For the Bond (Romantic Suspense) (Beyond Blood, #3) (8 page)

“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.” 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 bar tender. Skull-thin, socket cheeks, bruise colored eye-bags.

Juice. My cocaine dealer.

That awkward smile grew bigger the longer he stared at me. “Holy hell, man! It
is
you! With your haircut and—what, didn't you used to wear glasses?” 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?” He motioned at my clothes, the suit far nicer than the dirt-coated dregs I'd had on in the Pink Factory.

Battery acid jolted through my nerves. 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.' How the hell had my wig and glasses not thrown this guy off my scent?

“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, that was it. Him and Frank, 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 me. Fate wasn't on my side today. Juice's fingers came down, pressing the plastic into the wet surface but not lifting it yet. I was trapped. I could
not
let him take my ID with him. “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!”

Yes. It was crazy.

The tiny voice in my ear was a growl. “Jacob,” Kite whispered. “What's happening?”

“Still can't believe Hecko is dead,” Juice mumbled. “I hadn't really thought about him for awhile until you and I talked that night.” Squinting, Juice looked me over and considered his next words. “Life is so fucking funny. You ask about him, and then he's in the news. Just... dead.”

Hecko's pale face entered my mind. At this rate, Juice's memory of that fateful night was going to be my undoing. Could I get my ID before he lifted it and read my real name? Connected the dots that the man he'd met didn't exist? I needed a miracle. Maybe, if I whispered into my bluetooth, Kite could come help.

My miracle toppled partially over the bar and knocked whatever was in her hand into Juice. The kid's shirt was soaked, his shout and Marina's gasp louder than the thumping music. “Oh my god!” she cried, hands over her mouth. “I'm so sorry! My foot caught on the chair and I just—I'm really sorry!”

Wide-eyed, I looked at her sideways. Juice was wiping himself down, groaning at the mess. I knew an opportunity when I saw it. In a blink, my fingers swiped my ID off the bar. It was tucked safely into my pocket.

Had Marina just rescued me?

Between the time I'd watched her approach and now, she'd managed to take her jacket off and find a glass to spill on the kid. It would have been a split-second decision. She'd recognized I was in trouble. It was possible she'd heard some of what Juice was saying, too, but...
She saved me,
I thought in amazement. She could have let Juice flip my ID, see my real name, and connect the dots that I'd been lying to him. If Hecko's death was strong in his mind, strong enough that he'd quit dealing and was now bar-tending, it was likely he'd scrutinize my position in all of this.

So many tiny threads, always ready to unravel and undo me. This was why Marina was such a risk to me—to us. Life was already a series of landmines. Where was the sense in carrying one around when it could explode at any time?

Marina's laugh, high and sweet and so very fake, got my attention. I watched her as she bent close to Juice over the bar. I hadn't noticed till now, but her white shirt had gotten wet when she'd spilled the drink. Juice had certainly spotted the see-through material, his eyes bugging wide.

“Jacob, talk to me. Are you okay?” I could tell Kite's nerves were fraying. He didn't know what I was seeing. In the middle of her giggle, hair thrown back and chest thrust out, Marina owned Juice's attention. This was my chance to make an escape. Juice didn't care who I was or who he thought I was. Not with a woman like her all over him.

My heels clicked on the floor. The club noise drowned everything out but her sweet voice. That never left my head, trapped like a butterfly in a jar. In my hands, this girl's life was as thin as those gossamer wings. “I'm fine,” I said, tapping the button by my ear. “Go home. I'll meet you there.”

Kite's silence stretched out. “Marina.” Her name crackled through the static. “I saw her walk inside.”

“She broke her promise.” Stating it, I sounded cold and flat. The weight in my chest wanted to drag me to the floor. One test, a simple way to see if she would choose her word to us over her lust for revenge.

She saved me,
I reminded myself. Slamming the door open, I shoved out into the parking lot.
She didn't have to. If anything, standing by and listening to what he was saying would have been helpful to her. If it were me... and I needed information... I would have hovered and waited.

Marina hadn't done that. But she
had
come to the club in the first place.

My desires were fighting in my heart and my head. They were going to tear me apart and leave me in pieces. If Kite had never mentioned this... this chance to justify letting her live, I could have gone on with the plan. It would have been nothing to spill her blood. Nothing.

Marina is right not to trust me,
I mused bitterly.
I'm dangerous...

And I do tell lies to everyone. Including myself.

Dammit. I didn't know who I was anymore. Jacob of the past, he'd do anything to keep the people he loved safe. I refused to lose Kite. I'd never lose anyone I cared about... never again.

Once had been enough.

Where did Marina fit into this pledge?
She doesn't,
I warned myself.
Marina isn't part of the bond. She can't be.

Killing was easy. Letting her live had become the struggle. My divided wishes would drive me to the brink and fracture me. Who was I kidding? I was already broken, the edge of insanity was tickling my toes.

“Jacob,” Kite said softly. The strain in his tone shook me awake. If he'd been crying or trying
not
to cry, I didn't know. But the way he sounded dug at me. “...I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I asked, ducking my chin into my jacket's tall collar.

“I shouldn't have said we could trust her. I should have listened. You were right about her... I just wanted to think... fuck. Fuck everything.
Dammit
.” The bluetooth wavered. Kite's breathing was raspy.

He had no clue what had happened in the club. All he'd seen from his position staking out the area was Marina crossing the street and going into Calloway's. He didn't know the danger I'd been in, or what she'd done for me.

Lifting my hand, I perched my finger on the power button. “Blood Brothers. That's all we can trust. Nothing changes.”

Tapping the device off, I was left to wallow in my thoughts.

Marina

––––––––

T
he name cut through the air of the club and stabbed my guts.
Frank.
The kid behind the bar had mentioned Frank. Whoever the gangly guy was, he was talking to Jacob like he knew him and rambling about things that sounded like a flood of clues for the lock-box of my life. The fucking revenge that alluded me.

This man had answers.

Jacob was sitting there, stiff as a mountain. I was close enough to hear the conversation, but I'd slowed my approach. At first, I'd been relieved to see Jacob. It meant this place was important, that maybe the guy I was after
was
really nearby.

The pain in his blue eyes when he'd seen me had cooled my excitement. Okay, yeah, I guess I had lied to Kite when I said I wouldn't come. Was that why Jacob looked so hurt? The lines that had crawled over his frown were unnerving. I had the oddest sensation that he'd been waiting for me.

Forget that,
I told myself firmly.
Listen to what they're talking about!
But I couldn't, not easily. The fear that was permeating off of Jacob was probably invisible to others. I'd seen a lot of the faces he could make. Facets, as he'd called them. Fear was a weird one. For some reason, this kid behind the bar was freaking him out.

There are moments where you have to decide to take advantage of a situation, or to give it up for the greater good. My greater good was a clean-cut man with clever hands and a fierce smirk. I hated that his delicious lips were stuck in a scowl.

Jacob's eyes moved. They darted down, I saw the white plastic on the bar peeking from under the kid's pointed fingertips.
His ID?
Yeah, that was it. Jacob was trying to get his identification back. He needed it, but couldn't just force it out of the guy's hands. My intuition warned that if the bartender saw his ID, Jacob was fucked.

My life was full of weird shit lately. What I was about to do was up there on the list. Passing an empty table, I snatched a glass that was half-full of some unknown drink. Mostly melted ice, I figured. I did it all in mere seconds; jacket off, glass at the ready. The kid was my target.

Pretending to stumble, I cried out. Shooting my torso over the bar, I splashed him and me with the drink. It was fucking cold. His eyes shot wide, hands flying upwards. Before he could get angry, I started apologizing. “I'm so sorry! My foot caught on the chair and I just—I'm really sorry!”

Jamming my hip towards Jacob, I somehow missed him. He was already standing, good. I tossed him the quickest of looks. I couldn't tell his expression, but I
did
see the bluetooth. No question, he'd been talking to Kite. Holy shit, maybe the murderer really was here.

The guy was drying himself off, looking more embarrassed than angry. “It's fine! Uh, it's fine. No worries.” His stare flicked to my chest. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. This was ridiculous, but it had worked. Jacob had snatched his ID and left the scene.

“Guess I'm just clumsy,” I laughed. Reaching out, I offered my hand. “I'm M—elony, by the way.”
Don't give him your real name.
That was close.

Beaming, he dropped the towel and shook my fingers. “Juice.” Was that his name or... what he was offering me? “Here, let me get you a new drink, Melony. On the house.”

I didn't want a drink. I wanted information. “Thanks,” I beamed, grabbing the glass and sniffing it. After the weird encounter with the guy that had tried to drug me at the charity event, I was hesitant to put my lips on the cup. Sure, I'd watched him pour it, but still. “Listen,” I said, peering over my shoulder to make sure Jacob was gone. “I wanted to ask, that guy you were talking to...”

“Dennis?” Juice blinked, following my eyes dejectedly.

“Right.
Dennis
.” Yeah, I was on the right track.
This
was why Jacob had looked so nervous. “How do you know him?”

The skinny kid was getting cagey. Avoiding my eyes, no matter how close I leaned, he cleared his throat. “Uh, listen. I just got this job, and I'd rather not... I don't want to lose it. You feel me?”

I didn't. “Sure. I just want to know about him, why can't you—”

Lifting a hand, he cut me off with a sharp motion. On a napkin, he scribbled something down. “How about you call me sometime. You're just my type, I think we'd have a blast.” Juice winked, his angled smirk turning my stomach.

Shoving the napkin in my purse, I sighed. He was freaking out, clearly this wasn't the place to grill him. “Alright. Can you just tell me one little thing?” Waiting for him to nod, I crooked a finger and leaned in. “I overheard you and Dennis talking. You knew a guy named Frank? Frank Montego?” Juice's eyebrows flew to his hairline. My heart was dancing. “You did. Okay. Who is the other guy you mentioned, Hecko I think it was?” I'd heard him say it at least twice.

A full body shiver went through his lanky body. “Yo, why does he keep coming up? This is fucking weird.”

Someone across the bar was trying to flag him down. Juice looked that way, considering ending this conversation here. “Please, it's important. Tell me who that is,” I begged. There was a wild storm in me, it was eager and hungry and god it was praying Hecko was my man. Let him be the other murderer.

“He was Frank's nephew,” Juice mumbled. His skin was fading into chalky white. “Fucking emphasis on the was. Guy is dead, now. They found him the other day in an alley behind a dumpster.” That rang a bell, I didn't know why. “Look... this shit aint fit for where we are. You got my number, sweetie. I gotta take this.” Nodding at the customer, Juice turned his back and started ignoring me.

Deflating, I watched him go. Mixed within my moment of frustration was a hot, bubbling optimism. He had more information, he just wasn't willing to talk about it here. Fine. I was walking away with the phone number of the first person who was able to give me a lead.

Tonight had been a good night for me.

****

W
hile I waited an hour in the club, it became clear that Jacob and Kite weren't coming back. That also meant my target wasn't showing. My gut warned me that this had been some sort of set-up, but I was too elated from meeting Juice. It helped soften the blow.

They weren't at Kite's when I got back. Determined to confront them about what had happened, I headed upstairs. The two men were waiting for me when I pushed open Jacob's front door. Both of them sat on the couches, drinks in hand.