“Oh holyfuckingshit! You are impossible.”
He grins with a mischievous glitter in his eye, and my lips twitch. The slightest upward tick, but I clench them back into a scowl before he can see.
“One hour.”
“Thirty minutes.”
I pause, eyeing him. Thirty minutes? That could be enough time if I really push it. I angle my head around him to check out his bike, taking in features that are comparable to my own. Nothing especially upgraded—or fast—from what I can see.
His grin reappears, looking slightly more wicked this time as he holds out a gloved hand. I stare at it a moment before searching his eyes again.
Guileless.
A guileless stalker.
I tip my head to the stars as I suck in a deep breath, certain I’m going to end up getting murdered, but what else can I do? I reach out and take his hand in mine, sealing our deal. He licks his lips then twirls the ring in his bottom one with his tongue as he slowly walks backwards away from me. His eyes never leave mine, and I get that same prickly feeling of being watched that I’ve been experiencing all week.
Now I know who it was.
His black-lined eyes don’t leave me as I shoot across the field away from him, and my skin tingles with the memory of his gaze long after I’ve left his sights. I check my mirrors and look behind me every few minutes, but there’s no sign of him. Did he reallykeep his side of the bargain? If so, that means I have to show up to the club tomorrow.
My lips tilt into a smile before I realize what’s happening. I feel like a fool, a silly girl crushing on the wrong boy despite knowing it won’t end well.
I guess that’s the draw, though. The danger, the excitement, the lure of the forbidden. I’ve had plenty of danger in my life recently, what with my ‘boss’—I sneer as I think of him—threatening me at every turn. I didn’t take him seriously at first, but then he had one of his masked goons shoot someone right in front of me.
I had nightmares for months, and his tactics to keep me in line only got worse, even though I didn’t need any more convincing.
I took him seriously after that. Although, I don’t think he’d kill me since he needs me too much, but he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me. My skin crawls as I think of returning to the dingy warehouse, then my heart hurts when I contemplate turning over more stardust to him. He wanted double this time, and despite finding a good amount tonight, I’m still not there. It feels hopeless, and I doubt it’ll ever be enough. No matter how much of the magical substance I bring, he will always demand more.
As long as there’s a market for it, he’ll want it. Stardust is the kind of thing only the higher ups in bigger crime organizations know about. Everyone else thinks it’s a synthetic drug.
I need another lead, an extra one that will put me ahead. One I can cash in for more money if I ever want to earn enough to get out of here. My thoughts continue to tumble over each other as I streak through the night, back to my empty apartment with not even a cranky cat for company.
I debate not goingto Tempo for hours as I intermittently wear the same circle into the carpet that I was pacing last week. This time, the cat isn’t here to glare me out of it, though. I didn’t see even a hint of headlights behind me on my drive home last night, so the bartender must have kept his word. Which means I have to stick to mine, too.
A weight lifts off my chest with the decision. It’s a reaction I don’t look at too closely, for fear of what it might mean. I definitely don’twantto see him again, but I also don’t want to bring on any bad karma or whatever. So I figure I kind of have to go.
Really, I don’t have a choice.
My thoughts circle as I walk the few blocks to the club, my boots scuffing against the sidewalk. I shove my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket, hunching against the wind and trying to convince myself this isn’t a terrible idea. Sometimes I like people. This might even be… fun? I shiver in revulsion at the thought. I don’t think I’d know fun if it slapped me in the face.
Ihavebeen looking for someone to hook up with, though. Perhaps he could scratch that itch? My steps slow as I contemplate it, imagining that wicked smile, his lip ring glinting in the low light as he stretches out on wrinkled sheets. Messy hair gripped in my fist, eyeliner smudged as he pants beneath me.
My breath hitches in my chest.
It’s a tempting image.
But then I realize, if I hook up with him I can never go back to Tempo. I’ve been spending lonely nights there for years now, and I won’t let one man steal my spot. No, a hookup isout of the question. I mentally brace myself to face his irritating cheerfulness again as I pull open the door and stride inside.
Sure enough, he bounds over to me before I’ve even reached the bar.
“You came!” he says.
“I did…”
My eyebrows twitch together as a new feeling tightens my muscles. I feel strangely cautious in the face of his positive energy. It’s something I haven’t experienced before, but that in itself isn’t new with him, this mystery bartender-turned-stalker.
“Ro,” he says, apparently taking my trailing off as an invitation to share his name again.
