Finding Me (Another Falls Creek Romance Book 2) Page 8

  “Perhaps.” Azaria’s eyes rake over me. “I’ve known JJ all my life. I can assure you that he saw you as a stray. Doesn’t matter whether it’s a human or an animal, he’s attracted to those in need.”

  My face tightens. It takes all the strength I possess to keep my cool. “Listen, you don’t know a thing about me. Personally, I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Pivoting on my heel, I sprint back to the apartment. I understand protecting friends. Shit, I’d do the same for any of the fellas, including Cash. I wouldn’t bash someone without reason. That woman’s attitude and words were uncalled for.

  Maybe she knows something.

  Not possible. Grandfather made it so that no one, human or otherwise, would detect my true identity. No. Azaria is probably a jealous woman wanting JJ to herself. If that’s the case, she’s not his friend.

  Music and JJ’s husky voice greet me when I open the apartment door. I don’t recognize the melody, but the words are beautiful. Yet, the ballad misses an element. Leaning against the wall, I listen to the layers of notes blending together. It’s the keyboard. A digital instrument synthesizes music, but it lacks heart. That’s what JJ’s song lacks. It has no soul.

  I push off the wall and walk into the kitchen.

  “That was quick.” JJ puts down his composition book.

  “I didn’t finish.” Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I say, “A friend of yours cut my run short.”

  “Oh?” The ocean flowing in his eyes freezes. “What friend?”

  I twist off the lid and sit down. “Azaria.”

  “What did Az have to say?”

  “It seems you have a habit of picking up strays.” I take a swig of water. “She thinks I’m only another stray to you. Is that what I am? A stray pup?”

  “No,” JJ says quickly, before pressing his lips together. A grimace passes over his face. “You’re not a stray. Az had no business saying that to you.”

  Standing, he comes over to the sofa. Why the hell did he do that? As he sits down, JJ’s hand rests on my knee. It’s such an innocent gesture, but it makes my flesh tingle. My muscles tense as visions of this morning’s interlude fill my mind. I try to ignore the memory, but I’m craving for JJ to stroke me again.

  Concentrate on drinking the damned bottle of water.

  “I told you earlier I want to get to know you better. Do you think what happened this morning happens with every man I meet?”

  “The verdict is still out.” If he doesn’t remove his hand soon, I’m going to need another cold shower.

  “I promise you I’m not that kind of man.” His hand lingers a moment longer before he returns to his composition pad. “Colton, I’ll speak to Az. We’ve been friends since we were kids. She thinks she’s looking out for me, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Sure.” Nodding, I push to my feet, hoping he doesn’t notice my crotch. I’m so fucking hard walking is going to be painful. “I’m going to shower.”

  JJ surprises me with dinner at a Thai restaurant near the strip club. When I see the wrought-iron bench outside, I’m skeptical. The exterior of the location reminds me of an antique store catering to little old ladies. Inside, it’s clean and rather modern despite the black-and-white hexagonal floor tiles and crown molding. But there’s a certain elegance with the Asian artifacts, the chrome chairs, and a marble bar along one side. The divine smells filling the air make up for the questionable location.

  JJ gives our drink order to the bartender, and then we follow the hostess. She sits us at a quiet, dimly lit table for two in an alcove. It only takes me a few minutes to figure out what I want—chicken and shrimp dumplings and the house special Pad Thai. JJ orders a half chicken dish with sautéed spinach and jasmine rice.

  The waitress returns with my drink—a passion fruit cocktail. “Thanks for bringing me here,” I say after she leaves. “It reminds me of home.”

  JJ’s eyes narrow. “I thought you’re Japanese?”

  “I am, but my mother loves Thai food. Our cook prepares it a lot.”

  Melodious laughter fills the space between us. “What else does my rich roommate have back home?”

  Thankfully, our food arrives, giving me time to contemplate my answer. I wait until the waitress departs before speaking. “I’m not rich.” Lifting my glass, I take a sip and relish the sweet concoction. “My family has money, but I don’t accept any of it.”

  “What do you mean you don’t accept it?”

  I reach for one of the dumplings. “Accepting money from my father comes with stipulations. As soon as I was able, I got a job.”

  “Is that when you began stripping?” JJ pushes the food around on his plate.

  “Yes. It paid well enough for me to move out when I turned sixteen.”

  JJ’s head rocks up. “How did you move out at that age? Were you emancipated?”

  “Something like that.” No way could I tell JJ that rules are different for supernaturals. All I had to do was coerce the right person, and I got whatever I wanted. Not one person in Falls Creek questioned why a teen wanted an apartment.

  Placing a forkful of chicken in his mouth, JJ asks, “You ready for tonight?”

  “I guess.” To be honest, I’m a little nervous. It’s been six years since I last danced for money. Stripping for men doesn’t really bother me. What comes after you leave the stage, however, can be unnerving. I used to get more than a few propositions after a set. A handful were innocuous—a lap dance or two. Most were risqué—offers of sex and roles in porno flicks to name a few. Back then, the owner of the Wild Stallion kept an eye out for me. The bear shifter knew I was underage and didn’t want anything to happen on his watch. Masquerading as a human changes things. Not necessarily for the good.

  “You’re not nervous, are you?” JJ asks.

  “No,” I say quickly. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be more than fine. Remember, I saw your moves. I suppose I’m gonna have to get used to watching other men ogle you.”

  JJ’s warm voice, like an embrace, goes straight to my core, tightening my jeans. I adjust my posture, wishing I could make a different type of adjustment. This is going to be a long night.

  Loud music and conversation hit us as soon as we step into the darkened club. Men dance on top of a bar and a stage. Lascivious patrons sit at tables with dancers giving lap dances. The air, ripe with sweaty flesh and hormones, turns my stomach. A few people smile and wave in our direction. JJ returns the gesture.

  He leans close to my ear. “C’mon. Let me introduce you to Tom. He’s in the back.”

  JJ grabs my hand. A body backs up into us, and I’m kind of glad for the connection with JJ. We sidestep another collision and enter a narrow hall. JJ stops in front of a door and knocks.

  “It’s open,” a male voice yells.

  JJ drops my hand before we walk into a shoddy office in need of a good cleaning. A man with a backward baseball cap on his head sits behind a desk piled high with papers and magazines. Two folding chairs, also covered in crap, are in front of it. A funky shag throw rug of indeterminate color tries to conceal the dingy floor tile. Something crunches beneath my shoes as we step farther into the room.

  “Hey, JJ. What’s up, my man?”

  The man’s voice sounds out of place, as if he’s either trying too hard or wants to appear street-smart. Or both. I hate it when humans do that.

  “This is my friend I told you about. Colton, meet Tom.”

  Tom gives me an elevator gaze landing on my crotch. Feeling suddenly naked, I wish there were a wall I could stand behind.

  “Good to meet cha, Colton.” A broad, cheesy smile surfaces on his face. “He’s hot. Good looking out, JJ. Knock that shit on the floor and take a seat.”

  I’m not feeling this place. The Wild Stallion was a clean club in all areas. This place is a pig sty. JJ glances over at me. I want to shake my head and walk out, but he’s trying to help. Lifting up a stack of papers, a roach runs out, and I drop the papers.
Standing might be safer.

  “Colton is here for amateur night,” JJ says.

  “Good, good. We gonna start in a minute. Take Colton back to meet the other dancers. They’ll get him a costume.” Tom winks at me. “After you dance, come see me.”

  It takes every ounce of strength not to bolt for the door. Instead, I offer, “Thanks for the opportunity.”

  Tom grins. “I’ll be watching.”

  A shudder carves down my spine like a necromancer walked into the room.

  Deep bass notes hit me as I wait backstage. The dancer before me is finishing up his act to a howling crowd. Someone taps me on the arm, and I whirl around.

  A tall, angular looking man stands next to me. “Follow me.”

  This is one time when being an incubus would have been helpful. I have to trust that nothing nefarious is about to happen as I follow the dark-skinned man to the back of the building and out a door. The crisp night air makes me want my jacket.

  “Your name’s Colt, right?” the man asks.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m not supposed to be helping you, but I know what an ass The Najex can be.”

  This must be one of Grandfather’s guardians, but they aren’t supposed to interfere. Shit! If he’s interfering, that means trouble. Not good.

  “What about my father?”

  “He’s in the club. Ashmedai sent me to watch over you. I got word through my network that The Najex is here. You need to leave.”

  Tendrils of terror curl in my stomach. I swallow hard. No way can I go on the stage. As soon as he sees me, he’ll know. Grandfather’s powers don’t affect Father. The real fear is not knowing what might happen to me as a human. My father won’t risk revealing ourselves in front of a crowd, but what will he do to me? I don’t want to wait around to find out.

  “Thank you, but I can’t go anywhere dressed like this.”

  The man shoves my clothes at me. “Use the restroom and change. I’ll keep him from coming back here.”

  Nodding, I run back inside and head to the restroom I saw earlier. Unfortunately, it’s filthier than Tom’s office. Maybe my father’s sudden appearance is saving me for once. As I change out of the police officer costume, I think about JJ sitting in the club. How do I explain my quick exit?

  If your father sees you go up on that stage, you won’t have to explain a thing to anyone ever again.

  I leave the costume behind as I step across the threshold. Opening the rear door, I look back one last time—already missing what might have been—before exiting into the night.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jeremiah

  Azaria opens the door, and I storm in, yelling like a raving lunatic. “He bailed on me! The fucker bailed on me!”

  “Shh! Lower your voice,” she admonishes and shuts the door. “I have company.”

  My heart ricochets in my chest as I swing around and notice her skimpy, short robe. Of course, she’s entertaining. Sex is a like a drug to an addict for Azaria. Every single night she gets high off whoever pleases her at the moment.

  Heading back to the door, I say, “Never mind. I’ll go.”

  “No.” She blocks my path. Concern dances in her eyes. “You’re not leaving until I find out what’s wrong. Give me a minute.”

  Azaria disappears down the hall. I cringe when I hear the man’s booming voice. He’s not happy with my sudden arrival.

  Please don’t be who I think it is.

  A door slams. Angry footsteps, like thunder in the heavens, pound the carpeted floor. “Fuck! Should have known it was you.”

  My head rocks up. Golden hair, blazing blue eyes, tanned skin—Ezekiel. Why did my best friend and my brother get together? He was a pain in my ass before we left home. No matter what I did, Ezekiel was there competing with me. Nice to know a few things haven’t changed.

  “Zeke, this doesn’t concern you,” I spit out.

  “According to you, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou. You’re infringing on my time. Why does Az put up with your shit?”

  Asshole. I haven’t been holy in a very long time, and Ezekiel never deserved the title.

  “Same reason I put up with you, Ezekiel,” Azaria announces as she enters the room. She reaches up and strokes his cheek. He kisses her open palm. “Who can resist gorgeous brothers? Come back tomorrow. Let me have a moment with Jeremiah.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he remarks and sweeps Azaria into his arms. His lips collide with hers in a passion-filled kiss. Always needing to prove himself. “Maybe I’ll come back tonight.”

  Azaria’s lips curl up as he strides out the door. The way she stares at the space he vacated turns my stomach. My best friend and my brother… It’s too much.

  “Please tell me that’s not serious?” I say.

  She rolls her eyes and walks past me. “Ezekiel isn’t as bad as you’d like me to believe. Why should it matter to you?”

  “He’s my brother, Az. You’re fucking my little brother,” I say and drop to the sofa.

  “Are you here to discuss my relationship with Ezekiel or the person who bailed on you?”

  Shrugging my shoulders, I drop my head in my hands. “Colton was supposed to dance at the club. Instead, he disappeared. Left me sitting there like a damned fool.”

  “Maybe he got scared?” Azaria sits beside me. “Not everyone is comfortable taking their clothes off in public.”

  “Don’t you think I realize that?” I side-glance at her. “But that’s not the issue. Colton said he’s done this before. He claimed he was good at it.”

  He is good at it.

  “Okay, okay. Before you hunt the man down, let’s think this through.” She leans forward, pushes the hair off her face, and places her elbows on her thighs. “Worst case scenario is something happened to him. Did you try calling Colton?”

  “I can’t. We never exchanged phone numbers,” I admit, mirroring her posture. A real friend would have done so by now.

  Azaria exhales. “Seriously, Jeremiah? You have no way to contact him? What if he’s hurt?”

  “What if he’s not?” My gaze swings back to hers. I’m too pissed to entertain the possibility. That’s a lie. The truth is I don’t want to consider it. If anything happens to that man, I’ll only have myself to blame.

  “Did you ever find out why he’s in town?”

  “Some shit with his father. The man sounds like a tyrant.”

  “What if Colton’s disappearance has to do with his dad?” Azaria rests her hand on my knee. “Go home, Jeremiah. If Colton comes back, talk to him. He may have a plausible explanation.”

  Maybe I’ll listen to it after I’ve beat the shit out of him.

  A haunting melody—a rendition of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played on a guitar—greets me when I open the apartment door. The street lights, bathing the room, surround Colton’s bent figure in front of the window. Deep sorrow mixes with overwhelming pain. It reaches out to my soul and crushes any residual anger I harbor. Pushing my feet forward, I close the distance and let the music envelop me. Colton’s playing is raw and so fucking emotional. The man has unmeasurable talent. He should do something with it.

  “Have you been here all this time?” I finally ask, my voice cracking.

  Colton stops strumming. “Not the entire time.”

  I go to turn on the lamp.

  “Please, don’t,” he mutters. “I’m trying to find peace in the shadows.”

  His voice is as troubled as the music he plays. I take a seat on the sofa. “Why do you need to find peace?”

  Colton returns to the guitar. “Peace is all about creating a balance between good and evil. Sometimes that balance gets disturbed. Chaos waits for us right around the corner. The only thing that prevents it from taking over is a calculated fight to restore order.”

  Ice shivers down my spine at his words—reminiscent of the ones I heard from the Prophet before I left home. Fear grips me and freezes my soul. How would Colton know that speech?

  “Wh
at are you talking about?”

  He glances up with his eyebrows knitted together. For a long, uncomfortable minute Colton watches me, studies me like he doesn’t remember me. Then, his face smooths out, and he speaks again. “Tonight… I couldn’t go out on the stage.”

  “You got scared?”

  “Not from dancing. I was actually looking forward to it.” He pauses again and gets lost in the eerie tune.

  “Colton?”