Edge of Instinct: Rabids Book 1 (32 page)

“Again, thank you for your concern. However I think I am a good enough judge of character to choose my friends, and he has been nothing but kind to me.” His eyes suddenly narrowed, grey eyes dark with what Amiel could only assume was anger.

“I am sure that you are a smart girl. But you are also lonely and not making wise decisions because of that.” Her skin crawled at his too accurate guess about her loneliness. “But you aren’t alone, Amiel. I am your friend. And I am warning you to stay away from Harley. He’s bad news.” She opened her mouth to argue but he talked right over top of her.

“You’re young, and you’re new here. So you probably don’t know the truth about him yet. But keep your ear to the ground and you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“I don’t listen to gossip.”

“This isn’t gossip. It’s truth. Him- and his kind- they’re dangerous. They’re growing in number, too. You’ll recognize them by their mark. They all have one.” He pointed to his neck.

“His tattoo? Lots of people have tattoos.”

“Not like this. This tattoo belongs only to them.”

“What, like a gang or something?” She snickered in annoyance.

“If you like to think of it that way, yes. One of the most dangerous gangs in the country. He’s not for you, Amiel. I would think what he did to your neck would be warning enough.” He ran a cold clammy finger lightly over the bruising on her neck and she jerked away, disgusted and a little afraid. His touch had felt nothing like Harley’s, leaving her only feeling dirty.

“He didn’t do this to me. He wouldn’t hurt me.” He protected her, watched over her. Besides, Tandy would never ask his son to watch over her if he really was dangerous. Darvey shook his head as if reading her thoughts.

“Trust me, Amiel. You may think he wouldn’t hurt you, but he is entirely capable. They are notorious for their tempers and violence.” Unbidden, images of the way Harley’s eyes gleamed at the promise of a fight last night registered in her mind. She shook her head, pushing away the images. He’d been beating up bad men, eager to give justice to a crime. That didn’t make him bad. Darvey pushed onward.

“Ask around if you don’t believe me. Everyone will tell you the same. Just stay away from him. Before it’s too late.” With that he turned and disappeared down the stairs. Amiel moved into her apartment, locking the door behind her. She’d been here for two months now. If there really was such a dangerous gang in the city with tattooed necks, she would have seen more of them by now. Wouldn’t she? Besides, Harley went out of his way to save her last night, so he couldn’t be the kind of guy that made a life out of hurting others.

Of course, would he have still saved her if he hadn’t promised his father to look out for her? Maybe not. But then most people today wouldn’t. She honestly didn’t know him well enough to make that call yet. There were a few things she did feel confident about though. Harley didn’t have to keep the promise he made to a father that was on the other side of the country. That showed he had honor. He certainly didn’t need to fix her bike the way he had either. That showed he had a selfless sort of kindness too. Bad people didn’t go out of their way to do things like that for others.

Her eyes fell on Tandy’s business card. She picked it up, tapping it gently on the counter top. It was said that life threatening experiences had a way of bonding people together in inexplicable ways. Having been through such situations with both Tandy and Harley, Amiel found that that saying was rather accurate. She may not know Harley or Tandy well enough to determine that they were completely trustworthy in every aspect of life. But she’d been through very scary situations with both of them, and they had stuck with her. They’d put their own lives in danger, for
her
.

Darvey on the other hand had done nothing but creep her out since she’d moved in. He and Harley obviously had a strained relationship, so it wasn’t surprising that Darvey would make up stories about Harley in an effort to make him sound like a bad person.

Amiel’s mind drifted back to the tattoo that she hadn’t yet been able to fully see. She couldn’t deny that the only times she’d been around Harley, people had seemed to react to the mark with a sense of fear and anger. Had it just been the thug’s reaction last night, she wouldn’t have thought about it twice. But the guards this morning hadn’t so much as tried to stop him for a blood check, which was saying a lot, considering they were incredibly paranoid. As such, she had to admit that he did have some sway in the city, and it may have been connected to his tattoo. But that connection didn’t have to be because he was in a vicious gang.

She sighed heavily. Obviously she needed to not fall head over heels for the guy she’d just met. That was simply common sense, yet apparently something she needed to be more careful of. If she were honest with herself, this damsel in distress crush had begun long before she’d ever met him. As ridiculous as it may be, this crush had popped up the moment his car had shielded her in its strength and his scent. And now that he had quite literally saved her life, that crush had doubled in depth. So yes, some caution and self control was definitely needed in that area. But until Harley gave her a reason to doubt him in other areas, Amiel wouldn’t believe a word Darvey said. He’d risked his life for her, he’d been watching over her and he’d gone out of his way to fix her bike in ways he was in no way obligated to. She wasn’t about to treat him differently just because Darvey of all people had put doubts in her mind. She wasn’t a fair weather friend, and she’d prove that she was a good friend to him in the only way she knew how to at the moment. Loyalty.

Feeling she’d made the right decision, she went to put the card on her completely uncluttered fridge. The magnet she chose was wimpy though, and it fell to the floor, carrying the card with it. Reaching down to grab it, she stopped, a scribble on the back catching her attention. Something had been scribbled out, and underneath that was a number she didn’t recognize. She
did
recognize the ‘H’ next to it though. Harley had given her his number. Smiling, she put both numbers in her phone and stuck the card on the fridge with two magnets this time. She took a step back, smiling at it. It was the first thing she had put on the blank white canvas, and it felt like her first real landmark in making this apartment her home.

Harley

Harley stomped down the road, itching inside with no idea how to cure it. He should have given her the card last night. He’d thought about it, back on the street after he’d saved her from the loser thugs that he’d wanted to shred piece by piece. He’d
thought
about it. But he put it off when she looked up at him with those emerald doe eyes, bravely fighting back the tears of embarrassment and fear. He’d promised himself he’d give it to her at the gas station, then. Yet he’d put it off at the gas station when she’d smiled up at him in amazement, seeing his world through his glasses, and looking far too cute for someone wearing oversized sun glasses at night. Then the pack of Rabids had shown, and he’d had to get her out of there quickly.

The incident had reminded him of just how fragile her existence was in this world. This in turn had reminded him of why he’d never wanted to even attempt gaining friends. Because in the end, huge parts of his life were majorly screwed up, and those screwed up parts had a way of seeping into every ounce of his life. He had no personal life, couldn’t allow himself to have one. Cajun and his pops simply thought he was just too antisocial to know how to make friends. Harley had to admit that a lot of that was true. But he was fairly confident that if he let someone in, he’d be able to get a hang of the friendship thing well enough. Only problem was, the more people you let in, the more people you had to protect from your life, and the more people you had to lose. Mostly, he’d just hate to end up killing someone he loved. One time in his life had been far more than enough.

So as he’d flown down the road with her clinging to his back, he’d promised himself that he’d drop her off with his pop’s number in hand, and then only come around if she was in trouble. It was a good plan. At least it was until he’d plopped her on her feet and she’d looked at him with those blasted green eyes again; those eyes that made him dumber than mud when he looked into them. Pair the eyes with the hellish scent that had been driving him to distraction since all those long night ago at his pop’s hotel room and he was a lost cause. He’d ridden off with his pop’s card burning a hole on his pocket, and a gut full of frustration.

This morning she’d thanked him for the work he’d done on her bike with such heartfelt and honest gratitude, he’d nearly backed out of giving her the card again. A traitorous part of him knew that holding onto it would mean one more excuse he’d get to see her face to face. Because for whatever screwed up reason, he was drawn to the kid. And the card offered a pathetic excuse that would allow him to be near her, while being able to blame it on something beyond his own will. Because once that excuse was gone, any further contact with her would be of his own making, and it would be on his conscience. His life was one that he shouldn’t be pulling new ‘friends’ into. The decision to keep her out of his life should not have been that difficult. Not for him. Yet he’d held onto that number for months.

As much as he hated that Cajun was right, maybe he
did
need a friend. Maybe that was why he kept a hold of that damn number for as long as he did. He could have texted it to her at any point, left it for her at the guard house with the bike and remained in the shadows until she didn’t need him anymore. He hadn’t. And now he’d trapped himself into teaching her how to defend herself.

He shook out his shoulders and cracked his neck. What had he been thinking, agreeing to that? The answer was quite simple. He
hadn’t
been thinking, at least not with his human side. He’d been running on a whole lot of animalistic instinct is what he’d been doing. That puke Darvey had confronted him, calling him out and trying to assert his authority over
his
charge. Harley knew the creep from Foundation. And when he said creep, he meant creep. Of all the places she could live in the city, Amiel had to move in as
that
slime ball’s next door neighbor. Harley was always catching the perv looking at all the women like they were dessert on his personal menu, even though the women avoided him like the plague. Darvey didn’t care. If anything he seemed to take satisfaction in the fact that they avoided him, almost like it was a game to him. The guy was sick in the head that much was for sure. Harley could practically smell it on him, thick in the guy’s genetic essence.

He’d smelled it in the hall outside Amiel’s apartment in fact, and he should have immediately recognized it. But he’d been off his game. He’d been too distracted by Amiel’s scent, and the fact that he was about to lock himself up in a room saturated with
more
of that scent. Harley rubbed his neck, trying to ignore the fact that that scent still clung to his jacket, shirt, and skin.

He’d spent the last two months following that scent, training himself to always search the air for it when on rounds to ensure she was in safe areas. This city was a cesspool for crimes, Rabid and Cut oriented, yet the girl seemed blind to every bit of it. There had been a number of times he’d come across her scent in a less than savory part of town, only to follow it to goofy little tourist shops and other things that she probably found ‘adorably quaint.’ He’d even found the scent on a skeevy-looking bum once. After Harley had literally scared the pee out of the man, he found out that the man had been following her around all day. He’d been close enough he could almost touch her, close enough her scent clung to him, yet she hadn’t even noticed.

Lucky for the guy, he’d chickened out at the last minute and left. Harley had left him with incentive to never even consider jumping a woman again, yet the guy remained alive only because of his choice to leave Amiel untouched. The situation, however, brought Harley to the uncomfortable realization that no matter how hard he tried to look out for the kid, she was bound to find trouble the moment he wasn’t around. He had a fairly clingy job that didn’t allow him to follow her around all day, and that meant she was on her own a lot. He tried to always be there when she went to work, and came home from it. Her scent was always the first that he searched for with each breath, just in case. But a huge portion of the time, she was alone. And today, finding out that the freakish Darvey was her next door neighbor, he knew he had to do something about that fact.

Harley’s lip lifted at the corner, sneering as he remembered the way the little worm had tried to send him running with his tail between his legs. He’d all but staked his territorial claim on Amiel. Despite all the years the guy had spent around Harley’s kind, he obviously hadn’t figured out how dangerous a stake like that could be. Especially when Harley knew the kid clearly didn’t approve of the guy’s attentions. Which was a point towards her good intellect, he might add. Yet Darvey still pushed the envelope, and he’d nearly gotten himself shredded for it today.

Given Harley’s reactions, the guy had to know that he had already invested his protective instincts in her. That meant for as long as she would let him, and as long as she needed him to, he’d be protecting her. Harley rolled his shoulders, remembering how he’d tested his
other
side’s limits by eating her piece of bacon. It was meant to be a sign to the weasel as to where his claim lay, though he was afraid it had been more of a head trip for himself, than it had been for Darvey.

The fact that Darvey had tried to reassert his claim on her after Harley’s display, was all but calling out a challenge to Harley’s darker side. And a challenge in Harley’s world more often than not ended in death. In fact, if Harley were any of the newer recruits, less in control of that instinctual nature, the guy
would
have been dead. End of story. Ripping the guy to shreds in front of the kid however, probably would have been a sure fire end to any hopes of friendship he could have with her. So despite being on the verge of losing it, Harley held his darker side back, maintaining his dominance and most of his sanity. Not an easy task, but one he’d honed over the years.

Harley cringed. He was going to need every ounce of that strength of will and dominance of his baser side, if he was actually going to make good on his promise to train Amiel. Especially if she was going to keep feeding him good food. He could still savor the taste of her last piece of bacon on his tongue. That was all it took for his baser instinct to flare to life, clawing at his restraint in an infuriating way. He angrily stamped it back, knuckles popping in his clenched fists. Finally reaching where he’d left his bike, he climbed on and drove to the one place he knew he’d get plenty of advice; whether he wanted it or not.

Harley hated Foundation, hated it with a passion. Its cold stark walls never failed to bring goose bumps to his skin. He hated the confining spaces, he hated the entire lack of freedom. Walking within the walls of Foundation reminded him of the fact that he was no longer a free man. For as long as he lived, he’d be a slave to Foundation and its whims.

“Hybrid,” a man dressed in fatigues shouted at the gates, stepping forward to refuse him access. Harley grit his teeth but stopped in his tracks. “Hybrid, you failed to check in at the appointed time. Explain yourself.”

“I was busy not dying, sir,” Harley explained in what he felt was a rather pleasant tone. The guard’s face turned stormy, clearly disagreeing.

“You think you’re funny? How about you spend a week in Iso, and then tell me who’s funny. Disgusting Halfer freak,” the guard snarled, spitting at Harley’s feet. Harley’s muscles went taut the beast within raging. Name calling tended to get under his skin, but he could usually ignore it. Spitting at him on the other hand, that was something he would eagerly face Iso for. Cold grin stretching across his features, Harley pulled the shades from his eyes. He loosened the choke hold on his insides, allowed a bit of the darkness to glower through his gaze. The familiar feelings of euphoria and revulsion rose within, alongside the darkness. He ignored it, focusing solely on the guard before him. The man took a step back, swallowing hard. Harley had been told that Cleans found nothing more unnerving than the stare of a Hybrid. He wasn’t entirely sure what they saw when they looked into his eyes, but his particular brand of Hybrid glaring potency seemed to always have the desired effect. Which was lots and lots of space, and silence.

“D-don’t even think about it Hybrid.” Harley merely continued staring. The man’s hand twitched toward the button on his watch. Harley’s eyes narrowed, the darkness unfurling further.

“Try it,” he growled, voice turned gravely, savage. “Give me one more reason to enjoy ripping you apart.” His voice was low, laced with hatred. That button was a hated menace amongst all Hybrids. It triggered a surgical implant in their spines that would send them to the ground in intense pain, immobilized and twitching as the pain fried every nerve. It wasn’t pleasant. Charleen had learned how to fight past the pain in her years of experience. It still took everyone else down. Harley was pretty sure he could fight through the pain long enough to disembowel the fool before him, though. His dark intent must have been clearly evident, because the guard’s hand fell away from the button of his imminent death, and he stumbled backward to the safety of the guard house.

“Just you watch yourself and check in from now on,” he grumbled over the intercom speaker as the gates slid open. Rolling his neck, Harley continued toward his destination, angrily clamping down on his instinctive urge to rip the idiot’s throat out. He had more important issues to deal with right now.

Cajun opened his door with that dumb crooked grin on his face that the women seemed to wig out over. His shirt was rumpled hair spiked up all over the place. Harley rolled his eyes.

“Never mind. I’ll come back later.”

“Nope, no escape now. Besides, the festivities are over.” He gave a wink before calling out to Charleen that he’d be stepping out for a bit. Cajun ignored his little brother’s dark glare as he gave him a customary noogie, before stretching and sighing in pleasure.

“Bonzer day, yeah?” Harley grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Cajun’s eyes suddenly narrowed as he swooped in for the kill. “Wait a minute.” He leaned in and took a big whiff. “Wow.” Harley sighed but said nothing. He’d learned long ago to just let Cajun run through his little dialogues before trying to say a word.

“I mean
wow
. I couldn’t hardly smell it in dad’s room, but it’s plastered all over you now, bro. I’m going to have to hose myself off before I go back home, or Charleen will skin me alive.” Harley reveled in the honestly nervous expression in his brother’s eyes. He had to give it to Charleen. She was the one person on earth that could rein Caj in and make him behave. It was no easy task. Harley had been given the task for years before she showed up.

“So…I take it you’ve been to see her again? Or is it still that strong after last night? Because if so, whew! She is one potent girl!” Harley waited to see if Cajun was done, or just taking a breath. When his brother nudged him with an elbow, expectant look on his face, Harley knew it was his turn.

“Had to drop her bike off.” Cajun stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s it? You had to drop her bike off…and that’s why you reek of Amiel Potpourri?” Harley rolled his eyes.

“She invited me in for pancakes.”

“Pancakes! Is that what she called it?” Cajun wiggled his brows. Harley growled turning to leave.

“See ya tonight, Caj.”

“No no, I’m sorry.” He stepped beside Harley, hands in the air in apology. Harley stopped, jaw clenched but not going anywhere. “I take it back, lock it away forever to stay.” Cajun repeated the mantra from when they were kids. “Or at least until I find a good time to bring it out for blackmail, or pure torturous enjoyment.” He winked, getting as close to serious as one could expect from him on most occasions. Harley crossed his arms over his chest and searched for the right words.