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Manuel guides us out of the VIP room and walks us onto the buzzing street. Groups of people are smoking, shouting, and even dancing, but that all fades to the background when Manuel pulls Connor in for a hug. “I can sense your loneliness.” His voice has taken on a friendly tone that makes my skin crawl. “There arebrothersout there for you. Ready to welcome you, if only—”
“Back off dude,” I warn, but Manuel just gives me a smile before crooning in Connor’s ear, “Your boyfriend radiates negative energy. Look at him.”
“That’s it.” My pent-up anger, the one that’s been lingering for days, rises to the surface like a bursting volcano.Nobodytreats me this way.
My fist meets his cheekbone, the contact rippling across his surprised face, and his head hits the wall behind him with a thud. I let my muscles flex, then punch his nose, enjoying the way he hunches forward, cupping the broken bone with a loud cry. My foot goes up and I give him a kick at his knee, making him buckle forward before he hits the ground. “I told you to back off.”
“Merde,” he spits, rage shooting from his eyes. “What the hell is your problem?” He gets up and shoves me back, making me laugh with a vicious smirk. “Oh yeah, bring it on. Fight me, you bitch.” Crooking my finger, I watch him approach, and I ready my stance to attack him again. He’s stronger than I’d anticipated when he pushes forward, grabbing me by both shoulders and shoving me against a car hood, making us both wince when the alarm goes off.
“Oh, come on, is that all you’ve got?” I bark. “Fight me, man.” I need it, need the reassuring, predictable pain. He shakes his head but pushes me right back when I try to get up. “Are you a pussy or what?” I taunt, needing the reaction. Needing the ache. Anything else other than that mindfuckery I experienced in there. My fists are clenched, knuckles pale, the pressure high. “Come on,” I practically beg.
“Stop it.” Connor steps forward and pulls Manuel off of me, a fierce look on his face, his mouth pulled into a thin line. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“He just wanted a good fight, didn’t you?” Someone hands Manuel a wet cloth, and he’s holding it against his nose as he glares at me. “You jealous son of a bitch.”
“Jealous?” Both Connor and I repeat at the same time, and the words explode in my chest as I look away. “I’m not jealous, man,” I mumble. I don’tdojealousy.
“Yeah, whatever. This little fight has just changed our plans for tomorrow.”
Feeling that there won’t be any more bloodshed, the crowd scatters and people return to their usual business of smoking or making out. One of the bouncers comes shouting after us and I catch up with Connor as we make our way toward the car. I’m feeling numb and a little light-headed. Climbing into the backseat, the officer watches us through the rearview mirror, her lips turned down in a disapproving frown.
Chapter 12: Austin
“So, wanna tell me what happened back there?” He asks once we make it back to the apartment. I’d expected him to go all ballistic on me—hell, I know that Ideservedthat—but no, his voice is soft, crackled with fatigue. Making it so much worse.
“I’m sorry I fucked up.”
He turns to face me, his glasses low on his nose, showing off his low lashes like dark feathers. “Is this the same guy who sees every single thing he does in life as one big contest that he wants to win?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “The same guy who always wants to show off in whatever competition, even if it means crushing all the other competitors?”
“Ugh, that doesn’t sound very friendly.”
“And you’re givingmean apology?” The twinkle in his eyes gives him away and a tentative, mostly relieved laugh escapes my mouth. “I guess so.”
“Youcompletelyfucked up our plans for tomorrow, you realize that?”
“Hm.”
“Like, theentirereason we came here in the first place.”
I bite my lip, feeling a slither of remorse for the first time.
“And all that, forwhat? Because you felt like picking a fight? Because you didn’t like his face?”
Because he couldn’t have you, sweetling.Shaking off that disturbing thought, I walk silently to the kitchen and grab an ice pack from the freezer for my sore, right hand. If I don’t cool that sting, it’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker tomorrow.
“Manuel won’t be able to help us tomorrow evening, so we’ll be on our own.”
“It’s not like he was going to help us anyway,” I counter. “He was practically recruiting you to join their little group of weirdos.”
Connor gives me a sweet smile. “I knew you’d save me.”
I don’t know if he’s just messing with me, but those words make me feel all sorts of hot and happy.
He grabs his computer from his desk. “Antoine may not have been helpful in the traditional way, but he gave me a good clue as to how to move ahead.” His eyes might be foggy with sleep, but his voice is sharp with newfound ideas. Then he lets out a yawn and stumbles to the couch. “We need to know the identity and location of the murderer in the States, that’s our highest priority. We can always come back and finish our business here,later.” He looks up with that vacant stare I’ve come to recognize. “So we need access to the phone of the person he’ll be in touch with.”
“TheInitiator?” I try, but he shrugs me off. “He won’t be there, Manuel said so himself. No, theMaster.”
I still can’t bring myself to voice these ridiculous titles, but by now evenIhave to accept that they’re real. After all, I had my own taste of them earlier tonight.
