Toxic: A Dark Romance

The bar we pull up to an hour later is like a thousand others. It looks more like a shack than an actual place of business, but the dozen or so cars parked in the parking lot and the music blasting from the open windows says it isn’t going to close anytime soon. Alcohol is one of those things that will never go out of favor. There will always be someone steeped in misery and in need of something to drown their sorrows.

Before I open the truck door, Gracin puts a hand on my arm and says, “Wait for a second, we should talk before we go in.”

I flash him a wobbly smile. “I think we’ve talked enough for now.”

He shakes his head. “I mean about what we do when we get in there.”

Oh. That makes sense, so I nod and wait for Gracin to fill me in on the plan.

“If we’re lucky, none of Danny’s friends will recognize us.”

“And if we’re not?”NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

I should be terrified by the prospect, but I can’t deny the buzz of anticipation just beneath my skin. I don’t know if I’m excited about the idea of revenge, thrilled to be outside and doing something about what happened to me, or if I’m just high on the intensity that’s rolling off Gracin in waves. It doesn’t matter. I’m itching to get in there.

He doesn’t answer my question, but he doesn’t have to, the gun he stuffs in a holster underneath his shirt says enough. He hands me another, and I hide it at my waistband.

“Just listen to what I tell you to do, and we’ll be fine.” I nod again, and he continues. “They won’t know who I am here, so I’m going to join the card game, and you’re going to sit where I tell you and be quiet until I speak to you, okay?”

I make a zipper motion over my lips. “Whatever you say.”

He considers me for a second. “Why can’t you be like this all the time?”

“What fun would that be?” I say and then open my door and hop out.

“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” he says as we walk to the front door.

The sign over the porch says simply, Ray’s, and the interior is as unassuming as the exterior. Since the only light in the place is coming from the backsplash behind the counter and a few ancient-looking fixtures above that must be on a dimmer, the inside is as dark as the inside of a cave. The smell isn’t much better. Dirt, dust, man, and sweat assault my nose, making me have to work hard to keep from wrinkling it in revulsion. Peanut shells crunch underfoot as we cross the room to the bar where two lone men sit sipping their respective drinks. Music plays on low from an old-fashioned jukebox tucked in the corner.

A woman in a skimpy tank top with skin in desperate need of moisturizer sidles up to us and plops down a rag. “What can I getcha?” she asks around the cigarette clutched between her lips.

“Beer, whatever you have on tap, for me,” Gracin replies.

“The same for me,” I say, pleased to find my voice is steady despite my nerves.

Gracin slides a couple crumpled dollar bills across the counter as she slams two chilled glasses down in front of us. I take a sip to keep my hands busy and twist in my swiveling chair to study the rest of the bar. Gracin keeps his back to a corner as he does the same.

There aren’t many patrons this time of day, and those who are here seem to be solely focused on drinking as much alcohol as possible. I don’t see anyone who looks like they would be involved with Danny, but what do I know?

Gracin leans forward and grabs ahold of my chair. It screeches against the scuffed tile floor as he pulls it over to him, so close that I can feel the heat coming from him.

I lift my brow in question, and he leans down and says, “Play along,” in my ear, causing me to shiver then his lips brush against my skin.

His arm goes to the back of my chair, and he props one foot up on the rung underneath. I take a few deep swallows from my beer before leaning against him and glancing up. I’m so close to him that I can see his eyes have flecks of gold in them. His eyes find mine, and before I can react, he leans down to kiss me.

This time, I don’t fight him. I don’t know if it’s the beer, though I only had a few sips, the conversation, or his closeness. The only thing I do know is it isn’t a game. Every touch and taste is one hundred percent real.

His hand comes to my hair as he deepens the kiss and angles my head up to take everything he has to give me. My hands come up to grip his shirt, and I whimper against his mouth.

“They just walked in,” he says against my lips. “Don’t look, and laugh when I tell you to.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond because his fingers tighten in my hair the same way they did that night in my hallway. I’m so lost in the lust of the memory that I almost miss him whisper, “Now,” before he pulls away.

Feeling a little drugged, I laugh over the rim of my beer and down the rest to cool the heat rising within me. I wave at the bartender and use the opportunity to look around.

It would be hard not to spot them right away as loud as they’re being. There are three of them who saunter across the bar to the pool tables. They’re dressed way too nice to be regular patrons, but the way the others’ eyes slither over them like they aren’t even there makes me think they’ve been here before and they’re trouble.

Gracin toys with my hair idly as he covertly watches the three of them rack the balls and cue up a table. If I weren’t as tuned into him as I am, I’d never suspect he isn’t focused on me. I remember getting the same hyper-focused impression from him when I realized he wasn’t after me just to get some ass. It’s like the cogs in his brain are turning at triple speed.

I take another gulp of beer because he may be focused on the men across the bar, but I’m not. Ever since I got another taste of him, my body’s been clamoring for more, and all I can think about is getting another. He’s situated us so my chair is positioned in the V of his legs. One of his hands rests casually on the bar, and the other is on the back of my chair, twisting around the ends of my hair.

“I love this,” he says as he runs his fingers through the length of it.

“Do you?” I ask dryly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Hmm. The first time I saw you with it wrapped up I wanted to take it out and see it all around you. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Why?” My voice sounds hoarse to my ears.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “I’m not sure. Maybe because you seemed so uptight. I wanted to loosen you up a bit.”

“You have a funny way of doing that.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

I consider my current state of affairs. My limbs are loose due to my second mug of beer, and my hair is spread out over my shoulders. Even after all that’s happened, I’m out of Michigan and free, so to speak, of the relationship that was slowly killing me.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” I say, and I realize it’s true.

“I don’t think the world is any worse off having lost him,” Gracin says, his hand coming to rest on my neck underneath my hair.

“Is that why you say you aren’t sorry for what happened?”

“Partially,” he replies. I wish he would look at me. “But mostly because I can’t be sorry that you’re alive. I never planned on being a father. I’m not sure I’d make a good one,” he says ruefully. “But I do know I don’t know what would happen to me if you hadn’t made it that day.”

My throat closes, and I take another sip of beer to clear the emotion weighing there. Maybe the drunks at the counter are onto something. I feel better than I have in a long, long time. Or maybe it’s the comforting feeling of Gracin’s hands now whispering along my back.

“It’s time,” he says and gets to his feet. He holds out a hand for me, and I take it without hesitation.

The three men are finishing their game of pool when Gracin pulls up beside them. I don’t have to act drunk because after two beers on a semi-empty stomach and having a low alcohol tolerance to boot, I’m buzzed.

“’Sup?” one of the men says. His brows are pinched and wary as he crosses his arms over his chest, his discomfort with Gracin’s commanding appearance apparent.

Gracin jerks his chin. “What’s the buy-in for tonight’s game?” He starts digging in his pockets.

The one who must be the little ringleader says, “Private game, sorry.”

The first one’s eyes bulge out of his head when Gracin extracts a rather large wad of money from his pocket.

“You’re sure?” he asks with a cheeky grin at me. “My lady and I are looking to have some fun tonight. She’s never been to a poker game before.”

The two guys look to their leader, who favors Danny enough in the color of his skin and bone structure that it makes me think they are distantly related. This one has about thirty pounds on Danny and a rounder face, but the eyes are the same. I’d never forget those eyes.

Gracin wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses his lips to my hair to whisper, “Stay calm, little mouse. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

I could end it here. Reach for Gracin’s gun and put bullets in the three of them. Killing Danny’s relative would send a hell of a message, and I like to think I’m getting pretty good at being just as ruthless as the man beside me. But sending a message like that may cause Danny and Sal to go further to ground, so I relax and send him a sunny smile.

Breaking from his grasp, I brace my hands on the pool table to accentuate my cleavage and bat my eyes at them.

“So, what’s it gonna be, guys? Are we gonna have some fun tonight or what?”