The Bad Boy's Dance (8 page)

             
Opening the car door, I lowered my feet to the gravel and shut the door soundlessly. The wind whipped my hair across my face, a warning to get my butt back to my car. Swallowing my unease and fear, I crept towards the warehouse.

              I pressed my ear against the door, but I couldn’t hear any noise. Both my hands had to be used to open the heavy door. I slipped into the small opening and let it thud shut. Immediately, I was assailed with even more terror. I was trapped in this godforsaken building.

             
Asher Grayson, you had better be seriously injured or I might just do the honors!

             
There was a metal staircase in front of me, and the only way was to go down it. It looked as thin as tinfoil, so I clutched the banister as I slowly descended, flinching at every creak.

              It ended in the base of a long, dark hallway. Noises- voices!- were coming from the end of it, where I could see it ballooned into a huge storing area. Laying my hand on the wall, I let it guide me along the pitch-black hall, muffling a screech when I felt something crawl between my fingers.

              When I reached the end of the hall- more like tunnel- I hesitated before stepping into the light. A clattering caught my attention, and I located Asher, standing across from a man, both surrounded by huge crates.

              “I need more time!” Asher growled. “This isn’t what we agreed on!”

              The man was shorter than Asher and had a bald patch, but there he was, making Asher get worked up like that. A sneer of derision crossed his features, but it was tinged with fear. Even Baldie knew not to antagonize Asher. “Listen Grayson, I’m the least of your worries. You have bigger sharks to tackle, so why don’t you just get me off your back and give me what I need?”

              Asher’s lip curled as he stepped closer to the man. In a flash, Baldie had whipped out a gun and had it level with Asher’s heart.

              And Asher didn’t even
blink.

              Me, being me- well, I screamed.

              Not my smartest move.

              Asher and Baldie’s heads whipped in my direction, and then that gun was pointed at
me.

              Asher’s jaw unhinged for a second before anger retook control of his expression. “Put the fucking gun down, Trevor, she’s with me.”

              Trevor maintained eye contact with me as he lowered the firearm, a warning that he wasn’t afraid to use it.

              Asher stalked over to me and grabbed my elbow, pulling me out of earshot from Bal-Trevor. I shrunk from his obvious rage. He released his grip and towered over me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I told you to go home!”

             
Don’t be a wimp Ivy. You’re not the one on trial here.

             
Mustering my courage, I straightened my spine. “I was worried,” I hissed.  “Did you really think I’d leave you in this craphole? What kind of person do you think I am?!”

              My curse had taken him by surprise, but he covered it up. His brows drew together. “Why would you be worried about me? You don’t even know me.”

              Glancing pointedly at the impatient Trevor behind him, I bit my lip. “That much is obvious. But it doesn’t matter how much I know you. Would you desert me in a place like this, alone at night, with no way to return home?”

              He scrutinized me for so long I worried he’d try to stuff me in one of the crates because I’d seen too much. Trevor cleared his throat, and Asher broke his stare. “Wait here,” he ordered.

              Returning to Trevor, I watched them whisper heatedly. Hmm. This place reminded me of the prison in the movie Face-Off with Nicholas Cage. It was shiny and long, but there was a stamp of fear and danger in it.

              My phone buzzed with another text- Mom, probably- but I ignored it. Didn’t want to give them the idea that I was calling the cops or something.

              But shouldn’t I? Here they were, in the middle of nowhere at night, and one of them had a gun. Could they be conducting a drug deal? Oh no. What if Asher was in the mafia? What if I’d unwittingly disrupted a mafia exchange?

              But there weren’t enough people here. In the books I’d read, the mafia leaders usually had tons of guards with them. If that was the case, then that begged the question- what in the name of Tinkerbell’s fairy dust was Asher doing?

              After another few minutes of waiting, Asher gestured for me to start walking down the tunnel. Haha, no. I wasn’t leaving this place unless his sullen butt was following me.

             
Go,
he mouthed. Behind him, Trevor sighed loudly. “It’s obvious she’s not gonna leave you behind, Grayson. This isn’t over. Take your girl home. I’ll be in touch.” He began walking backwards, and just before he disappeared into a side door, he winked at me.

             
Gross.

              Taking my hand, Asher dragged me down the tunnel again, knowing his way in the blackness. I, on the other hand, was fumbling like a blind wombat. That lovely effect was exacerbated by the feel of his fingers wrapped around mine. It was impossible
not
to respond to him. No matter how much I tried, he was a force to be reckoned with.

              I almost kissed the ground when we got outside. Oh beautiful sky! Heavenly earth! How I’ve missed you! Asher released my hand like it was on fire while I stretched my arms upwards, gulping lungful after lungful of the night air.

              “Are you high?” Asher asked as I continued acting like I was indeed high.

              I ignored him and flounced to my car, giving the hood a smooch. “Get in,” I told him curtly. He raised an eyebrow at my tone but complied nonetheless.

              The carefree atmosphere melted into tension. I wanted desperately to question to Asher, but I could sense his resistance. He wouldn’t tell me anything if I interrogated him. But what could I do? Whatever he was doing seemed like it was illegal.

              Chewing my bottom lip contemplatively, I didn’t notice him flicking the radio on until rock metal was blasting from my stereo. I swerved in surprise, making a driver going in the opposite direction shout curses at me.

              “Warn me next time!” I hollered at the smirking bastard.

              “Where’s the fun in that?”

              “You would risk me driving the both of us off a cliff for a good laugh at me?”

              “Don’t blame me for your lackluster driving skills,” Asher countered.

              “Oh please, if my driving skills were lackluster I would have squished you like a bug when you jumped in front f my car!” If only I hadn’t pressed the brakes so fast…don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t have hit him or anything. Just…given him a little love tap with my car.

              Parking in front of his mansion, I crossed my arms and waited for him to exit.

              When he didn’t move, I glanced over to see him staring at me speculatively. “Listen,” he started, but stopped. Was he nervous? That’d be a new one. “You can’t say anything to anyone about what you saw today.”

              “But aren’t you eighteen?” Stupidly, I thought the reason he was worried I’d tell anyone was because his parents would punish him.

              He rolled his eyes, but a small smile curled the edges of his lips. “Yes, but that’s irrelevant. You can’t tell anyone. Do you understand?”

              Pausing, I thought it over. “On a condition,” I asserted. Wouldn’t want to be a complete pushover, now would I?

              He ran a hand through his dark tangles warily. “What?”

              “You explain everything to me by Friday. After we turn in our project. Like it or not, we’re stuck together for the next few months, and the only way for us not to throttle each other is to be upfront. Capiche?”

              Considering, he moved his thumb nail along his full bottom lip. It was mesmerizing.

             
Snap out of it!

             
“You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll explain whatever I think you need to know for us to finish this project,” he implied. My brows drew together. He’d phrased that suspiciously, but it was something.

              Accepting his outstretched hand, I ignored the sparks jumping between our skin. “That means you can’t tell Dana or Caleb,” he checked, as if I’d missed that. Dang it, evading Dana’s interrogation was gonna be hell.

              “Got it. Now shoo, my Mom’s on the warpath!”

              Chuckling, he slid gracefully from my car. Before I could zip away though, he leaned into the window, and a breathtaking smile crossed his face.

              “And Ivy?”

              “Yes?”

              “My car’s not really in the shop.”

Chapter Eight

Don’t Make Me Pull a Red Foreman

Sunday morning, Paul was greeted by balloons and a weepy mother.

              “Paul, honey, I’ve missed you so much! Why don’t you visit more often? Are the kids nice to you in college? You’d better not be surviving on Top Ramen!” she blubbered. Paul was embarrassed as he consoled a teary Mom and he waved at us in turn.

              “Move over Amelia, give the other’s some time with the boy,” Dad said gruffly before pulling Paul into a man-hug, which basically consisted of slapping each other’s backs and muttering.

              I took my opening and embraced my big brother. “Imagine living with them,” I mumbled in his ear, and he muffled his laugh in my shoulder.

              Paul and Spencer’s interaction was downright comical. Spencer fell to Paul’s feet and pretended to kiss them until Paul yanked him up by the hair and lobbed a knee in his gut. The violent freaks thought that was the most hilarious thing that ever happened in the history of man.

              It worried me sometimes that I was related to them.

              “How’ve you been, son?” Dad asked as we migrated to the living room. I pulled my knees against my chest and beamed at my older brother, who winked at me.

              Paul was closer to me than Spencer. I loved them an equal amount, certainly, but Paul
got
me. Spencer was more of the fun, spirited Robello while Paul was the conservative, intellectual one. He’d been there to help me when I was going through the darkest phase of my life. He’d been my lifeline.

              “Great, Dad. My psychology professor put in a request for me as his TA because I aced his class.”

              Paul was studying to be a therapist. I really hoped that didn’t have anything to do with me.

              “You always were a keen fellow,” Spencer piped up. “Girls had to rip the books out of your way before they could get to you.”

              Did I mention that my older brothers were- for some incomprehensible reason- considered hot commodities in this town? Obviously they hadn’t seen Paul eating spaghetti on the couch with his fingers or Spencer’s ridiculous magic tricks.

              “Shut it ass-um, butt-face,” Paul corrected hurriedly under my Mom’s glare.

              My phone buzzed against my thigh. I had two texts, one from Dana and the other from an unknown number. Opening Dana’s first, I prepared for the 21
st
century version of the Spanish inquisition.

             
Dana:
What happened with Asher Grayson yesterday? I can’t believe you didn’t call me!

              Me:
It was late when I got in.

             
It took me a few minutes to realize that that was
not
the right thing to say.

             
Dana:
Hold your horses ace. You stayed late at his house?! It can’t take that long watching a movie!

             
I decided to torture her a little. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t drive her crazy every now and then?

             
Me:
Oh, we only watched one movie. We were…preoccupied the rest of the time.

             
My mind considered what Dana would visualize upon reading the message, and heat swept over me at the thought. Urgh. Asher would have a freaking field day if he knew he affected me this badly.

             
Dana:
You have ten seconds to explain before I pull a Red Foreman and bury my boot so far up your butt you won’t be able to sit right for a week.