Page 25 of The Shadows We Keep

Got you, sucker.

He flashes me the bird before finishing the drinks he’s working on for another customer and heads in our direction.

His eyes ignore me completely, taking in my beautiful blonde friend who’s currently draped over my back like a koala.

“John, Stacey. Stacey meet John.”

Her hand shoots out to shake his, but he brings it to his lips instead. It’d be funny, but shit like this happens almost every time I go out with her. The girl could easily be a model, but her looks are the last thing that matters to her. It’s why I love her so much.

“What can I get you ladies?” John’s flirtation is turned back up to eleven.

“Whiskey again for me. Jack, not Jim this time.” My snotty half-smirk irritates the shit out of him by the looks of it, and satisfaction glides through me.

“How about for you, beautiful?” he asks.

It’s like night and day watching him interact with us. If I didn’t know any better, I think he was gracing the stages of Broadway.

“Vodka Soda and two shots of tequila with salt and lime,” Stace orders.

“Oh shit, you’re out to cause trouble tonight,” I shout over the music, glancing over my shoulder to check the stage as the thrums of a guitar sound check in the mic.

She drops a wet, sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“I’m going home with him tonight.” She giggles in my ear.

I pat her hands that are practically groping my chest.

Of course she is.

We throw back the tequila shots, the burn a welcome numbing in my veins, the limes bitter against my tongue. I entangle our fingers, swiping my whiskey and pulling her away from her conquest to the floor, getting closer to the stage where the band is almost ready to start.

“Did anyone else end up wanting to come out tonight?” I yell in her ear as we make it to the front. It’s easy enough for me to sneak through the crowd with my compact frame. And as soon as guys look Stace’s way, they part like the red sea.

“Nope, just me and you.” She hip bumps me but instead of our hips meeting, hers hits my ribs and almost sends me stumbling in the other direction.

The band starts up, and the music rains down on us. The volume’s deafening but worth it. A deep base pounds against my chest. Their lead singer screams into the microphone. The lyrics fade as my drinks set in, and my body moves to the rhythm.

They break halfway through their set and I’m in desperate need of cooling down. Sweat trickles down my spine. My leather leggings cling to my body. They’ll be a bitch to take off tonight, and if that wasn’t the case, I’d be heading for the bathroom. But I’m also not stupid enough to stand in line for the next twenty minutes trying to make it in there. Stace heads in that direction, regardless.

I trek toward the front door in search of air that isn’t heavy with humidity from all the bodies cramped together. The door swings open, the bouncer still seated on his stool—ever the lookout. His expression doesn’t change, just like the queen’s guard. Gathering my hair in my hand, I pull it up, exposing my neck to the cool breeze that swirls through the night air.

Digging in my bra, I pull out my cell, wiping the screen against my shirt to dry away the collected moisture. I’m eager to see if he texted me back. I’m disappointed when the only notifications I have are a few texts from Stace to let me know she was on her way and updates from my social media account.

I take in a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air—well as fresh as you can get when you’re in the middle of an overpopulated city. My limbs are heavy with alcohol. I might drink on the regular, but that doesn’t matter when you’re only five foot two. It sets in quick and doesn’t leave for hours. I spin and rest my back against the grating brick wall. It scratches my exposed skin, but it’s cold and my body temperature hits a comfortable point.

I fix my eyes on the small screen in my hands, his number displayed in bright blue. It’s closing in on midnight, but I know the likelihood of him being awake is high. That man never sleeps, at least from my observations from across the street. He said he had work, but who works at this time of night?

That’s ironic considering my shifts run through the witching hour, but that’s a different story. Before I register what I’m doing, I tap on his number and my phone displays the video call. It rings, once, twice, three times and just as I’m about to select end, the screen turns black, and then his face appears.

Shit.

My brain finally catches up to what I just did, but I can’t back out now. His deep, cerulean eyes drive straight into mine. His dark hair is messy around the edges. He’s shirtless and seated up against what seems to be a headboard. Black ink spreads across his chest in detailed outlines of flowers surrounding a beautiful woman, ruminant of a goddess I’m not familiar with. I’m staring, analyzing every little detail pixilated on my phone’s screen.

“Keira.” His rough voice washes over me, pulling me from my examination.

“Yes?” I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know why I even pressed the call button at all.

“Are you still at Gypsy’s?” His tone is direct. He sits up, limiting my view to only his face. And while his face is beautiful, I miss the dips of his abs that I desperately want to run my tongue down. My core tinges at the thought and I shift against the wall.

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