Never Kiss a Bad Boy (38 page)

Looking to the side briefly, I nodded. My mouth was sour. “Yes.”

Until she proves herself... the answer is yes.

“Then tell me.” Holding my hand in hers, she curled my fingers into a fist. One by one, she gently tapped each of the letters on my knuckles. “What does this mean?”

I loathed thinking about this shit.
Stick to the basics.
“I got the tattoos when I was thirteen.”

“
Thirteen?
” she laughed, acting like she didn't believe me. I arched an eyebrow, watched her let my hand go. “Who would tattoo a thirteen-year old?”

“The wrong people will do anything for money. Anyway, you wanted to know what they meant, not how I got them.” Waiting for her to nod, I pressed on. “The phrase means... shit, how do I explain this?” So much of the meaning was tied to my history.

To what Jacob and I had done.

Shaking myself, I fought down the wave of sickness. My childhood memories could die in a sewer. I wished they would.

I said, “Think of life like—like land. Sturdy ground.” Marina titled her head, locks of hair tumbling down her shoulders. “Most people stand on this ground. Then there are... others. People who get pulled into the river.”

“The river?” Her doubt was strong. I didn't care. She wanted to understand but she
could not
understand. All Marina could do was listen, and my single option was to talk.

“This river is dark, and strong. It will drown you if you stay in it.” Breathing in sharply, I stared at my open palms. “It's a bad place for bad people. You're stuck in it, wondering if you'll make it to the other side or if you'll drop to the bottom and drown. And all you can do—the only option you'll ever have—is to swim.” In the pale light, my tattoos hurt my own eyes. “You swim, or you die. If you're lucky... you'll get to the other side.”

Freedom.

My eyes bounced up, finding her perplexed face.

Please don't let her be our anchor.

Marina leaned away, fiddling with the ends of her hair. “I don't understand. Why are you swimming? Why is that important to you?”

“Because it reminds me who I am, and what I am.” Those early days on the street were rough. Jacob and I did everything we could to stay alive. Stealing, fighting, struggling. Even then, that life had been better than what I'd abandoned.

I'd known the river way before we took our first contract.

The loud buzzing of my phone startled me. Marina flinched, too. Her eyes locked on my phone as I yanked it out. I saw Jacob's name a second before I heard him speak. “Hey,” he said, cheerful and smooth. “Where are you?”

Glancing at the girl across from me, I turned in my chair. “Just getting some coffee, what's up?”

“Is she with you?”

My heart stalled. “Yes.”

He breathed out, the sound crackling in my ear. “Kite, I need you to listen very carefully.”

Shutting my eyes, I showed my back to Marina and nodded to the air. Jacob was talking, a low rumble of a thundercloud. Tension built between my shoulder blades.

True to my word, I listened carefully to every word that slid into my skull. It was good that I was looking away from Marina. The last thing I wanted was for her to see my expression. She must have noticed the tightness in my body, though. I was imitating a cinder block.

Hidden from the world, my heart was a roiling sea.

Marina

––––––––

K
ite was hunched away from me, everything in his body language said this conversation was important.

Secret.

Lifting his head, he made a tiny sound of surprise. “The Calloway Club? Seriously?” Twisting, he stared at me from the corner of an eye. His lips moved, mouthing the words, 'I'll be right back.'

Not taking his coat, he slid out the front door with the bell jingling after him. The cafe window showed me what he was doing; pacing, talking intensely on his phone. I was positive it was Jacob who'd called.

My neck hairs were prickling already. What the hell was going on?

I'd wanted to ask more about his tattoos. His explanation had been too intricate, a little poetic, if you asked me. Poetic and Kite didn't go together in my brain.
One of these things is not like the other...

The door swung open. Kite power-walked back to me, shoving his phone into his jeans. He was positively sexy in his haphazard outfit, the guy could have worn a garbage bag and looked amazing, somehow.

Currently, the tight line of his mouth and frantic movements of his eyes wasn't super appealing. “What happened?” I asked, the instant he was within reach.

“I need you to stay here.” Grabbing his coat, he slid it on quickly. “Actually, go back home. Just stay there, okay?”

He towered over me, doing that thing where he tried to will me with his stare. Pushing my chair back so violently it screeched, I faced him down. “I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what that was all about. It was Jacob, wasn't it?”

Kite took a tiny inhale. I saw his brain working. “Marina, please. I'll tell you what's going on, but
only
if you promise me you will just go home.”

Home. I loved that he called it that.

It hurt, too, a needle in my gut.

“But if I can help—”

“No, Marina.” Kite was quicksilver, gripping my shoulders and bending so we were eye to eye. Nothing but severe darkness coiled in his stare. “I'm not joking. I
will tell you
, but you have to promise me you'll leave. Okay? Is that clear?”

Holy shit, he wasn't playing. I thought of Kite as lighthearted, but right then, he was as frightening and unmoving as Jacob had ever been.

The gravity of the situation made me lower my voice. Nerves forced my eyes to resist blinking. “Okay. Yeah, I promise I'll go back to the apartment. Tell me what's happening.”

He didn't let go of me. It was like he thought I'd just dissipate into the sweet-smelling air. “We found him.”

My knees buckled.

Kite scooped under my arms to keep me on my feet. My head was too light, a crunching, crumpling whine growing in my ears. Was my brain collapsing?

“Shit, you need to sit down,” he said.

“No. I'm alright.” Commanding my spine to stop buckling, I rolled my shoulders back and impersonated all the powerful people I knew of. I had to be strong. This was it. “You guys really found him?” I asked.

His head jostled, brief and brisk. “It's real. Jacob is there, and I need to go meet him. Go back home, Marina.”

All of my skin had turned clammy. “I have to come.”

“You promised,” he growled. The severity of his reaction startled me. But didn't he understand? How could I just turn and walk away? “Marina. You. Can. Not. Come. I need to leave, now, before Jacob gets in any danger. You have to listen to me. This is for your benefit.” Tipping my chin up, the fire became feathers and his tone was almost... sad. “Please, go home. I need you to do this for me. For us.”

It was the most unfair thing he'd ever asked of me.

My nod was a single movement, hair rustling like a dead tree. “I understand.” Air filled my lungs, but it didn't help me breathe easier. “Don't kill him. The plan was always to let me do it.”

He took a step backwards. “Your safety is the plan.”

His words were romantic, protective.

All I heard was 'we might kill him before you can.'

The possibility was filling me with panic. Leveling my voice was a challenge. “Please be careful. Both of you.”

Kite didn't look back at me after that. The speed that took him out of the cafe was unnatural. A man on a mission.

But that mission belonged to me.

I was putting the pieces together. He was lying, and it could only be about one thing.

Jacob and Kite... they were going to kill my target.

They'd promised him to me, and they were going to take that away.

Were they really ending this to protect me? I didn't know their reason, just that they were betraying me. How could he expect me to keep this promise? They were going to steal my revenge.

Even if their intent was good, this was
mine.
I deserved it.

I fucking deserved the right.

Cece.

Just thinking her name was fueling me. I needed to be the one to look that murderer in the eye and pull the trigger. That belonged entirely to me. To my family.

Kite had left me in the cafe, expecting me to return home. Stalking him was impossible. I didn't need to, though. I already knew where he was going.

He'd let it slip when he was talking to Jacob. My brain had imprinted the name.

The Calloway Club.

Grabbing my jacket, I punched my arms through the sleeves mid-run out the door.

I didn't like breaking promises. But Kite would understand.

He just had to.

Jacob

––––––––

“H
ow did it go?” I tapped the side of my bluetooth, wandering through the busy bar.

The Calloway Club was funny. Bright and grimy at once, not too disgusting. But what kind of club opened before eight at night?

They'd painted the windows black. It made it
feel
like it was late, no sun getting in, all shadows and flickering lights over an almost empty floor. It was the perfect place for someone to hide out.

Kite's voice beeped through the tiny device. “Fine. She won't show.”

“You're sure?”

“Fucking—yes. I'm sure. She promised me.”

I wanted him to be right.

Wandering the place, I surveyed out of habit. There was no danger here, it was a simple business in a mildly bad part of the city. I had no expectation that Lars would appear.

Laying a trap for Marina wasn't fair. However, it was better than passing judgment on her before she'd had an opportunity to show us her true colors.

Kite's job had been to lay into her that she
could not
come here. She had to believe that this was a big deal. Otherwise, her promise would have been simple to make and keep.

I needed her to choose between her revenge... and us.

If we were second fiddle, then the fact was she could betray us any day. Now, or in the future.

A future that looked brighter by the minute.

Being able to touch her every day, wake up and know I could kiss her soft lips, was a luxury I ached to make real. Everything relied on her.

Trust.

It came down to a promise made in a coffee shop. I hadn't even been there, but Kite believed she meant her word.

All that was left to do was wait.

Migrating, I moved to the wide bar and sat in the middle. I had a direct line of sight with the entrance. Settling in, I linked my fingers in my lap and counted the seconds. The movement to my left told me a bartender was rushing around. Something to take the edge off sounded good.

I was halfway through turning, ready to speak to whoever could get me a glass.

“Shit,” Kite hissed in my ear.

Dreading what I already knew I would see, I turned towards the door. In her dark jacket, Marina should have blended into the crowd. To me, with my heart crushed under a wave of defeat and my eyes begging for this to be a mirage, I couldn't have missed her.

Marina had failed the test.

Her head shifted, finding me across the room. The flicker of relief she glowed with choked me. I wasn't just angry, this went further, shattering me in the bottom of my soul.

This was what heartbreak felt like.

I'd promised Kite a chance. It had been easy for me to offer it, because deep down, Marina was everything I wanted, perhaps even needed.

And she couldn't be trusted. Her fate was locked.

Fuck, I wanted to jump off of a cliff.

She was coming my way, uncertainty turning her eyes glossy. Without looking to my left, where the bartender's shadow was in my peripheral, I lifted a hand and spoke. “Whiskey, clean. Make it a double.”

A cliff wasn't in my near future. A drunken escape would have to do.

“Uh, sure man. Let me see your ID.”

If I wasn't so foggy with grief over the future-corpse walking my way, I would have thought the voice was familiar. I was too lost to focus.

Yanking out my wallet, I slammed my ID onto the bar and slid it his way without tearing my gaze from Marina. “Make it fast,” I hissed. She was seconds away from me.

His laugh was surprised. “Holy shit. Don't I know you?”

The grooves of my brain boiled. Turning, slow as tree-sap, I looked into the familiar face of my bartender. Rail-thin, socket cheeks, bruise colored eye bags.

Juice.

My would-be cocaine dealer.

His awkward smile grew bigger the longer he stared at me. “It
is
you!” Juice flashed his teeth, stunned by our encounter. He wasn't alone. “Man! You clean up good, Dennis! You quit the thug life like me?”

Battery acid jolted through my cells. My instinct was to turn and flee.

Juice was here, the only person who could connect me to Hecko.

I needed to think.

A plan, an escape, a way out.

Looking down, I spotted my ID. It wouldn't read the name 'Dennis.' He was going to learn my real name, and then, he'd wonder why I'd lied—who I was. He'd be able to give me up to anyone who asked.

“For real, though,” he said, leaning in close but speaking too loudly for the situation. “You did what I did, right? Left the game? Fuck, how could you
not?
Seeing Hecko's face all over the news cinched it for me. Him and Frank, they were dudes that I
knew
.” He ran a finger over his throat, frowning. “Ugly fucking business. I'm done with it. Got hired here yesterday, way better than selling dust.”

Licking my bottom lip, I judged the distance between my ID—that was luckily face down on the bar—and Juice.

Fate wasn't on my side today.

His fingers came down, pressing the plastic into the wet surface but not lifting it yet. I was trapped. I could
not
let him see my ID, and I couldn't run without it. “New job,” I said, catching his eye. “That's great, man. Good for you.”

“Right?” Snorting, his sharp shoulders went to his ears in a shrug. “Man, this is weird. Like, I met you, what, a week ago or something? Now you're here. It's crazy!”