Darken (Siege #1) Page 3

  “Wrong fridge. This is for kitchen supplies only.” She led him to the smaller walk-in fridge in the back across from the dry liquor storage.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep food in the kitchen?”

  “Different budget, different inventory.” She opened the heavy door.

  Boxes of beer, wine, and clear liquor were stacked along the sides nearly to the ceiling, and she moved past them to pick up a small one full of garnish from the wire shelf at the back of the fridge. She twisted around to find Gavin only a foot away. He snagged the box from her and turned toward the exit. She followed behind and almost ran into him when he abruptly stopped.

  “Where’s the handle?” he asked.

  “What handle?”

  “For the door.”

  “It’s the latch on the side. Just push.” She poked his back to prod him along, but he didn’t move forward. “Push it harder.”

  He twisted to glare at her. “I did. It’s not opening.”

  To prove his point, he put the box on top of a shelf beside him and leaned his entire body against the door.

  “Shit!” Cora squeezed past him, telling herself she didn’t really feel the brush of his arm against her breast. She told herself she was only focused on the door and not on how the tight space left little room to do anything about the way her rear snuggled into his body.

  Cora shoved at the door frantically, and when it didn’t budge the entire room seemed to close in on her, sucking out the air as it shrunk. Her heart thudded loudly, and she pressed her back against the door, gasping for air.

  “You’re claustrophobic?” Gavin asked as she rubbed a hand over her chest.

  “No.” Or she hadn’t been until a few months ago. Shutting her eyes, she calmed her breathing. It would be fine. They were in the liquor fridge of a bar. Someone would be coming in here before they froze to death. She opened her eyes again and found Gavin only inches away, watching her with a strange expression.

  Her breath puffed out in a white cloud of condensation. She should have been cold, yet the heat radiating from him left her deliciously warm and wanting to move closer. Her tongue peeked out to slide over her lower lip.

  Lusting after Gavin was nothing new. It started when she was sixteen, though now her thoughts were much more vivid. For years, she suffered the guilt of loving her best friend’s boyfriend, yet that day, she couldn’t bring herself to be the martyr anymore. Lela was gone, and Cora accepted it even if Gavin didn’t.

  She heaved a sigh, and the movement caused her nipples, tightened by the cold and desire, to scrape along his chest. With any other man, she would have retreated, but this was Gavin, and he intoxicated her.

  Her hand lifted to rest on the side of his abs, and he stiffened under the contact. For a fraction of a second, she hesitated, then before she could have a second thought, his lips converged on hers.

  Fire tore through her, a burning that started deep in her belly. Her lips parted, and his tongue thrust in, tempting hers into a delicious dance and filling her with the spicy flavor of him.

  Finally. Finally.

  What the hell was he doing?

  The question came to Gavin as a soft moan escaped Cora. He ran his hands over her hips to cup her ass, and the question disappeared as his dick took over the thinking process.

  Through her well-worn jeans, he stroked her lush curves, and his fingers dug into the flesh, squeezing, testing how much she was willing to take. Cora rose on her tip-toes, her hands winding around the back of his neck. The motion eliminated any space separating them. It was all he needed to know.

  He gave a deep growl and pressed her up against the door. Her legs shifted open and he slid between them. Even with layers of clothing they wore, he could feel the warmth of her pussy. His dick hardened and he rocked against her.

  She pulled her head back and nipped at his lip, catching it between her teeth and tugging until he groaned and took her mouth again.

  Then she was ripped away, falling back into Keeley, who possessed the unfortunate luck of going to get a case of beer. The two of them stumbled backward until the wall opposite the fridge halted their fall.

  Both women’s eyes were huge. While Keeley’s were in shock and humor as she realized what she’d interrupted, Cora’s held mortification.

  He quickly grabbed the box of garnish and, holding it low enough to hide the evidence of his encounter with Cora, went back out to the main room.

  What the fuck had he been thinking?

  He snatched up a celery stalk and slammed it onto the cutting board. With the butcher knife, he hacked at the stalk.

  Making out with Cora topped his stupidest shit ever done list. Cora, for Christ’s sake.

  He grabbed another piece. Whack!

  Fuck, she’d tasted good, sweet and smooth like a chocolate-dipped strawberry. And her ass. Damn.

  Whack!

  He stared down at the mangled vegetable in front of him. Cora was messing with his mind in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He heaved a sigh. He didn’t need any complications in his life, and that’s what Cora was, a tiny, sexy, explosive ball of complications.

  Throwing the mess he’d made into the garbage, he started over, making sure he actually focused on his work. It had been a couple years since he helped his brothers with the pub, but it wasn’t so complicated he needed step-by-step instructions from Cora.

  Not that he would have gone to her for anything. After what happened in the fridge, he planned to keep as much distance as possible between them. She seemed to have the same plan, because other than throwing drink orders and the occasional reminder at him, she avoided him the rest of the day.

  Lunch hour and early afternoon were quiet at the bar, though Cora and Keeley’s hands were full with food orders. He used the time to familiarize himself with his area, tidying up some of the chaos his brother Josh left in the wake of his evening shifts.

  A bellowing laugh caught his attention, and he spotted the two women chatting with a group of men seated in the far corner. He recognized Noah’s friend Merrick and figured it was the group from TanTech.

  He couldn’t hear the conversation, but even at his distance, he could easily see the difference in how the girls approached the customers.

  Keeley waitressed like she did everything—she was loud and friendly with an untamable sauciness. Cora, on the other hand, managed to give off the sweet and innocent vibe like she was entirely unaware of the dirty thoughts no doubt running through those guys' heads.

  The sweetness had always been Cora’s defining characteristic and one of the reasons she and Lela had been best friends. Right up until she killed Lela. And if he’d had any doubt about how little innocence she possessed, their little episode earlier dispelled it.

  The glass he held in his hand exploded from the pressure of his grip, raining shards onto the floor.

  “Shit,” he muttered and tossed what was left of the glass in the trash. He turned on the faucet in the small sink and placed his hand under the running water to remove any trace of glass, then grabbed the small broom from under the counter to sweep up the mess.

  “What happened?” Logan asked, appearing on the other side of the bar.

  “Nothing, just a broken glass,” Gavin brushed the incident off.

  “You need to get control.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look like shit, and you know damn well that leaves you open to—” Logan cut himself off as a customer approached. “Clean up the mess and get yourself in control.”

  Gavin turned away from his brother and wiped down the counter. With happy hour beginning, business picked up, humming with activity. By the end of his shift, customers lined the length of his counter.

  Scanning the group of four ladies in front of him, he flashed his best cocky smile. The giggles he received in exchange were almost as satisfying as the tip he anticipated.

  “What can I get you, ladies?”

  “What’s the best drink you make?” asked the t
all redhead.

  He contained his snort of contempt at the lame question. He wasn’t a world-class bartender, but as long as you followed a recipe it was hard to mess most drinks up. On the other hand, he wasn’t about to break out a manual, either.

  His eyes narrowed as he took in the polished appearance Red had attempted with her make-up and the fake-diamond tennis bracelet. Her desire to be seen as sophisticated was a bit too obvious, especially since she barely looked legal.

  “Nothing beats my crantini.”

  “Perfect,” she said.

  “Crantinis all around?” He scanned the others as he snagged his martini shaker.

  The other girls looked at each other and then back at him.

  “Beer,” they said in chorus and laughed as Red rolled her eyes.

  He laughed. “My kind of ladies.”

  “Fine. I’ll drink the vile stuff,” Red said and held up a long manicured finger, pointing at her friends. “But one of you is responsible for getting me home.”

  He was pouring the last pint when he sensed someone behind him. From the smell of vanilla, he figured it was Cora.

  “No overtime,” she said.

  He topped off the beer, letting the foam settle into the perfect head before sliding it across the counter to Red. After he added the order to their tab, he turned to Cora.

  “I’m waiting on Josh,” he explained.

  “He’s in the back, and that’s where he’ll stay if you don’t go and get him.”

  “Thought I wasn’t supposed to leave the bar unattended.”

  “That’s why I stay here while you go get him.”

  Cora moved around him, invading his domain and started rearranging everything he’d organized. She picked up a rack of glasses and moved them into the far corner.

  “Why don’t you grab him?” He used his foot to maneuver the rack back to where he’d had it, enjoying the scowl the action brought to her face.

  “Your brother’s lazy and he’ll stall as long as possible if he knows you’re out here.”

  He felt guilty he didn’t defend Josh, but honestly, his younger brother was lazy. Not that Josh wasn’t a hard worker, it was more like his easy-going attitude empowered him to ride the waves of others’ hard work. Then again, what did Gavin know? Hell, Josh had held this job longer than Gavin ever held any.

  “I can tell him you’re waiting,” she said when he didn’t respond. “But chances are he’ll let himself be distracted once I can’t see him anymore.”

  “Fine. Stop messing with my space,” he grumbled.

  “Keep it tidy and I will. How you guys even function behind here amazes me.” She shoved the rack of glasses back to where she’d moved it. “You keep the racks stacked here, so anyone back here doesn’t trip over them.”

  She had a point, but having the glasses right next to him was easier. Rather than admit she was right, or to argue in vain, he trudged off to find his brother.

  In the kitchen, he found Josh exactly where he expected—leaning against the wall, stuffing his face with peanuts.

  “You’re up,” Gavin said.

  Josh groaned, raking a hair over his short black hair. “Is Cora out there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn. She’s gonna rake me over.” Despite his words, he took another moment to swipe a handful of peanuts and stuff them in his pockets.

  Keeley sauntered through the door and stopped to stare at Josh.

  “What?” he asked her.

  “Cora.”

  He groaned again but went out to his station. As he exited, she flicked her wrist and made a whipping noise. When he gave her the finger behind his back, she laughed and repeated the noise.

  “That girl has your brother trained like a lap dog. I swear he’s got a thing for her.” She must have caught Gavin’s shocked expression, because she asked, “What? Didn’t expect some brotherly competition?”

  “Competition? For what?”

  “Uh, the peanuts. Cora. Who else?”

  “Not interested,” he snapped. “And she’s not someone I’d ever let my brother stoop to dating, either.”

  “Whoa,” Keeley pulled back in surprise, shock contorting her normally beautiful features. “Chill. Cora’s my friend, and I suggest if you have a problem with her you keep it to yourself, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

  “No problem,” he said through gritted teeth, grateful the natural noises of the kitchen kept Mateo from overhearing their exchange. The last thing he needed was complaints to Noah on his first day. Even though his brothers would fight to the death for him, there was no way they’d let him give Cora crap at work.

  “Good.” Keeley smiled as if he’d never even opened his mouth. “Now, we need to talk about your service technique.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “You need to do less smiling, less flirting. We want the ladies to be at the tables, not the bar.”

  “Drinks are drinks, right?”

  She reached up and patted his cheek. “Sweetie, they won’t tip me if you’re the one hooking them up with drinks. So, stuff the stud routine and send them my way.”

  “What do I get in exchange?”

  “Standard fifteen percent cut. Unless I hear you talking smack about Cora again. Then it’ll be my foot up your ass.”

  She blew him a kiss and sauntered off to the change room. It would have been funny and maybe a bit sexy, except Cora stood directly behind the spot Keeley had just been. There was no way she missed Keeley’s warning.

  He waited for her to lash out, but she didn’t. He untied the waist apron and tossed it in the laundry basket in the corner. Her eyes followed him, and his nerves got the better of him.

  “Problem?” He let his eyes narrow.

  Her lips thinned, though their natural fullness failed to give her the stern face he was sure she was going for.

  “No,” she said after a long pause then followed Keeley’s path.

  As much as he wanted to change, he wasn’t going to risk being in a cramped space with Cora again.

  Chapter Three

  THE MAN SITS IN his car, flexing his leather-clad fingers around the steering wheel, the only outward sign of his tension. He watches Gavin step out from the bar, the door drifting closed behind him.

  In the rear-view mirror, the man’seyes hazel eyes flash with concentration. Cora tries to see more, but she is trapped within the man’s gaze, seeing what he sees. And he is intent on his purpose.

  Gavin rolls out of the parking lot in his Jeep. The man waits until the Jeep reaches the light a block down the road then follows, keeping a good distance between them all the way to the apartment complex. Then he watches again. This time, his fingers smooth along the barrel of his gun.

  He raises it and finds Gavin in his sights.

  Cora’s eyes fluttered, reluctant to face the midmorning light streaming in through the blinds. She inhaled deeply, her stomach churning as she reached for the bottle of water on her nightstand and took a long sip.

  Sleep had been an absent friend in the months since the accident. It started with nightmares about drowning; then a year ago, the visions started.

  At first, she thought she was suffering some kind of hysteria, a kind of post-traumatic stress. She’d wake in the middle of the night, shaking with adrenaline, then be thrown into a vision of Gavin.

  She brushed them off as semi-conscious dreams for the first few weeks. Sometimes, they bordered on fantasies, other times on nightmares. Then she discovered some of the things she saw actually happened.

  Once she started thinking of them as visions rather than hallucinations, she searched for some sort of order. There wasn’t any. She saw things from the past, others from the future. She accepted them for what they were—a glimpse into his life.

  When the man first entered the visions, he’d seemed innocent enough. A stranger who caught a glimpse of Gavin at the store or outside of the bar. But as the visions came more frequent, his presence became something else; he
became the sole set of eyes to view the events. That night’s vision was nothing new.

  Someone out there was trying to kill Gavin.

  Telling him had been her first instinct until she realized how crazy it sounded. Up until a year ago, Cora never believed in psychic visions, but there was no other way to describe them. Yet, even though she believed in them didn’t mean she expected anyone else to.

  Moving back to Thompson Creek was the only way she could stop what would happen.

  She dragged herself from bed and padded across the cold hardwood floor to her dresser. She jotted down a few notes about what she saw in a journal filled with other details. Not that she had much to go on. The location and time of the hit differed each time as if the man hadn’t yet decided. As for identifying him … Well, he was too nondescript. He looked like so many other older, white men. With hazel eyes. That was new. After work, she’d take the time to figure out how this vision fit in with the others.

  Waitressing at Porter’s Pub wasn’t the most intellectually stimulating job, and it didn’t utilize her degree in art history in the least, but it was fast paced even in the afternoon and she loved the people she worked with.

  Although, by the end of Cora’s shift that day, Keeley was driving her nuts.

  “God, he’s so yummy. I’d totally go for him if he weren’t such a manwhore,” Keeley said.

  Cora glanced over at her friend who pretended to wipe down tables while drooling over Gavin. It was a habit Keeley picked up when Gavin started working at the club three weeks before.

  She admitted he was yummy. His biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt as he carried and she glimpsed the tattoo that snaked over his shoulder and across his back peeking out. He reached up to restock the bottles on the top display case, pulling his shirt up and revealing his abs and her body clenched at the memory of how hard they were.

  “He’s not a manwhore. He’s just very … social,” she said, defending him.

  Keeley snorted, throwing her a disbelieving look. “Have you not seen him in action? Girl, he hooks up with a different piece of ass every week. Well, except Hailey. She’s about the closest he’s got to a girlfriend since ever.”