Everything is fine.”

The red-haired man frowned, his gaze rolling to me. The veins in his eyes looked like fresh blood. “Yeah. Everything is fine,” he murmured.

Jacob's face reflected a fraction of the sorrow in his friend's. Low in my chest, the pain of their emotions was cutting at me. I was attached to them solidly. Empathy for killers, who would have guessed.

Burning with my need to see them smile, I walked until I was standing by Kite. “What would make you feel better?” I asked.

“Nothing. I'm fine,” he said, finishing his drink in one swish.