Fated Hearts (Echoes of Darkness Prequel)

12

Ava

A whole week after starting at the Shabby Shotglass flies by without a hitch, and I am beginning to like it here. Moving by yourself across the country and starting a new life can be equal parts terrifying and exciting. I was nervous about being alone and meeting new people, but I enjoy working with Tony and Emily, and I think we can become good friends. Tony has already sort of adopted me, and he has such a sparkly personality that simply being in his presence is a joy.

“Ugh, I’m so happy we only have half an hour left of our shift,” Tony says as he joins me at the bar, where I’m standing next to the till, printing the receipt for a table that’s about to leave. “I have a hot date after this, if you know what I mean.” He waggles his eyebrows as a shit-eating grin takes over his face.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.

He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of an attractive man with russet hair and hazel eyes.

I fan myself and smile cheekily at him. “Wow. He’s hot.”

“He also has a monster dick,” he whispers and smirks.

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “You lucky bitch.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, buttercup. But yeah, I’m the luckiest bitch alive.”

We both start giggling when Emily comes over from the other side of the bar and begins cleaning the sink and bar top since all her customers already left. “What are you two gossiping about?” She cranes her neck so she can look at the phone.

Tony turns the screen toward her with a smug look on his face. “About the hunk of a man I started dating. He’s a doctor. Well, actually, he’s going to become a doctor. He’s a resident. He finishes his shift a little earlier than we do, so he’s going to wait for me.”

“Holy smoke show! It should be illegal for anyone to look that good in scrubs,” Emily observes. “I once dated a gynecologist. Man, she really knew what she was doing. I swear she had magic fingers.” She sighs and purses her full lips. “Too bad she was married, and I had no idea.”

Both Tony and I grimace at her words.

“Ouch,” Tony says, resting his elbows on the bar.

“We were just having fun, but it still sucked when I found out.”

“I sometimes wish I was attracted to women as well. I swear some men don’t even know what a clit is.” William the Turd sure didn’t.

Emily arches an eyebrow, a salacious smile taking over her face. “Oh, some of them know. You just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” I mutter and glance at Tony. “You can go if you want; I’ll close up tonight. It’s my turn anyway.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip. But he’s already brimming with excitement and shuffling from foot to foot.

“Yup. There are only two tables left. Plus, Marnie’s not here, and I don’t think she cares anyway.”

He jumps up and down and throws his arms around my neck. “You’re the best, buttercup! I promise I’ll be thinking of you when I have the most earth-shattering orgasm ever.”

“Please don’t.” I laugh at his antics but cringe at the mental image because why the hell did he have to say something like that?

He disentangles from me and practically skips to the staff room as I take the check to the table of girls who are so hammered they can barely stand. After they pay, I make sure none of them intend to drive and then order a cab to take them home.

Tony comes out of the bathroom hallway near the pool tables, all ready to leave. His light gray jacket creates a stark contrast with the deep hue of his umber skin. “I’ll see you guys on Wednesday.” He blows us kisses and practically springs out the door.

Forty minutes later, I’m all alone, putting the chairs up so I can start sweeping the floor. As has been happening often lately, a shiver passes down my spine like I’m being watched again, so I look back toward the windows near the entrance but don’t see anyone. Goddammit, Ava, stop being so paranoid! I roll my eyes at how stupid I’m being.

I finish sweeping the floor, and all I have left to do is take the trash outside, mop, and then I can finally go home. Lifting the trash bags that are heavier than they look, I stride to the back door of the bathroom hallway. As I exit the bar on the dingy alley where the dumpster is, my shoe sticks to something slimy on the asphalt, making me shudder. Ew . I try not to look at what I stepped into because when I took the trash out last week, I almost broke my neck stepping on a used condom, and I am still pretty scarred by that experience.

Please don’t be a condom. Please don’t be a condom. Please don’t be a condom.

I decide not to look because I don’t want to waste a minute longer under the flickering lamppost’s creepy shadows as I grip the heavy lid of the dumpster and swing the trash bags filled to the brim over the lip of the container. The smell of Indian food from the restaurant next door mixed with that of rotting garbage and pee burns my nose and makes me queasy. I swear these heightened senses are so fucking annoying sometimes. I don’t like smelling garbage or someone’s body odor so easily.

The sounds of footsteps pulls my attention to my back, and I start turning around, but something jumps out of the dumpster at the same time, making me scream murder. I clutch my chest and laugh when a cat lands in front of me. It arches its back and starts hissing at me, just like Simba acted after my heart transplant. Sadness filters through me like ablack fog.

The cat disappears in the shadows, and when I take a step toward the back door of the bar, the snick of an opening switchblade slashes through the air before the smell of a cloying cologne pierces a hole in my brain. The odor is so strong I can almost taste the bitterness and metallic tang on my tongue. Dread thickens the blood in my veins. I know I should run, but I turn around instead and face the three men standing a few feet away. They are all wearing black joggers and hoodies as if they prepared for this, their faces obscured by shadows.

The one in the middle holding the switchblade steps forward into the dim light, and my stomach plummets to the bottom of my feet. “Let’s see how tough you are now, cunt,” he spits, curling his lip in a sneer. It’s the pendejo I punched a week ago for grabbing my ass beneath my skirt, one of the douchey frat boys. The right side of his face looks like a bruised peach, all purple and blue with yellow spots.

Holy fuck! Is all that from when I punched him?

The moment they move toward me, I waste no time and launch toward the door. I grip the handle and fling it open, flying through the corridor at high speed. Normally, I would stop and question how the fuck I’m so fast, but I’m kind of in the middle of running for my life, so I don’t. Their pounding footsteps echo behind me as they get closer and closer. Adrenaline spikes my blood, and my heart rattles hard against my rib cage.

Before I can reach the front door, a hand grabs my ponytail and tugs hard, making me yelp as I lose my balance and careen backward, almost hitting one of the high-top tables. My scalp screams in pain at the feeling of a few strands getting ripped.

I send my elbow into the ribs of my attacker, and he lets me go with a sharp curse, but the one with the knife is already in front of me. He presses the cold, sharp blade into the side of my neck as his dull brown eyes bore into mine.

“One more move, and I’ll slice your throat,” he snaps, venom dripping from his tone as his leering gaze rakes over my body. “We’re going to teach you a well-deserved lesson, you stupid whore.”

My nostrils flare as the one that grabbed my hair locks my hands behind my back. “Three men against a woman. Hardly seems fair. Were you so afraid of me that you needed backup?” I bite back with a dry laugh and struggle against the hold.

I almost manage to free myself when the third one comes closer and backhands me, sending my head flying to the side. “Shut up, bitch!”

The exploding pain lends itself to little white dots swirling all around me as the metallic taste of blood floods my mouth. When it finally hits me that I’m all alone with three dangerous men, I start trembling. Abject fear impales me with the power of a thousand rusty nails, and the copper is quickly replaced by burning bile.

“Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” the one holding the knife commands, ill intent glimmering in his eyes as the blade bites into my skin, making me hiss, blood seeping from the superficial cut. “I’m going to shove my cock so far up your throat you’ll learn to never disrespect a man like that.”

I was trembling before, but now I shake violently as adrenaline seeps out of my pores. It triggers something deep within me. My skin prickles, and I swear I can feel my nails extending into claws. That’s not possible, right? It’s some sort of a trauma-induced hallucination. It has to be.

A vicious sound suddenly breaks through the eerie silence. It could only be described as a menacing growl, so powerful and raw it makes all the hair on my body stand on end as someone barrels through the front door. If I didn’t know better, I would say a giant wolf is behind us. What is weird is my reaction to the sound. I almost find it comforting, like it’s warming up my insides.

What the hell?

“Let her go before I break every single bone in your bodies and then tear out your useless spines with my bare hands,” a powerful voice booms, echoing off the walls.

We all turn toward the voice that sounds incredibly familiar. Before I can make sense of what is happening, my hands are free, and the one that had me immobilized is already sprawled on the hardwood floor in a pool of blood at my feet. I can barely register the movement as the asshole with the switchblade is thrown like a rag doll through the air before he collides with the corner of a pool table. The distinct crack of his head echoes before he falls to the ground with a loud thump and a grunt and stays there.

The third one that backhanded me mutters a curse and turns, running back toward the bathroom corridor. He barely moves before Logan tackles him like a pro linebacker. I shouldn’t be turned on at this moment, right? It would definitely be wrong of me, but dammit, if something deep inside of my chest doesn’t bloom with pride. Logan starts pummeling the guy into the floor, and I stare at him, transfixed by how his muscles ripple with unadulterated power. If he doesn’t stop, he’s going to kill him, and he’s going to get in trouble just because of me.

I finally manage to make my legs listen to me and close the small space between us. I place my hand on Logan’s shoulder and chance a glance at my nails—not claws. Thank God. I must have been hallucinating earlier.

“Logan, please stop. You’re going to kill him,” I say in a soft voice.

Logan turns, his feral gaze slams into mine, and I don’t know how to explain this otherwise, but his eyes seem to glow. They go back to normal, though, after he blinks a few times. His knuckles are bloody, but I don’t think it’s his blood. He stands abruptly and swears under his breath as he lifts his hand and gently touches the place where the blade cut into my skin with his thumb, a frown marring his forehead.

“Do you know where the first aid kit is? Did they do anything else to you?” he asks, his voice thick with concern as he scans me up and down as if to search for more injuries.

I swallow, his proximity making me frazzled. “I’m fine. I think it’s just a superficial cut; I can clean it at home. You came just in time,” I answer, breathy for no other reason than him standing so close to me. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t come barreling through the door when he did.

Logan nods and then lifts me like I weigh nothing more than a feather, placing me on top of one of the chairs at the high-top table on my right. He takes out his phone, dials someone, and steps away from me.

“What happened? Why are you calling me at this hour?” a manly voice asks on the other end with urgency. I shouldn’t be able to hear the discussion so clearly, but I do.

“Kaiden, I need your help. Some assholes attacked Ava at the Shabby Shotglass. I took care of them. Can you send someone to deal with them and clean up? I need to take Ava home.”

“Are they dead?”

“No, just passed out,” Logan answers.

“I’ll be there in five,” Kaiden says, ending the call.