CHAPTER FIVE
She’d cost him thousands
of dollars in demon bounty, given him a killer case of blue balls,
and freaked him the hell out with her psychotic episode, but Jace
still couldn’t take his eyes off her. His gaze kept sliding across
the room, watching the way her dress rode up around her thighs when
she bent over, imagining how those thighs would have felt wrapped
around his waist while he slid inside that hot little pussy of
hers, remembering the husky note in her voice when she’d told him
to fuck her.
He usually didn’t go
in for dirty talk from a woman, but he couldn’t deny how hot it
made him to hear naughty words coming out of Sam’s sweet little
mouth. For a few minutes it had made him want to be the type of man
who deserved a woman like her. And when she’d let him claim her
pussy as his own …
Damn it, it was
enough to give him a hard-on all over again, and keep him seated at
the bar long after he should have headed for home.
Crazy or not,
Samantha Quinn could become a bad habit. After all, the crazier the
woman, the more Jace craved her company. It was a side effect of
having an addictive personality, and one of his personal
downfalls.
But in this case, it
wasn’t himself he had to worry about. The last thing Sam needed was
a man like him around. She had enough challenges in her life. She
needed someone steady and dependable and … saner than she
was.
Jace knew he didn’t
fit the bill on any of those counts.
“So you didn’t
harvest the quills? Because of Sam?” Stephen asked under his
breath.
Sam was all the way
across the room, somehow managing to play pool with a couple of
regulars and their girlfriends, but it was clear her brother still
worried she might hear. His little sister had no idea that her
brother peddled anything other than alcohol, and Stephen preferred
to keep it that way. Stephen’s demon narcotics business brought in
thousands of dollars every week, money he’d once used to send Sam
to the best private schools in the city and pay for her two years
of business college.
“Partly,” Jace said
with a shrug he figured the other man could interpret for
himself.
Stephen knew Jace had
been well on his way to being a junkie at one point in time. There
were several demons that possessed body parts that could alter
human consciousness. The chemical emitted by an Inuago demon’s skin
when it sweated or the powder made from grinding a Hamma demon’s
claws could screw a man’s mind ten different ways, but Ju Du quills
had been Jace’s weakness.
At first he’d simply
craved the oblivion of drifting away on that poison cloud, but
eventually he’d become dependent. It had been harder and harder to
keep those bad memories at bay without the quills. He’d started to
lose control, all the rage inside of him looking for an outlet, any
outlet.
He’d ended up in
lockup for beating the shit out of people who didn’t deserve a
beating and was on his way to a prison just like every other Lu.
His father and two uncles had both served time before getting
paroled and fleeing the country. That was the reason Jace had lived
in China as a child: His mother had followed his good-for-nothing
father to a foreign country. And her death.
When the worldwide
earthquakes hit and the demons emerged from deep under the earth,
the whole of China had been particularly hard hit. But Shanxi—where
the Chinese had been living in caves for centuries and still did in
modern times—had been devastated.
Hundreds of people
were torn apart before they even had the chance to run. Scientists
theorized that the demons—most of which were now reluctant to
attack humans, especially in large numbers—had simply reacted
violently after being forced from their homes and thrust into a
world vastly different from the one they were accustomed to. They’d
smelled humanity and begun to feed, seeking out the largest
concentrations of human blood by scent and killing and destroying,
tearing down buildings as they went to get shelter from the sun and
gain the dark, close habitat they craved.
Knowing why the
demons had done what they’d done, however, didn’t make a goddamned
bit of difference to Jace. He doubted it made a difference to
anyone who had survived the Shanxi attacks and lived to tell
stories of watching the ones they loved be ripped to pieces before
their eyes.
“Give me a whiskey
shot. Some Dickel if you’ve got it.” Jace took a swig of his beer,
shoving thoughts of his mother to the back of his mind, where they
belonged. He could do that now … most of the time.
With the help of
Stephen—who had refused to sell to him and made sure every other
Southie dealer did the same—and the Italian side of his family,
Jace had gotten clean. It had been nearly five years since he’d
last pierced his skin with a Ju Du quill, but the temptation was
still there.
It had been even
worse in the past few months. Something sour smelling in the air
was making those cots down in the basement of Yang’s Curiosity Shop
look better than they had in years. He’d been dying to get wasted
and give in to the violence that pulsed beneath his skin. It was
that temptation—the driving need to get mindless and hostile—more
than Sam or any worries about getting caught trafficking in illegal
substances that had made him leave the quills exactly where they
were.
“That’s a lot of
money, man. A lot of money. I know you’ve got your reasons, but I
could have sold those in a few days. I know some people who have
been looking for Ju Du,” Stephen said, setting the whiskey shot
down and topping off Jace’s beer. Alcohol had never been a problem
for Jace. He could drink in moderation. In fact, drinking was one
of the few things he could do in moderation.
He certainly couldn’t
do women in moderation. If he let himself get in too deep with a
woman, he lost all perspective. It was one of the reasons he kept
most of his encounters to one-night stands. Getting attached was
dangerous. He’d learned that from experience. From the time his
parents were killed in the demon emergence in China to his days
outmaneuvering other demon hunters, his life had been one long
lesson in trusting infrequently and letting your guard down
never.
Even with seemingly
helpless blind girls. Maybe especially with them. It would be too
easy to let a woman like Sam in. That mix of vulnerability, sass,
and willingness to explore so fearlessly would have him hooked in
no time.
And if she was stupid
enough to stick around, he’d end up hurting her the way he always
hurt women. He’d left scars only once, but that was one time too
many. Besides, he’d broken more than one spirit. He couldn’t seem
to drop that last wall women always wanted him to drop, or figure
out how to respond when she got that look in her eyes that said she
wanted more than sex. Even the few times when he’d felt the urge
for more, he’d failed to deliver anything but disappointment and
pain. Something inside of him was broken; it was just the way he’d
always been.
Sam deserved better
than a broken person who wanted to smash through walls every time
he saw a woman cry … even if she had set off something inside of
him that few women had ever touched. She’d challenged him,
surprised him…. It was a unique experience.
“Jace? Did you hear
me?” Stephen asked, pulling Jace’s mind back where it should have
stayed—in reality. “You didn’t see anyone following Sam, did you?
Anyone other than the Ju Du?”
“No. Why?” The
anxiety in Stephen’s voice was disturbing. Why would he think
anyone would be following Sam? Had he gotten on the wrong side of
one of his less savory customers and feared the client would take
out his frustration on his sister?
For the hundredth
time, Jace wanted to tell Stephen to get the hell out of the demon
narcotics business, but he kept his mouth shut. Without Stephen,
he’d probably still be hooked on Ju Du quills. Or in prison. Or
dead. Stephen was one of the few dealers who would sell only to
recreational users, who refused to provide addicts with a fix and
even made phone calls to their families to try to help them get
clean.
His intervention had
saved Jace’s life, so he’d keep his mouth shut. For
now.
“Has someone been
threatening you? Or Sam? If so, I’ve got a couple connections in
metro that I can—”
“No, no, it’s nothing
like that. I just … You know I worry about her. Especially when she
goes out dressed like that.” Stephen cursed under his breath. “I’ve
asked her to throw that dress away a thousand times, but she won’t
listen, acts like she thinks I’m lying about the damn thing being
see-through on top.”
Jace hid a smile
behind his beer. If Stephen only knew that his kid sister knew
exactly what she was wearing and what
it did to the male population, he would probably lock her up in the
apartment above the bar and throw away the key.
Speaking of the
Quinns’ apartment …
“So, are you going to
make her move back in with you?” Jace asked, already planning to
avoid the Demon’s Breath Pub if that were the case. He needed to
get away from Sam until he forgot how soft her lips had felt
against his, or how hard she’d made him. He might not be a good
enough man to resist her when she was pressed against him in the
dark, but he could at least make sure he steered clear of
temptation.
“I can’t make her do anything. She’s stubborn, in case you
hadn’t noticed.”
Jace grunted,
thinking about how pissed Sam had been when he’d thrown her over
his shoulder. Normally he’d never have dared, but he hadn’t seen
that he had a choice. If he’d left her and someone had hurt her …
It was something he didn’t want to think about. “Oh, I noticed. She
told me I’d be sorry for hauling her back here. I think she was
close to making death threats by the time we reached Avenue
B.”
“Yeah, she’s a pain
in the ass,” Stephen said, a note of pride in his voice. “She
refuses to listen to common sense, but I’m trying. I’ve been trying
for months. No matter how smart she is, it’s not safe for her to be
on her own.”
“Especially on this
side of the barricade,” Jace agreed. “The demons can smell
weakness. They don’t go after people that often, but when they do,
it’s always someone old or young. Or with a
disability.”
“Exactly. But she’s
determined to stay in the neighborhood, even though I told her I’ve
got enough saved to get her a room in that place uptown. That
assisted-living place on Eighty-fourth with all the security is
supposed to be real nice.” Stephen grabbed clean glasses from the
washer beneath the bar and set them down with a little too much
force. “I swear, she’s just one step away from getting herself
killed. Tonight’s probably not the first time, you know. It was
just the first time she couldn’t keep me from finding out about
it.”
Sam had confessed to
wandering into the ruins and told Stephen that Jace had saved her
life, but she hadn’t sounded grateful, and she’d refused to listen
to a word of Stephen’s forthcoming lecture. She’d told them both to
go to hell—albeit in softer language—before stalking over to the
pool table. They were both clearly on her shit list.
Still, she hadn’t
said a word to Stephen about nearly fucking Jace against a wall, so
she must have had some gratitude left in her heart. If Stephen had
known his friend had been close to naked with his sister, they
certainly wouldn’t be all cozy at the bar. One or both of them
would probably be on their way to the hospital.
Jace was bigger and
stronger and a trained fighter, but Stephen had a legendary temper
that made people think twice before starting something in his place
of business. The dark-haired, dark-eyed man might be on the small
side, but he could seriously work a guy over when he was
pissed.
And nothing pissed
him off more than people messing with his sister.
“I even called DHS
the other day to see if there was anything legal I could do about
Sam’s living on her own.” He sighed, his frustration clear. “But
unless I can prove she’s a danger to herself or others or not in
her right mind, they said they couldn’t do shit. She’s twenty-five
years old.”
“If you could at
least get her to stay here tonight, I think it would be a good
call.” Jace didn’t want to rat Sam out, but her behavior had been
disturbing.
She’d not only nearly
gotten herself killed; she’d also had some sort of psychotic
episode. There was nothing normal or sane about begging a guy to
bang you one second and babbling on about blood and death the next.
Maybe it had something to do with her childhood, with the violence
she and her brother had suffered as kids before the state had
locked up their parents.
Or maybe she was just
crazy. Or maybe she was a serial killer in her spare time—damned if
he knew.
Whatever the cause of
her odd behavior, Jace couldn’t stomach the thought of Sam being
left alone tonight. She should be with her brother, so he could
watch over her and make sure she was holding it
together.
“She’d be better off
with you for at least one night. She was pretty shaken up
and—”
“Not shaken up
enough,” Stephen interrupted, slamming his fist down on the bar.
For a second, the anger in his eyes made Jace rethink his
assumption that Sam would be better off here. Stephen looked ready
to kill someone, and Jace could only guess that person was Sam.
“She’s gone. She’s fucking gone.”
Jace turned to scan
the bar. Stephen was right. Sometime in the ten minutes the men had
been talking, Sam had managed to sneak away.
“I can’t believe this
shit!” Stephen pounded the bar again, making the women seated a few
stools down flinch and scoot away. “I’m going to have to have her
committed. It’s the only way I’ll be able to keep her
safe.”
“Relax. I’ll go find
her.” Jace stood, the feeling that there was more to this than
brotherly concern prickling the hairs at the back of his
neck.
Stephen’s response to
finding Sam gone was too violent, even for a man who knew his
sister’s life had been threatened. It was almost like he knew Sam
was in danger, the kind of danger that came from something more
intelligent and methodical than the average demon. Something like
one of the thugs Stephen sold drugs to on a regular
basis.
Jace made a mental
note to feel out his contact in the Death Ministry, one of
Southie’s more violent gangs and one of Stephen’s biggest
suppliers, to see if anyone had something against Stephen Quinn. He
hated to think his friend would put himself or his sister in
danger, but it was better to be safe than stupid and
trusting.
Trust no one, even your friends.
The motto had kept
him alive more times than he could count, and now it might keep
Stephen and Sam alive, too. If Stephen had gotten in over his head,
Jace would help him find his way out. He owed the other man that
much.
“I’ll close down the
bar and go with you,” Stephen said, pulling at the ties on his
apron. “I need to know she’s safe.”
“No, man, it’s early.
You’re going to lose a lot of cash if you close up now.” Jace
shrugged his jacket on and, by habit, checked the location of all
his weapons, making sure guns and knives were within easy reach.
“This is what I do. Sam won’t be hard to find—she’s probably just
headed for home.”
“All right.” Stephen
didn’t seem thrilled with letting Jace handle the problem, but the
mention of losing money had hit home.
Even though Sam had
been independent since she was nineteen, and Stephen’s bar, with
its plethora of demon memorabilia covering every wall, was a
tourist attraction in itself and earning a tidy sum, Stephen seemed
desperate for more. He’d even taken a part-time job working for a
refurbishing company, doing carpentry and painting in the
afternoons before the bar opened.
Jace would have
suspected a gambling problem if he hadn’t known for a fact that
Stephen didn’t gamble. He also didn’t drink or use the drugs he
sold or sleep around. He ate red meat only a couple times a week
and hit the gym religiously. Stephen was
squeaky-clean.
So why was Jace
suddenly getting the feeling his friend had been up to something
rotten?
“I’ll have her back
here in an hour, maybe less,” Jace said, putting aside his
suspicions. For now. There would be time to get to the bottom of
what was going on with Stephen after he’d found Sam.