Ruthless Salvation

30

Present

“YOU TOOK HIM TO PERILLUS? THAT’S SOME SERIOUS PULP FICTION s**t. He won’t be able to sit for a week.” Oran’s tone was more contemplative than judgmental. That was his MO lately. The energy he exuded had simmered to an almost eerie calm.

“Well deserved, I’d say.”

“Mmm,” he hummed his agreement. “She doing okay?”

My jaw clenched involuntarily. “I assume so.” Stormy hadn’t contacted me, and I’d forced myself to give her space, but f**k if it wasn’t driving me crazy. I hated not knowing. “She’s back at work tonight. Should be downstairs soon if she’s not already.” That was the sole reason I’d shown up early. So early, I’d gone up to my office to kill time, where Oran had found me.

“Good, I’d like to talk to her about Darina. That’s why I stopped by. I figured I’d chat with anyone who might have been friendly with her.”

Tension coalesced in my muscles. I was such a fuckin’ nutjob where Stormy was concerned that I didn’t even like the thought of my cousin talking to her. He might have set aside his Prince Charming act for the moment, but I knew how women responded to him.

“Yeah, I suppose we might as well go down and get that out of the way.” I followed him out of the office, itching to see her.

I’d been hiding in my office Halloween night, convincing myself that it was best to let Stormy go, but after everything that had happened—after the things she’d said and how she’d looked at me—that ship left port and was long beyond the horizon.

Storm was going to be mine. End of discussion.

Oran talked to the bartender briefly. She and Darina hadn’t spent much time together, so she had little to offer. Jolly was at the bar and had an emergency contact number for Darina, but that was it. Two other girls said that despite being friends at work, the missing woman hadn’t told them much of anything about herself. By the time we finally got around to Stormy, the Friday evening rush had picked up.

“I know you only have a minute, but I wanted to ask you about Darina,” Oran said, speaking up over the music.

“Of course!” Stormy said brightly. “I hate that she’s still missing. You think she could have left on purpose?”

Oran and I exchanged a hard look. “No. Unfortunately, we have information that something terrible may have happened to her. She managed to cross paths with someone…” He cleared his throat. “Well, heartless doesn’t begin to describe them.”

Right before my eyes, Storm’s peaches and cream skin faded to a sickly white. “Hey, man. No need to upset her.”

Oran’s lips thinned. “I’m going to do what I can, but anything you might remember would be helpful.”

“Definitely.” Her brows knitted together. “Let me see … We didn’t exactly hang out, but I happened to run into her twice at the laundromat I use.”

“You live down by 21st Street?”

“What?” Storm angled her head in confusion. “No. I’m right here just a couple of blocks from the club on 36th.”

Oran’s stare intensified. “She give you the impression she lived nearby?”

“Yeah, she lived somewhere right by me, but I didn’t ask which building. We talked about how she used a nail salon one block over that I’d wanted to check out.” Storm paused and glanced briefly at me. “Was her address not on her employment application?”

Oran’s lips thinned. “The address she gave wasn’t valid. Is there anything else you can remember from your interactions with her that would give me any info about her at all?”

“Not off the top of my head, but I’ll give it some thought. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, this is all very helpful.” Oran placed a hand on Storm’s shoulder. “Could you take me by the laundromat and nail salon to show me exactly where you were? I’m happy to give you a ride so it won’t be a pain.”

“Absolutely. Anything I can do to help. I’m off tomorrow if that works.”

“No, she’s working,” I blurted, sounding like I’d just emerged from the Cro-Magnon Era. I couldn’t help it. I’d already envisioned chopping off Oran’s fingers for touching her.

Storm stared at me with wide eyes. “It’s my day off.”

“Not anymore. We changed the schedule, remember?” I tried to sound nonchalant but knew it came off a little churlish.

Oran shot me a raised brow in his gray suit with perfectly styled hair and a face that wasn’t covered in faded bruises from a fight.

Yeah, asshole. Stay in your lane.

“Is there a day that works better for you?” Oran asked me rather condescendingly.

“Sunday. We’ll meet you wherever it is you need to go.”

“Whatever, man,” he said under his breath. “Storm, I appreciate all your help. We’ll get together on Sunday.” He cut a glare in my direction before excusing himself.

I grimaced as I pushed off in the opposite direction, hoping to lick my wounds in the privacy of the supply closet, except Storm didn’t get that memo. The swoosh of her hurried steps chased me.

“What the heck was that all about?” Her voice wasn’t as accusatory as it could have been, but I still felt defensive.

I pretended to scan the contents of a shelf. “He told you. He’s looking for Darina.”

“Torin Byrne, you know what I mean.” She shut the door behind her and tried to look stern. “Why did you freak out about me showing Oran the places Darina had been?”

“I think freak out is a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you?” Lie. Deflect. Dismiss. s**t, was I gaslighting her?

“You forget you’re talking to a Southern girl who knows all about being dramatic. Tor, I told you I don’t want to feel threatened, and when you get all scary possessive, guess what?” f**k, she was hot when riled.

My eyelids lowered like a well-fed cat when I looked at my avenging angel. “You’re right.” I walked toward her until her back was up against the door. “I was feeling possessive. I know how appealing Oran can be. Women have always lined up for a chance with him. Is it so shocking that you might want the same?” I trailed my hand from her chin along her jaw and down the column of her neck, thrilled when her breathing grew shallow and lips parted.

“I’m only interested in helping him find Darina.” Her voice dropped an octave, spurring me on.

“That’s how his type lures you in. The well-dressed gentleman with good intentions. You’ll never. See it. Coming.” My hand continued down toward the outside curve of her breast. Her back arched, eyes dilating.

“What you don’t realize,” she said breathlessly, “is that I’ve had polished and sophisticated.”

“And?”

“It’s just a facade. I’d rather have honesty any day of the week.”

I placed my palm over her ribs and trailed my hand down to her waist.

“And what if honest turns out to be a little f****d up?”