Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 26
Thank God, I shake my head in irritation.
He leads me to the edge of the crowd where there are fewer people. My head is on a swivel as I continue scanning the room, searching for Colson—or anyone, for that matter—who’s looking my way. I don’t believe I’ll actually see anyone, especially in the dim light, it’s more compulsive at this point.
Wells looks over his shoulder to make sure I’m still there and I follow his shape in the corner of my eye. Still distracted, I vaguely see him turn to the side to let me step past him. And when I do, I look up to see pitch black hallway instead of the edge of the bar. Everything goes quiet and when I spin around, I hear the metallic clank of a heavy door slamming shut behind me.
I have made a huge mistake.
I’m so distracted by the idea of someone watching me, I don’t realize that I’m walking straight through a door. The walls are painted black and the corridor is lit by a single sconce halfway down the hall. I don’t know where it leads, but the only door I can see belongs to what looks like a storage closet about 10 feet away. It’s otherwise deserted except for Wells and me. I spin around to see Wells let go of the metal door handle.
He glances around the corridor before his eyes settle back onto me, “If you’re worried about someone watching you, you’re probably safe in here.”
Safe, my ass.
“What, are we just going to stand around in an empty hallway?” I laugh, trying to deflect as best I can.
He takes a step into my space, “No.”
My muscles begin to tremble, but it’s not cold. The adrenaline starts pumping.
“Besides, you never got me that drink,” I nod to the door with a smile and I try to brush past him, but he backs me into the wall before I can take another step.
Bracing myself against his shoulders, I try to hold him at arm’s length, but everything is happening too fast. I rock back on my heel as his chest closes the space between us, pressing my back into the cold drywall.
I shake my head as I feel the panic rising, “No,” it comes out like a croak from my dry throat, “come on, I still want my drink.”
Wells slides his hand along my neck and up the side of my face, pushing my chin up with his thumb. Even in the shadows, there’s a glimmer in his deep brown eyes.
“I know you never wanted a drink.” His lips brush over mine as he tries to kiss me, then he moves to my neck as I recoil, “It’s better if you’re not drunk, anyway.”
All the air leaves the room when he says the last part. I don’t want to know what he means.
“You need to let me go,” I say through clenched teeth, pushing against him.
“Because of your boyfriend?” he grins, looking me up and down, “He doesn’t have to know. If I’m the fake boyfriend, everything we do is fake, right?”
“Nope,” I dig my nails into his shoulders, pushing harder, “it’s not.”
Wells snatches my right hand off his shoulder so fast it startles me. He twists it behind me and holds it against the small of my back, “Come again?” he asks.
An image flashes through my mind.
I gasp for air and my arms fly to his shoulders, but he crosses his forearm over my chest and pins them back down.
My muscles tremble and it’s like I’m back in that dark room, three years ago, and it’s happening all over again. I try to lean forward and push against Wells with my whole body, but he releases my face and snatches my left hand, too, and slams my back against the wall with his entire body. I let out a gasp, feeling my heartrate skyrocket.
I need to get out of here. Now.
“Does this usually work for you?” I mutter through panicked breaths, trying in vain to maintain composure while also wriggling my hands from his grip.
“You’re the one with the fantasies, hon, I’m just going with it,” he murmurs while crushing my wrists between my back and the wall.
“Just forget it, I want to leave!” I shout angrily.
Wells leans closer until his nose almost touches mine, “Do you want your back or your face against the wall?” Then he nods behind him, “Or would you prefer the floor? Because I can tell you which one you’ll enjoy more.”
I’m staring back at him, frozen with fear, when I feel a swish of warm air as the door flies open. I give a shriek and pitch to the side as a dark figure knocks Wells off of me. Stumbling halfway to the floor, I wrench my hands away as he’s torn off of me. I only see Wells’s head and his hands as he’s grabbed by the shoulders and thrown into the closet with a crash.
The door slams behind them, leaving me plastered against the wall, shaking, and my mouth hanging open in horror. As soon as I hear muffled yells and bangs, I lunge for the door and throw it open, propelling myself back into the main room. Moments later, I’m furiously weaving through the crowd like a salmon trying to swim for its life. I catch sight of Barrett heading toward the restrooms and half run to catch up with her, bumping into more than a couple of people as I go.
I call out to her and she finally stops to wait for me before passing the bar and descending down another matte black hallway lit by vintage sconces. While she furiously types out a text, muttering something about leaving work at work, I duck into a stall and throw the lock shut, my hands shaking uncontrollably. Once inside, I sit down on the edge of the toilet and grab my face. I rock back and forth, raking my hands up my cheeks and over my scalp, trying not to hyperventilate.
I can’t believe that asshole tried to assault me. Who the hell was that who came flying out of nowhere? And what happened after they both disappeared into that closet?
I don’t care. I don’t fucking care. I just want all of this to be over. I don’t want to see him again.
I take a few more moments to collect myself and steady my trembling hands before unlocking the door.
And when I step in front of the mirror, the reflection gives me a start.
Are you fucking kidding me right now?
Hannah Bailey is standing at the sink directly to my right, leaning into the mirror plucking something from her eyelashes. She’s wearing tight black pants paired with black leather ankle boots and a backless, cream halter top. Her blonde hair is tousled in beachy waves. When she realizes it’s me at the next sink, staring at her, she straightens up and looks over her shoulder.
“Hi,” I finally break the awkward silence, “I didn’t know you were here.” Trying to sound cordial and upbeat around Hannah is proving to be more challenging by the day.
“It’s my coworker’s birthday,” she says half-heartedly and turns back to the mirror to reapply her mascara. As she screws the top back on the tube, she suddenly straightens up and looks over her shoulder again, “Is Bo here, too?”
She’s terrible at masking her hopefulness and the uptick in her tone immediately turns my anxiety to irritation.
“No,” I start washing my hands for no reason, “it’s girls’ night.”
“Oh.” Hannah pauses for a moment with a hint of skepticism.
She stares at me blankly and then looks me up and down.
“What?” I shake my hands into the sink and reach for a paper towel.
“Nothing,” Hannah’s eyes drop as she turns back to the mirror, shaking her head dismissively, “I saw you with some guys. I just figured Bo would be here, too. Is the one with the dark hair a friend of yours?”
My chest tightens and I clench my jaw. An intense anger builds, fueled by the last shreds of panic from miraculously escaping whatever the hell happened—or was going to happen—back in that hallway. I stare into the mirror at my reflection and take a deep breath, knowing exactly what Hannah’s implying.
I’ve never hit anyone before, but tonight might be the night.
I crumple up the wet paper towel and toss it in the trash can under the dispenser, “If you want to say something, just say it.”
I unzip my green leather crossbody and reach into the interior pocket, retrieving my tube of Maple Sun. I jerk the top off and drag it over my lips, glaring at Hannah’s reflection. She looks up and opens her mouth to fire off another asinine comment, but stops short, her eyes trained on my lipstick. I turn to her with a venomous smirk, rubbing my copper lips together.
Hannah plants one hand on the vanity and the other on her hip, “I know you were in my apartment,” she seethes.
“Yeah,” I brush her off, snapping the top back on the lipstick tube, “I was there with Hildy when she checked on your cat.”
I don’t know whether she realizes I came back later, but there’s no way I’ll ever admit that unless she saw me with her own eyes.
“Are you mad I stole my own lipstick back?” I continue. “Speaking of which, why are you coming in my house and leaving shit in my closet?”
Bowen gets creepy pictures, I get creepy drawings, we’re a match made in heaven.
“It’s Bo’s house,” Hannah replies, adjusting the waist of her pants.
I cock my head, disregarding her dig, “Does Bowen know you like sneaking into our house and stealing my stuff? Do you like to play dress-up and pretend you’re me or do you do black magic rituals with them? Or,” my voice gets louder as I continue, “do you like sneaking over in the middle of the night to play with rocks in the driveway?”
She jerks her head up, “Does Bo know you like hanging on other guys when he’s not around?” she snaps.
I’m not in the mood for this. Wells the creep almost assaults me in a dark hall, some phantom flies out of nowhere and throws him into a closet, and now Hannah’s accusing me of sleazing around the bar with strange men. And yeah, maybe that’s how it looks, but it’s not like she cares enough to find out the truth.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I zip my purse and swing it over my hip, “Run and tell Bowen I’m with other guys just to be a salty bitch because he won’t fuck you.”
Hannah gazes at me, her scornful smile unchanged. But the muscles in her neck twitch as soon as I utter those words, just like the moment Hildy introduced me to her at the wedding. But she holds onto her composure, running her tongue over her teeth and slowly turning to the mirror.
“Anymore.” She drags her middle finger across the edge of her lower lip, sharpening the line of glistening apricot gloss.
Before I can say anything else, the door to the other stall swings open and bangs against the wall, giving me a start. Barrett saunters past the door, seemingly oblivious to the both of us. I’m so irritated, I forgot she was even in the restroom with me.
“Excuse me.” Barrett brushes against Hannah’s chest as she steps in front of the sink, nudging her aside.
Hannah flinches and takes a step back, caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion. Barrett glances over her shoulder at me.
“Are you talking about Bowen Garrison?” She waves her hand under the faucet to trigger the motion sensor and starts washing her hands, deadpan as she waits for an answer.
“Yeah?” I drag out the word, watching her with curiosity.
“Who are you?” Hannah barks, clearly annoyed by the interruption.
Barrett shakes her hands into the sink and reaches past me for a paper towel. She takes her time blotting her hands and then turns to Hannah, eyeing her with condescension.
“I’m Barrett Halsey,” she looks Hannah up and down, “who the fuck are you?”
Before Hannah can answer, Barrett turns back to me, narrowing her eyes, “You look familiar,” she studies me for a moment, tilting her head in scrutiny, “you’re Bowen’s girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” I crack a smile, “have we met?”
Barrett waves her hand with a smile, “I’ve seen pictures of you on Facebook, that’s why. Y’all are engaged, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I nod, “so, how do you know Bowen?”
Barrett opens her mouth to speak, but hesitates. She looks back and forth between Hannah and me and then averts her eyes, “We were kind of on and off for a while last year,” she replies, flashing me an apologetic grin.
I arch my eyebrows, “Really?”
“We kept it under wraps because I was fresh out of a bad relationship. But I travel a lot for work, so it just didn’t work out.” Barrett lowers her voice, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little jealous of you. That man has skills that should be illegal.”
I press my lips together and look away, trying not to laugh.
“Oh my god,” Barrett grabs my arm, “I’m sorry, that was so inappropriate! This was before y’all were together, I swear.”
I shake my head and wave her off, “It’s fine, seriously.”
“Are you sure you’re talking about the right guy?” Hannah breaks in, her sour face drawing up into a scowl.
Barrett looks at Hannah with annoyance, as if she just realized Hannah’s still in the room.
“Well,” she tosses her shiny mocha hair over her shoulder with a smirk, “if it’s the same Bowen Garrison from Canaan with eyes to die for and that sexy-ass tattoo of some demons right above his dick, then yeah, I’d say I’m talking about the right guy.”
My jaw tenses and the muscles in my neck ache from trying to maintain a straight face. Meanwhile, Hannah looks like she’s about to throw hands.
Barrett turns away from her with a scowl, her face melting into a charming smile a second later, “If I didn’t say it already, congratulations. He’s a really good guy. Granted, he’s so sweet that you might have to shoo away the fruit flies that are constantly buzzing around him trying to get a piece of that. In fact, when we were dating, he kept talking about this one girl that’s been obsessed with him for years and just won’t leave him alone.” Barrett snaps her fingers as though she’s trying to remember a name.
“Oh, no,” I mutter, feigning concern.
“Yeah, maybe a friend of his sister’s?”
I clench my jaw, seconds from collapsing in laughter.
“Anyway, he said she’s annoying as fuck, always hanging on him and showing up wherever he is. Kind of creepy. So, hopefully that’s run its course by now.”
I nod, biting my lip with amusement.
“Anyway, congratulations again.” Barrett spins around, giving a wave as she flings the restroom door open, “You ladies have a good evening!”
I scoff at Hannah and brush past her before the door can even close. I rush back down the hallway and burst into laughter when I see Barrett waiting for me at the corner of the bar. She lets out a whoop and grabs my hand.
“That was,” I gasp, “ah-mazing.”
Barrett links her arm in the crook of my elbow and leans into my ear as we descend back into the darkness, “Girl, I got you,” she croons as we weave through the crowd to our table.
It suddenly dawns on me that an awkward and terrifying situation may be waiting for me when we get there. I’ve managed to forget for 10 minutes what happened in the dark hallway with Wells, but I still don’t know what happened to him or who pulled him off of me. Regardless, we have to get back to Anna. There’s a high probability she’s already climbed onto some Kawasaki parked outside and ditched us for Ethan and his spotless boots.
But when we arrive at the table, there’s only one guy left. I vaguely recognize his dirty blonde hair and oddly smooth face that makes him look like a six-foot-tall Ken doll. He’s sitting next to Anna with his hand resting on the back of her chair.
“Where’d everyone go?” Barrett glances around.
Anna swivels in her chair and eyes me from across the table, “Is Bowen here and we don’t know about it?”
My stomach drops, “What?” I step up into my seat and smooth the front of my shirt.
The Ken doll hooks the heel of his brown square-toe boot over the rung of his chair. He rubs the side of his chin and sits back with a smirk.
“You got a bodyguard here somewhere?” he grins.
I stare blankly at him, “What are you talking about?” I ask again with a half-smile.
He and Anna exchange amused looks, “Wells got in a fight,” Anna beams, excitement splashed across her face.
“What?” My heartrate skyrockets again.
Ken doll looks down into his lap, “I don’t know if fight is word I’d use,” he drones, “more like got his ass beat.”
I’m getting the feeling that Ken Doll isn’t too sad about Wells’s misfortune. Anna laughs into her hand and shoots Ken Doll a look.
“By who?” my voice pitches up as I try to look around as subtly as possible.
Ken Doll shrugs, “You all went to the bar and Wells came back all torqued up. He had blood on him and it looked like someone tried to break his face. He said some guy pulled a knife and told him to stay away from you.”
“He called us crazy bitches and then they all left,” Anna grins deviously, eating it up, “all except Hayden.”
I stare back at her in shock, “What’d the guy look like?” I murmur across the table.
“You didn’t see any of it?” Ken Doll sounds surprised, “Damn. I wanted the whole story.”
“Uh, no.” I’m not lying, technically I only saw a dark figure for a split second. “I was waiting at the bar with him and then went to the restroom.”
“It was probably Bowen,” Barrett surmises as she digs in her purse for her Chapstick.
“No,” I laugh, brushing her off, “if he were here and saw all those guys he would’ve been sitting here at the table.”
“You’re right,” Barrett shrugs, “Bowen would do it out in the open where everyone could see.”
I entertain the alternative for a brief moment. On one hand, Bowen probably wouldn’t be happy that I asked some rando to be my fake boyfriend to deter a stalker—a stalker he believes is Colson and has said as much. On the other, I would much prefer that it was Bowen breaking Wells’s face, especially after what he did.
But the fact remains, Colson or not, someone is still breaking into my car, sending me drinks with creepy notes, and lurking in close proximity with a knife.
