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Gritting my teeth, I muscled my way out the back door and tried not to breathe in through my nose. I’d just dumped the bags in the dumpster and dusted off my hands when harsh laughter cut through the artificial stillness of the alley.
“This is rich. Slumming it?”
Hair prickled on the back of my neck. My spine locked as I shifted toward the raspy, smoker’s voice. Someone stood in the space between the bar and the building next door, blocking the exit to the street. They must be assuming I intended to make a break for it.
Like hell. If someone had brought a fight to my doorstep, they’d get one.
Eagerly.
“Can I help you?” I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral. Behind my back, I cracked my knuckles.
I hoped I’d get a chance to do some damage. All I needed was an outlet. If they gave me a legit one, they’d be doing me a favor.
“Help me?” She laughed. “Right.” The woman shifted, giving me a glimpse of her face, hidden by a gray hoodie. I didn’t recognize her nose and mouth, but that wasn’t saying much since the lighting in the alley was shit. She wore shorts and sneakers and appeared to be around average height and weight.
In other words, I could take her without breaking a nail. Dammit.
“I asked you once if I could help you.” I made a show of returning to the door and reaching for the handle. Sure, it was just a show, but at least I pretended well. “If you’re beyond it, I’m going inside.”
See, that was me being nice. Giving a warning. I wasn’t the nasty, rage-filled bitch some on the circuit had thought. I could even be solicitous before I broke someone’s nose if they laughed at me. One. More. Time.
Just once more.
“Not so tough now, are you?”
I spun back in time to see a flash of light hair as the woman sprinted out of the alley.
She questioned my toughness then ran away. Okay then.
I considered chasing after her, then decided I didn’t have time for enjoyable pursuits. As much I would love—capital L—having a reason to use some babe’s soft and rounded parts for a punching bag, I had more important tasks to take care of. I had to find Tray.
Sighing, I yanked open the door and went back inside the bar. Maturity sure tasted bitter without a violence chaser.
Once I’d grabbed my backpack and emerged on the street, I pulled out my phone and called Tray. It was serious if I wasn’t texting. I preferred typing over talking any day of the week.
The call went straight to voicemail. In spite of expecting it, I was disappointed. I’d just given up kicking a deserving female’s ass for him. He could at least answer his damn phone.
Selfish Sally, that was m
e. Always.
“It’s me. I heard you took off. Carly’s all worried, and I know you don’t want her to be. I’m not saying you can’t go off and do your manly chilling thing on your own, but people love you and we’re concerned. Call me, okay? I got out of work early and I’m looking for you. I…” I swallowed. “I don’t want to go home without you, all right? There, I said it.”
I hung up before I could sound any more stupid and girly. God, I didn’t want to go to my apartment without Tray. That was the level I’d descended to.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been virtually certain that wherever he was, he was hurting. I could tolerate anything but that.
Shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder, I started to walk down the block. People swarmed the street as always, spilling out of the bars and other establishments, whizzing by on skateboards, smoking cigarettes as they yelled come-ons to girls who giggled and tossed their hair. I gripped my bag tighter and realized I couldn’t even drum up my usual disgust for the flirtation game. Too much of me was tied up with Tray for me to even pay attention to what was happening in more than a peripheral way.
Where would he have gone? School, maybe. Hadn’t he had a test tonight? I didn’t remember. Bad girlfriend. The Cage? Nah, not if he really didn’t want to be found. Possibly Slater’s, especially now that his temporary live-in, not-really-a-girlfriend had moved in with Slater’s brother, Liam.
Somehow it wasn’t as awkward as it sounded.
Maybe he’d gone out driving. He liked to head out to Long Island sometimes, just to get out of the city. He’d grown up there, but he rarely drove near his parents’ house. Close, but not too close. I seriously doubted he’d go near there tonight, unless he’d decided to confront the situation head-on.
What the full scope of the situation was, I needed to find out.
I skirted the return trip of the skateboarder, ducking into the doorway of the corner bodega to avoid being mowed down. A blonde girl in the store made me snap back to the scene in the alley. I’d written it off as typical drunk nonsense, but what if wasn’t? What if my caller had gotten bold?
