The Forbidden Note (Redwood Kings Book 4)

Six Months Ago

The card slips from my hand and falls into the bartender’s. His eyes regard me with pity as he fixes my drink and returns with it.

It must be all over my face.

The pain.

The sorrow.

It won’t be there for long. I plan on blowing the last of my savings to get hammered.

Tonight marks the end.

Or more like the beginning of the end.

I take a sip and people-watch.

A couple on the opposite end of the bar whisper to each other.

The woman giggles.

The guy smirks.

A moment later, they get up and leave.

I slide a chipped fingernail around the rim of my cup as a wound in my chest throbs.

What would it feel like to look at someone like that? To love someone like that? What would it feel like if every minute of every day wasn’t tainted in blood?

I tilt my drink back.

It’s bitter at first, but warm as it slides down my throat.

The music in the bar is loud and invasive.

Can’t they turn it down?

No, Grey. You don’t come to a bar and ask the manager to turn down the music.

I’m such an idiot.

For pulling on this short, barely-there dress.

For slipping into these stupidly high heels.

For thinking I could do this without her.

I don’t belong here.

She was the brave one. The one who flashed fake IDs at the bartender and didn’t bat an eyelash. Dragged me to the dance floor. Made complete fools of ourselves as we flailed to the music.

‘Damn, you take everything so seriously, Grey. Loosen up!’

Sometimes, it feels like everyone in the world is living in ‘normal’ mode. I’m the only one in Bizzaro land.

She was the person who made me human.

“A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be frowning like that,” says a man to my right.

The chair had been empty a second ago. I hadn’t noticed when it became occupied.

I tighten my fingers around the cup and look at him. “Excuse me?”

“You need another drink.” He snaps his fingers at the bartender. “Yo! Another round for the lady.”

The bartender, busy with other customers, doesn’t even glance up.

I’d do the same.

“Geez, can I get some service around here?” He slams his hands on the counter, drawing more eyes and making me squirm in second-hand embarrassment.

“I don’t want another drink.” I ease off the bar stool. Grab my purse. Scramble to get away from him.

“Don’t be like that. Look.” He flashes cash in my face. “I’ve got money. I’ll pay for it.”

Wow.

“I’m fine,” I say tightly.

The stranger glances at my chest that’s bursting out of my low-cut dress. A slow, lecherous grin crosses his mouth. “Sweetheart, you didn’t come here tonight looking like that, expecting to leave alone, did you?”

My skin bristles.

Yet another strike in the ‘should have stayed home’ column.

“You here with someone?” He leans forward, getting in my face. The overpowering scent of his cologne makes me nauseous.

“I’m not interested,” I say, trying to wave the bartender over so I can get my card and leave.

He chuckles and grabs my arm. “Baby, that’s not what I asked.”

I freeze, my heartbeat accelerating. Everything inside me wants to throw my drink in his face and run, but I can’t move.

Do I make a scene or just keep quiet?

My heart burns.

My eyes drop to the floor.

It’s easier to keep my mouth shut.

It’s what I’ve done all my life.

You’re only one person. You can’t change anything. You can’t make a difference.

But that was the old me.

I have a mission, a new job.

I’m moving back to that despicable city… to make a change.

I’m done being quiet.

As I open my mouth, a dark voice slices the air behind me.

“Does she look like your ‘baby’?”

Shocked, I glance up. All I can see is the back of a black T-shirt stretching over wide shoulders as a man brushes past me. He stands guard in front of my chair, fingers loose, legs firm. In his back pocket are a pair of worn drumsticks.

The jerk flings to his feet. “Who the hell are you?”

“None of your business.” There’s venom in that tone. A hint of gravel. Like an otherworldly beast in a classic Greek tale.

I see the jerk’s shifty eyes pinballing between me and the stranger.

Why don’t you give him a show?

The thought sounds like her.

It makes me smile. Makes me feel like she’s still here.

I want to chase that feeling, chase it all the way off a cliff if I have to.

Angling my body toward the stranger, I smile. “Why are you so late?”

Shocking blue eyes, like pieces ripped out of the sky, beam down on me. It’s my first time getting a good look at his face and it makes my heart slam against my ribs.

This guy is stunning.

A little younger than I’d expect—there’s a rebellious glint in his eyes and a tilt to his chin that says the world hasn’t beaten the fight out of him yet—but those broad shoulders and that deep voice compile into an enticing package.

“Sorry, tiger,” he says. The way his eyes dip to my lips makes my knees weak. “Traffic.”

“You’re kidding me,” the jerk grunts. “You’re not together. I saw you sitting in the corner a few minutes ago.”

Shoot. We’ve been had.

“Are you messing with me?” The jerk grabs the stranger’s collar and hauls him forward until they’re nose-to-nose.

A chair topples.

The bartender glances over in alarm.

“I suggest you remove your hands.”

“Or what, punk? You think I can’t take you?”

A shiver of fear runs down my spine. Both men are around the same height, but the jerk has a bit more girth to him. It’s a toss-up who’ll win this fight.

Suddenly, two men approach us. They flank the stranger on either side, saying nothing and yet amping up the tension.

I glance between the newcomers. They’re both tall and broad-shouldered. One is blonde. The other has silky black hair and almond-shaped eyes.

The energy in the bar shifts when the three stand together. Darkness wafts around them. An intimidating, radioactive something that could set off fire alarms.

The jerk looks nervous. For a second, he hesitates, shoulders ramping up, chin trembling.

One.

Two.

The face-off doesn’t get to three seconds.

Scowling, the jerk drops his grip and stumbles to the exits, muttering ‘she’s not worth it’ under his breath.

The three strangers watch him leave with hawk-like stares.

“Thank you,” I say, easing my purse over my shoulder.

The newcomer with the beautiful almond-shaped eyes stalks off, looking annoyed. The blond guy taps my rescuer on the shoulder. They exchange a loaded nod before he walks off too, blending into the darkness.

“You okay?” the stranger asks.

I nod.

There are so many words in the English language. With all the books I’ve read, you’d think I’d have a better grasp of them. But I’m drawing a blank.

The bartender arrives with my card.

I take it and slip it in my purse.

“Are you leaving?” The stranger looks at me.

I chew on my bottom lip. The smart thing to do is go home to my empty apartment. I have a flight tomorrow. I have my new job on Monday.

Something deep in my chest stops me.

Tonight, we’re being more like her. We’re being brave, remember?

I reclaim my seat. “I could use another drink.”