Jus Accardo - Ruined

“Oh. Well, that was fast. I knew the sheriff was having it yanked from the river. Any idea what caused my brakes to crap out?”

Behind me, Jax’s shadow moved a bit closer. I could feel him standing close and it was giving me chills.

“Yes. We know exactly why your brakes didn’t work. Ms. Merrick…it looks as though they were cut.”

Jax

This was against the rules. Don’t get involved.

And yet as she ended the call, I opened my damn mouth.

“Cut? What the hell is going on?” It wasn’t eavesdropping. The guy on the other end of the line was practically yelling. I would have heard the call even without the demonic boost. “Why would someone cut your brakes?”

She tried to cover it up, but it was impossible to hide. At least, from me. A quick nibble at the left corner of her bottom lip and an overexaggerated roll of her brown eyes. That, and the hint of gray smoke that rose from her shoulders. “They’re wrong. Obviously. Why the hell would someone cut my brakes? Everyone loves me. You, on the other hand…”

She was lying. The taste of fear, sickly sweet and thick in the air, was all around. This wasn’t random and she knew it.

“Apparently, they love you so much it hurts,” I said coolly.

“Now look who’s funnier.” She flashed a thin smile. It bothered me that she thought she could pass it off as real. I’d been gone a few years, but I could see through her. Always could. Shit like that didn’t change.

“Seriously, Sammy. What’s this all about? First you leave school, now someone tries to put you at the bottom of the river? Who’d you piss off?” There. Another opening for her to come clean.

She crossed her arms and glared, the expression sexy as all hell. The right-hand corner of her lip quirked. Eyes narrow and focused. Head tilted sideways. Hair falling across her eyes. “If—and that’s a huge if—the brakes were cut, it was probably a mistake. Maybe they got the wrong car.”

“Yeah. Because that kind of shit happens all the time in Harlow.” Think snails. Open-heart surgery. Naked dudes. Anything other than the way she looked and the sound of her voice. It was derailing my focus. “If I hadn’t been in the car, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

I thought back to the night I’d left. The one and only time we’d kissed. A real kiss—not the too-brief brush in the car at the bottom of the river. Soft lips. Warm skin. The scent of honeysuckle all around. The feeling of contentment quickly overshadowed by something dark and poisonous.

“Oh, that’s right.” She smacked her head, pulling me from the memory. The gray mist faded as she glanced back toward the building. “You saved me.” Another step closer. I found it impossible to look away. “And why do you even care? This is none of your business.”

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. Only Sam could make me this particular shade of pissed off. “I was in the car, too. Whoever your friendly would-be murderer is, he almost offed me, as well. Technically I have a right to kick someone’s ass.”

She blinked, genuinely surprised. “You have the right?” She was standing so close. All I’d have to do was move my hand an inch—maybe two—and I could touch her. The thought pulled unwanted reactions from my body. “You—” She shook her head, backing away slowly toward the building.

I should have seen it coming.

In a single, fluent move, Sam pivoted and reached for the container of dirty water. Bucket in hand, she moved back toward me. “ You have the right ?”

She wouldn’t dare… “I know what you’re thinking, Sammy. Don’t.”

She grinned. A wicked smile that did fucked-up things to my brain. The way her bottom lip protruded just a hair. Eyes narrow. Cheekbones sharp. Samantha Merrick was the picture of perfection—even if she was contemplating assault with a stinky weapon.

“Wanna know what else you have a right to?”

Unfortunately there was only one thing on my mind at that particular moment, and the words came out before I could stop them. “Well, since I saved your life, I think I probably deserve a kiss. At the very least. With tongue.”

She froze for a second, face paling. Oh. Yeah. Stumped her good. It didn’t last, though. She closed the distance between us and leaned close, stopping mere inches from me. The hand holding the bucket fell to her side.

“Jax…” The sound of my name on her lips had a powerful effect on not only me, but the demon. As she nuzzled my ear and ran a finger up the other side of my neck, the demon rumbled and the scene around me changed. Another flash, this one unlike anything the thing had shown me before.

Sam was beneath me, breathing hard and biting down on her lower lip. She arched her back and moaned, exposing herself to me, and my real-time pulse spiked. The vision wasn’t real, but was wreaking havoc on my body all the same. It was impossible not to see her like that, willing and vulnerable, and not have a physical reaction.

There was a surge of amusement from the demon. It enjoyed the way this made me feel. Hungry and furious. Starving to touch her, while at the same time, so terrified of hurting her more than I already had. The flash continued, and I watched, unable to block it out, as I lowered my lips to the hollow of her throat. I worked my way down, dipping between her breasts and nipping at the skin along the way, drawing shocked little noises from Sam’s lips.

The flash ended, leaving me hard and hot, and for a second, I forgot to breathe.

“You really want a kiss? How about a wet one?” The heat from her breath lingered for a moment, followed by a stream of tepid, foul-smelling water as it rained over my head and ran down my shoulders.

I stumbled away and flicked the excess water from my arms. In a way, I was thankful. While not as good as a cold shower, it helped get the situation back under control. Unfortunately, it also made the demon furious. It pushed, but I gritted my teeth and stuffed it down. With an irritated sigh, I met her gaze and held it. “Are we even now?”

“Not a chance.” She let the empty bucket fall to the sidewalk and rubbed her hands down the sides of her jeans. “But who cares, right? You’re leaving again anyway.” Sam turned on her heel and strode to the door. A quick glance over her shoulder, and she was gone.

It was plain to see by the swirling colors above her head that she wanted me to stay despite how I’d left her behind. That alone should have lit a California wildfire under my ass. But something was wrong. Sam was in trouble—whether she knew it or not.

An hour ago, I’d been ready to leave. I’d come to the club to say good-bye once and for all, determined to put Harlow, and her, in the past for good. Now I had no choice. I had to stay—at least until I made sure she wouldn’t have any more “car trouble.”

I’d gone back to Rick’s for a dry shirt. At least, that’s what I told myself. What was supposed to be a ten-minute stopover ended up being three beers for me and two hours’ worth of bullshitting. I probably would have stayed longer, but Rick was exhausted, and I knew I was pushing my luck. I gathered my coat and was almost out the door when Chase came in.

“My jaw is fine. Thanks for asking.”

I stopped halfway across the living room. Turning around was a bad call, but I did it anyway. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I told him that,” Rick called from the other room. A series of coughs followed.

Chase leaned against the doorframe and grinned. Not a care in the world. That always bugged me. Easy and smooth. The guy never stressed over anything. “Why? Because you’ll kick my ass?”