Quicksilver Dreams (Dreamwalkers) (4 page)

Cynthia glared up at the man’s face as seconds ticked by, and I could almost hear Shep gulp. Then she plastered a smile on her face and turned to Shep. “No worries.” She leaned over and kissed Shep’s cheek. “He’s an old friend. I think your band is ready to start.”

“Are you sure? ’Cuz if you need me to, I’ll kick this guy’s ass.”

“No, really,” Cynthia insisted. “It’s cool.”

I almost laughed seeing the look of relief that crossed Shep’s face. “Okay, then. If you’re sure.” But he couldn’t get away quickly enough. He moved toward the stage at a fast pace and didn’t look back.

Adonis tossed bills my way for the beer he was leaving behind. “Let’s go.”

“No,” Cynthia snapped, getting comfortable on one of the bar stools. “I’m here for a good time.”

“You want to do this here?”

“I want you to leave me alone. We have nothing to talk about.”

“Can’t do that.”

“Cynthia, do you need help?” I lowered my voice. “Charlie and Bill can handle this for you.”

“I’m fine.” This was a Cynthia I didn’t know. Her face was composed in unusually hard lines, and though she was definitely angry, I thought there was a hurt look to her eyes. Had this guy hurt her in the past? Was he the lying, cheating bastard from long ago?

“Let me know if that changes.”

“I will. I’m just going to sit here and listen to the band.” She turned to Adonis. “You want to talk, do it here. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“We’ll see about that,” he muttered.

“Tay, I need help.” Sally, one of the servers, was grabbing up a dozen beers from the fridge and trying to grab as many frosted mugs from the freezer. “Got a large party crammed around three of the tables, watching the screen over there. Can you grab that tray?”

“Sure.” I turned to Cynthia. “Be right back.”

“No worries. I’m not going anywhere.”

An old pro at this, I hefted a tray carefully and made my way across the room, expertly anticipating and sidestepping customers who suddenly stepped in my way because they were a little toasted and not paying attention.

But here’s what really sucks about being a server, and why I was so determined to get behind the bar and off the floor:

When your arms are loaded and you can’t protect yourself, drunken guys try to get away with shit. I was able to ignore the carefree pat on my ass as I followed Sally around the large group of men seated and standing at the tall, round bar tables and stools that Johnny had scattered around the outskirts of the dance floor, but then I felt a hand on the bare skin of my thigh, and it was moving up.

“Hey! Cut it out!” I scowled, trying to dislodge the guy’s hand with an elbow to his chest. It was the best I could do while carrying this stupid tray. Didn’t work. He’d had a few too many to be thinking clearly. His eyes looked bleary and empty, and a goofy grin was spreading across his fleshy cheeks.

“You sure are pretty,” he mumbled. His hand started climbing toward my ass cheek!

I set the tray down, but it turned out I didn’t have to. One second the guy was in his chair, and the next he was kneeling and crying out, holding his fingers. It was a blur, some simple maneuver involving twisting the fingers of his offending hand, which totally incapacitated him.

And who was towering over him at approximately six feet two inches with muscles bulging, ready for action, murder in his eyes? Who was my dark knight to the rescue? Ryder. My heart quivered. I was breathless. I couldn’t seem to stop staring at his face. It was so beautifully masculine; his scruffy square jaw was clenched, a sneer curling his top lip, his eyes looking stone cold at the guy on the floor.

He raised them to meet mine, and they narrowed and heated as they did a body scan. They sent a shiver through me before he looked back down at the guy on the floor nursing his fingers.

“Leave her the fuck alone.” His voice came out all low and deadly sounding. Tingles went up my spine.

“Ryder,” I whispered, forgetting where I was for just a fraction of a second.

But the rest of the world wouldn’t let me forget. Some of the guy’s buddies stood up, looking like they wanted a piece of whatever was going on, and I knew what that could mean. I wanted to get ahead of it.

“You all want to get tossed?” I used my meanest, loudest voice. “Tell your friend here to keep his hands to himself, or next time he’s getting booted!” Understanding the situation now, they all sat down and turned their attention back to what they’d been doing with mumbled comments about their friend like “What an ass” and “Why did you bring him?”

When I looked back to thank Ryder for helping me, he was gone. Disappointment sat heavily on my shoulder. After quickly emptying my tray and tossing it back behind the bar, I got back to my station, but Cynthia was gone and a quick note on a napkin told me she was going home. At that point, my curiosity got the better of me, and I took a fifteen-minute break, hoping to spot Ryder. No luck.

The rest of the night progressed uneventfully, but with closing and cleanup, I wasn’t able to get home until close to three-thirty in the morning. As always, I jumped in the shower for a quick rinse, wanting to get the smell of the club off me. Then I could climb into my nice, sweet-smelling bed with a heartfelt groan for my sore feet, though I still couldn’t fall asleep right away.

My bill-paying ability was weighing on me. My early attempts to soothe myself had been a temporary panacea, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Reggie was going to can my ass. I wondered if Johnny had any extra hours to tide me over between jobs if it came to that, and I pondered buying another industry magazine from the newsstand to see if there were any other positions available. Then I figured I was jumping the gun and needed to calm myself, because really, I’m the best damn assistant Reggie was ever going to have who would actually put up with his mania.

With that final thought in place, I turned out the light and drifted off and back into my erotic dream...

I felt the soft binding on my wrists and ankles, and the large, rough hand was already caressing my rib cage. I couldn’t help a tremulous sigh as butterfly wings carried heat to my thighs.

Is this another dream?
I questioned faintly, wanting it to go on and on. It was just like last night—the clarity, the structure, the detail—but was even more amplified. I could feel the weight shift on the mattress between my legs and the same spicy soap reach my nose.

Rough-textured whiskers scraped my breast, and I gasped, arching my back, silently begging for more. Heat sizzled through my body, and I couldn’t get enough. The whiskers rubbed back and forth before firm lips caught my nipple and strong teeth took nibbling bites.

Oh
,
my God.
I
can’t
...
I
want to touch you
... I moaned.

The torture went on. Heat spiraled out of control, so I was whimpering and straining against the bindings. I wanted to touch this male body that was in my dream with me, but I was frustrated and helpless, which only served to get me hotter, because my will was being controlled by another force. I was helpless against whatever my phantom lover wanted to do to me, and it was getting me completely, desperately aroused. It was all out of my control. There was nothing I could do but feel the pleasure rippling through my body, losing all my inhibitions for my faceless lover.

Chapter Three

It was noon by the time I woke up, and while it took a few minutes to fully appreciate my conscious state, it didn’t take me long to remember that I’d had another...what would I call that...a waking dream? Sleepwalking? But no...I hadn’t actually gone anywhere during the dream.

Whatever it had been, it was leaving me feeling relaxed, if nothing else. I was feeling so good, I decided to head over to the gym, but first I wanted to find Cynthia. There was some girl talk that needed to happen, specifically about the blond Adonis she’d been talking to at the club last night.

After throwing on a pair of short spandex shorts and a sports-bra shirt, I brushed my hair into a ponytail. Spying the can in the door of the refrigerator, I went for the energy drink that could give me wings, wanting the caffeine hit before my workout. Taking a healthy swig, I knocked on Cynthia’s door, ready for an earful on the titillating subject of what the hell happened last night. At the muffled “Come in,” I entered into the most bizarre of situations: Cynthia, in a flustered state of indecision, and her bedroom, in a whirlwind of clothes and chaos.

Whoa
,
Nelly.

She was attempting to pack a large suitcase, and there was evidence of crying all over her face. I’d only seen her cry, sort of, once. Ever. Her eyes looked puffy and her cheeks were pale despite the heat of the day.

Absolutely distressing.

This was so far out of character for her, I was speechless for several seconds. I could see she was trying to put on her cool-as-a-cucumber face for me, but I wasn’t buying it. For Cyn to look so upset, someone must have died. A feeling of dread came over me.

“What’s going on?”

“I need to leave. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but don’t worry about rent. I arranged for a money transfer to deposit funds into your account. I hope you don’t mind, but I needed to act on this quickly, so I got the number off your checkbook.”

“Cynthia, it’s all fine, but what happened? Why are you upset? Why do you need to leave?”

“My brother went missing.”

“Missing? What do you mean? Like abduction, or gone walkabout?”

“He’s been studying a section of land out in the desert by Las Vegas and hasn’t reported in for a couple of weeks.”

“Is that what Adonis came to tell you?”

“Adonis?” She gave me a look of confusion and continued moving between her closet and her suitcase, folding items in a somewhat haphazard fashion, which was also strange for her. She was usually totally anal about clothes, more so than I am, and I can be pretty anal.

“The blond guy from last night.”

“Adonis,” she muttered through tight lips. She shook her head, seeming to reject the tag I’d given him. “His name’s Nick. He found my brother’s campsite still with all his stuff there, but no trace of him. I told him my brother would probably turn up soon. He’s gone off on his own before, sometimes for longer than two weeks, without telling anyone.”

I relaxed a bit. “Then what else is going on? You look wrecked.”

“Thanks a lot.” She scowled at me and continued packing. “I’m fine. Nothing’s going on. Just tired.” Total blow-off response. I gave a mental eye roll.

“Okay. So what do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know, but I’m meeting the rest of my family in Vegas. We’ll figure it out then.”

“Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to call work, help you pack, or anything?”

“Not right now,” came her sharp reply, “but I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

Figuring I knew what was really pushing her buttons and because I was totally worried about her emotional health and
not at all nosy
, I asked, “Hey, is there something going on with you and Nick? You guys seemed pretty intense yesterday at the club. Almost like you were fighting?”

“Me and Nick?” There was a look of alarm on her face (bingo!) that she quickly wiped into an innocently neutral don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look.
Damn.
“Not at all. He’s just been a friend of my brother’s since they were kids. That’s a funny question to ask me.” Though she wasn’t smiling when she said it, and again, she swept by me without making eye contact. Like I was some kind of annoyance!

Okay
,
then.
There was more going on here than she was telling me, and I had to admit, that kinda hurt. It was like she didn’t trust me with her secrets, when the good lord knew she’d heard all, and I mean
all
, of mine. And it wasn’t like she
had
to tell me anything at all. If she didn’t feel like talking, then she could
say
that. I mean really. I come in here, she’s frantically packing, she’s obviously been crying, her brother’s missing and I saw her arguing in a seemingly intimate tone with the blond guy last night. Don’t tell me everything’s fine.

There was a knock on the door.

“That should be Nick,” Cynthia muttered. “He’s driving us there.”

“Do you want me to get that?”

“Yeah. Tell him I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

I tried to ignore the feeling that I was getting shut out by the very best friend I’ve ever had, my first real friend, and did my best to focus on the seriousness of the situation. I took another swig of the energy drink and reminded myself not to pout as I opened the front door.

“You must be Nick.” I forced a smile and even used my friendly voice. “My name’s Taylor.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” His lips curled briefly, but his gray eyes remained somber, his body language impatient. It seemed we were all putting on faces this morning.

“Come on in. Cynthia said she’ll be ready in just a few minutes. Can I get you some coffee? Water? Red Bull?” I flashed my can commercial style.

“I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just see if I can get her to hurry.” Without pausing, he headed accurately down the short hall that led to her bedroom. All I could do was stare after him, wondering if there was something wrong with letting him just walk through the apartment like he owned the place. Then I gave an actual shrug.
She knows him better than she knows me anyway
, sulked my uncharitable thoughts.

Hearing my whiny inner voice was making me cringe (I’m not a morning person on a normal day), and I knew I needed to get out of there. I could feel my insecurities coming to the surface, and they’re not pretty.

“I’m taking off, Cyn,” I called down the hall. “Call me when you can.” I grabbed my keys and gym bag and was already heading down to the courtyard when she came jogging out.

“Tay! Wait!” She looked distressed as she caught up with me. “You weren’t going to say bye?”

“You seemed busy,” I muttered, barely meeting her gaze because I knew I was being stupid but couldn’t seem to stop myself. “I don’t like to get in the way of family.”

She stared into my eyes searchingly for several seconds (really weird) before looking down at the ground with a sigh. “Okay. There’s more going on with Nick than I was letting on, but the truth is, I just can’t think about it right now. I’m not trying to shut you out. I wasn’t expecting to see him yesterday, and now my brother could be missing. My feelings are all over the map, and I don’t have the luxury of time to sort through them, much less share them. Please tell me you understand.”

Her golden eyes were sincere. There was even a shimmer of tears. Without even thinking, I gave her a warm hug. “Of course I understand.”

“You mean a lot to me, Tay, and I don’t ever want you to think otherwise.”

“I’m just a big baby.” I shook my head. Here I was throwing a tantrum, when Cynthia faced possibly losing a brother. “Do what you need to do, and call me when you can.”

“You’re the very best friend I’ve ever had too. There’s never been anyone else I could trust the way I’ve trusted you. Really.”

“Cynthia, we’ve got to go. Now.” Nick’s tone of voice was more commanding than friendly as he came down the stairs with her suitcase. “Make sure you have everything you need.”

“I told you I wasn’t finished packing!” She raised her voice at him, which made my eyes round in shock. Powerful mischief was running amok! I even took a quick look around to see if anyone was witnessing this strange, unusual occurrence, but no one else in the apartment complex seemed to be braving L.A.’s midday summer heat.

“Half your closet is in here already. Whatever you don’t have we’ll buy on the road.” Nick’s tone brooked no argument, and I waited for the counter Cyn explosion to bust out.

It didn’t come, though I could almost hear the mental growl Cynthia was trying to breathe her way through in order to regain her infamous self-control. I wondered if she was going to make it without unloading all over this guy. It also made me wonder what had happened between them. The mystery loomed in my brain, because I’d never seen Cynthia as off-kilter as she’d been the last twenty-four hours. Was this Nick a good guy? Should I worry about her?

And strangely enough, as though he heard my question, Nick paused as he walked by us and gave me a real smile that showed off his absolute gorgeousness. “I’ll take care of her. She’ll be in good hands. I promise.” He did one of those quick two-finger salutes and continued on while Cynthia watched him walk out through the security gate with a wistful expression that sort of told me all. She gave me another hug and ran back up to the apartment with a parting wave.

“We’ll talk soon!”

“Okay! Good luck! Keep me updated.”

I knew there was something weird about all of the exchanges I’d participated in this morning, but with so much going on that was out of the norm, I forgot to think about it.

Besides, the gym called to me, and I arrived in time to take the kickboxing class that always gives me a feeling of empowerment. I wasn’t just getting exercise, I was learning how to kick and punch really effectively. I could, potentially,
kick some ass
if the need arose, which made me feel large and in charge. Very important when you’ve felt helpless and at the mercy of others your whole life.

At least that’s what Rico says to me every time I show up, that I’m learning how to defend myself. I think he’s got a little crush, so I imagine he’ll say whatever he thinks will get me coming back to his class. It must work though, because there I was, sweating like a pig, huffing and puffing and doing my best to use proper form while doing a roundhouse kick to the heavy bag.

“Back to combinations: left jab, right cross, left hook. Left, right, hook! Left, right, hook! Now add an uppercut! Left jab, right cross, left hook, right uppercut!”

“I can’t do this much longer,” an older lady who was seriously sucking air said from the heavy bag next to mine.

“Hang in there!” I managed to spit out, still taking it out on the innocent bag.

She was someone I recognized by face from the class. Though I never got her name, she was really inspiring to watch and cheer on. She had game.

Of course, now too much time had gone by for me to ask her name without feeling totally stupid.

“I’m trying to hang in there,” she gasped.

“Ten more minutes,” I panted with burning lungs, but our talking brought Rico’s attention to us.

“Keep your gloves up,” he barked at me over the sound of the music, and I tried, really, but my shoulder muscles were burning from the last forty minutes of class. Who knew you needed shoulder muscles to keep your arms working?

“One more addition! Add the backhand! You have to step into it with your left foot! Left jab, right cross, left hook, right uppercut, right backhand! Left, right, hook, uppercut, backhand! Left, right, hook, uppercut, backhand!”

With my last bit of energy, I attacked the bag for the next two minutes, and when the song finally ended and Rico called “Enough!” I was absolutely noodled. I could do little more than rest my hands on my knees in a bent position and concentrate on forcing air into my lungs quickly enough to keep myself from passing out.

“Good work, Taylor. You’ve got heart.” Rico held up his hand, and I just barely managed to high-five it, feeling proud of the compliment. He turned back to the class and called, “Time to cool down!” I found that a little affirmation went a long way as I discovered the energy to do some stomach crunches and stretches with the class to finish things out without actually passing out entirely.

Rico turned off the music and thanked everyone for a good class as they made their ways out. I was feeling quite accomplished and full of bravado, thinking,
Just let someone try to accost me on the street and see what I do.
I’ll wale on their ass!

I smiled, imagining it from my position on the floor, completely out of energy, which I recognized as being completely ironic. The need for water drove me to stand—that and the fact that people scheduled for the next class were beginning to arrive. I got up and grabbed the water from my bag, where it was tossed alongside the back wall of the room, and downed it in great gulps.

“So what are you up to tonight?” Rico was pulling the strap to his athletic bag over his shoulder as he approached me.

“Work.” I downed more water and capped it, popping it back into my gym bag.

“Ever have time for fun?” He was smiling flirtatiously, and he was definitely a handsome guy. But though I would have considered going out with him even a week ago, somehow his chin seemed weak and his eyes weren’t green, and he was only average height (which was still taller than me). It was silly, but there you have it.

“The world is an expensive place, Rico. I work six days a week and rest on the seventh.”

“Yeah, well, let me know if you ever have free time. I think we could have some fun.” His dark eyes smiled playfully into mine, and somehow they just didn’t seem serious enough, intense enough.

Just shoot me, right? This was probably yet another manifestation of my need to stay away from emotional entanglements and come up with reasons why I couldn’t be with someone, even when I’d been attracted to them before. One of the main reasons I’d started taking this class was because I thought Rico was a hot guy. Over time, I’d realized it was a good class and it was helping me live my life like a badass. One of my needs in this life I lived was to be able to take care of myself no matter what. I could never rely on anyone else for anything, ever again. Ever.