“Hey,” he says, stopping in front of me. He may be in a managerial role, but he doesn’t embrace the costume requirement—just his business casual wardrobe. “Misty heard you were here again. She’s going on next and wants to know if you’d like to join them on guitar for a couple of songs as a thanks for filling in for her.”
Misty had an emergency with one of her kids last night and had to leave suddenly. That was how I found myself onstage. I’d been in here on Monday when it was empty. Her band was practicing, and I ended up playing some songs with them for fun. So, when I saw them scrambling yesterday because she had to go home, I volunteered.
It wasn’t a full set—thank God. I don’t mind playing for a little while. Being onstage is a rush, butsometimes, it’s overstimulating. It was a less unnerving experience without the watchful scrutiny of the Noire clan though.
I drag my teeth over my lip, considering. “She doesn’t have to do that. I’m happy to be an audience member tonight.”
He slants his head, a kind, crooked smile blooming on one side of his mouth. “Come on. You were a crowd favorite last night.”
“Not in a way I enjoyed,” I argue.
He sighs, guilt tinting his features. “I heard some guys got out of hand when you were leaving. I’m sorry about that. We seem to attract creeps. I also heard you’ve got a mean right hook.”
A laugh spills out of me. “That was courtesy of growing up with older brothers.”
I’m pretty sure I broke that dick’s face. It wasn’t a right hook; it was a palm strike to the nose. The guy had gotten more than a little handsy. When I squirmed away from him, he slammed me into the wall—that was what won me the purple cheek. He didn’t expect the strike, so it afforded me plenty of time to scream for security and disappear. Maddox had taught me that move.
“I can’t imagine your brothers would be happy to know that you were wandering around this club alone and attacked.” The edge to his tone is placating and rebuking at once. He’d mesh well with the Noires.
“No,” I breathe, knowing how irate and devastated my brothers would be at the thought of me being hurt. A pang of guilt racks through me. “They wouldn’t be. But they’re not here.”
He hums a tune of agitation, plainly distraught. He already lectured me once about being here alone, so I know what’s coming, which has my mind drifting back to Ty. “Whether you play or not tonight, one of us will walk you out—Vic, the bouncers, me. Do not exit this building without someone, even to grab an Uber.”
My phone buzzes in my palm, so I nod my agreement andask Fender to wait while I check it, my mouth parched with a thirst to see Ty’s response.
Ty: I’m not sure why you’re running. But if you’re wondering whether I think you’re worth it, the answer is, without question. My whole family feels that way. Yours too. If you need me to track you down, I will. Nothing will keep me from finding you. That much I know.
Does he know how he’s invading my heart and veins and bones? That reads like an admission of feelings if I extract thefamilyline. Maybe even with it. Or I’m seeing what I want to. Nothing he’s texted has been clear, but rather skirts the unspoken margins that have always defined us. Much like his,“You didn’t imagine anything, Little Moon.”
Vague and confusing.
A dagger full of promises that could slice through my armor or drain me of my lifeblood.
Or, if I stick to the theme of my setting, a wooden stake through the heart, crumbling me to ashes.
My brothers would attest to my flair for the dramatic, but this may be one time it’s warranted.
Ty will destroy me if he shows up here and hurls me back into the friend zone. I can’t even go there right now. I’ll have to cross that bridge later. It sounds like I’ve got time to bask in my blissful delusion.
Since he’s not going to make it tonight, there’s no sense in sitting here alone before I return to my empty hotel room and drink myself to sleep.
I tuck my phone away and cast my attention to Fender. “I’ll play a couple.”
And as I sling my backpack purse over my shoulder and squeeze my way through the crowd—the courage from the appletinis bolstering me with every step—I resolve to hide behind the safety of this nameless texting and forge ahead with one last braveresponse so that Ty has to face whatever’s brewing between us. If he chooses to show up for me, he should know where I stand. Otherwise, what’s the point?
Me: If I had known you would chase me, I’d have run a long time ago. That much I know.
TY
If I wasn’t beside myself, chewing a hole in my cheek and breaking into a cold sweat from the droves of anxiety-provoking scenarios my mind has conjured up, I’d be impressed by Rena’s prowess. But after visiting four gothic nightclubs in Vegas, coming up empty, and confirming with her that she’s been fucking with me, I happened upon an establishment that has my insides curdling.
A goddamn sex club.
I might blitz the whole fucking place if I find her there.
It didn’t take a lot of digging to unearth Eternal Night as her likely location. The name gave it up quickly. Ten years ago, they had begun as a gothic vampire club. But as more popped up, they expanded to edge out the competition. From what I can ascertain, it’s an eclectic environment, offering a little something for everyone while still maintaining a modicum of that gothic essence.
The dress code is concerning. While I’m pleased to wear a mask to conceal my facial construct, I have no doubt I’m not the only onethat appeals to. Which means any creep could be lurking there in the hopes of accosting a woman and never getting caught. Those are the abuse victims my shelter rarely has a chance to harbor and erase because they never have the opportunity to run. Hence the torrent of panic-provoking scenarios flitting through my mind.
