Better When He's Bold

“Someone who doesn’t have a lunatic trying to run them over can go get her. Why don’t you call the blond Adonis and ask him to grab her? I bet he’s already floating around that part of town on fight night anyway.”

I bit my lip. “That’s not exactly in the scope of our relationship.”

“Bry . . . the guy bought you a new computer and he stares at you like he wants to eat you up. Ask him to collect your sloppy friend and then go give him a proper thank-you.”

It sounded so appealing, so easy. Handing something off to someone else to take care of was a pipe dream in my world, though, and I didn’t know what I would do if Race actually stepped up to the plate and took care of Adria for me. I would probably fall in love with him. Like I wasn’t already halfway there as it was.

“It’s fine. I’ll go pick her up and drop her at home. She would do it for me.”

He lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me and I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, she wouldn’t, but I know how bad that place can be, and I can’t, in good conscience, just leave her there.”

Ramon bent down and pressed a kiss to my forehead as I slid behind the wheel of the car.

“You be careful, Bry. Lotta bad things seem to have it out for you right now.”

They sure did. Which sucked, because really, at the heart of who I was, there was a good person there. Maybe at one point I had been spoiled, a little self-absorbed and unaware, but when it came time to put up or shut up, I had done what needed to be done. Where was my good karma for all of that?

As I drove into the Point I noticed that there was this weird line, I could almost see it, where things went from kind of run-down to absolutely decimated. It was like everything, the buildings, the roads, the lights, the very ground the place sat on, and the few brave souls daring enough to stake claim to the wildness of the Point, had just become what this area was all about. There was darkness that had nothing to do with nighttime. There was an oppression that hung in the air that had nothing to do with pollution or smog. There was a film of grime and dirt that had nothing to do with it being the inner city. It was all like the fabric, the threads that wove the Point together were made up of all the worst things that could be found in one place. And the deeper into the heart of the city I drove, the tighter and more obvious those knots and patterns became.

I didn’t want to park the BMW and get out and expose myself to those creepy, crawly eyes I still felt all over me, so I tried calling Adria and telling her to meet me out front. She didn’t answer my first call, or the second one, and she didn’t reply when I sent her a flurry of angry text messages. I really wanted to turn around and head back home, but the fact that she had told me she was feeling funny after drinking with a couple of guys was mixed with my knowledge of the moral-less heathens that populated places like this, and as a result I couldn’t talk myself into abandoning her.

I parked the BMW around the corner, sent a little prayer up that it would be there when I got back, and headed for the warehouse that housed the underground club. There was a pretty good chance I wouldn’t even be able to get inside. The door had a code and a security system attached to it. Last time I had been here I had gotten inside only because I was with Dovie.

I shivered a little as soon as I shut the door to the car. I could feel those prying eyes on me, could practically hear footsteps falling in time with my own, and it had fear riding hard at the back of my neck. I picked up the pace and walked around the edge of the old warehouse where I knew the dilapidated stairs that led to the inner sanctum were located. As soon as I cleared the edge of the alley, a heavy hand fell on my arm and I burst out a terrified scream. My heart was in my throat and I jolted back so hard, I toppled over on my butt. I didn’t stop screaming even when a mysterious liquid that was on the ground started to seep into the fabric of my pants.

The guy looming over me was thin and twitchy. He had greasy brown hair that was hanging in his eyes, and he looked as afraid of me as I was of him. He was dancing from foot to foot and held both of his hands up in front of him like he was trying to ward me away. I snapped my mouth shut on a gasp and glared up at him.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?”

He shifted around some more and his eyes darted to the side.

“I’m sorry, so sorry. Don’t tell Race.” He sounded legitimately panicked, and when I groaned and lumbered to my feet, he jumped back from me like I was going to stab him or something.

“What?”

“Race. Don’t tell Race I scared you and that you fell. I saw you come around the corner and there was this guy, a big guy, and he was following you. I just wanted to warn you not to go into the alley by yourself.”