City of Angels, Devil's Runway

Los Angeles is a far cry from the City of Angels at 2 AM. Fallen angels, maybe. Vampires wouldn’t be surprising.

The pulsing blare of nightclub strobe lights follows me out into the dank alley until the slimy shadows blot out the gaudy neons. The heels of my fringed ankle boots crunch over gravel, trash, and other questionable substances as I pace back and forth across the tight alley. A chilly October wind howls, raising goosebumps on my bare arms despite my skin sweaty from my snug leather corset on the humid dance floor. Nerves already frayed, I try not to jump at every figure that manifests in the corners: a stoned, drunk, or perfectly sober couple hellbent on making bad choices stumbling out of the club with minimal space between them. In the darkness, it’s hard to see my watch but I still know I’ve been waiting for too long.

He said 1:30. Behind The Devil’s Runway club. Come alone, leave the goon squad behind, though he must know backup is right inside the club. The money’s in my purse. $2000, unmarked, nonsequential small bills. I’d expected he’d ask for more, given what the information is worth. Already, I'm on high alert.

“Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”

With a startled gasp, I whirl around. So much for high alert.

As if appearing from smoke and thin air, a man stands at the end of the alley. He’s all sharp lines and angles, broad shoulders and long legs. Cloaked in darkness, I can’t make out any of his features besides his purposeful gait. Hard to tell if he’s my point of contact or a lurking creeper. Planting a firm hand on my hip, my fingers splay towards the revolver hidden behind my back.

“You told me to be, didn’t you?” I decide to take the risk and challenge.

He steps closer; my fingers inch closer in response.

“Indeed I did.” His silhouette sharpens, the pristine lines of his body taking on familiar shape. That lazy slouch, those narrow hips, that crooked nose. The curves and contours of a body I know so well that it’s almost painful to look at him. With a swallowed cry, I force myself not to be so stupid as to shut my eyes. But it hurts as those golden orbs crash into mine as his lips kick up with a smirk.

“Hello, Amber. Or do you go by a different name these days?”

I know the shock is evident on my slack-jawed face and I can’t help how breathless my voice sounds when I whisper, “Jared.”

Bitter, intimate, tender, tangled memories rush to my head, momentarily making me dizzy. In a split-second, Jared is back at my side, his arms ever stable around me once again, holding me up.

“You’re losing your edge, sweetheart,” his liquid voice purrs into my ear and I notice the subtle shift in my weight a moment too late, his nimble fingers plucking the revolver from behind my back and his hypnotic smirk never once faltering.

I stumble back a step, disarmed by him in more ways than one. “You snake!”

He laughs heartily, thoroughly amused. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the woman who double crossed me.”

Suddenly, I’m back in that motel room, the headlights from the getaway Silverado that just pulled into the parking lot flicking twice into our room signaling for me to go before the approaching red and blue sirens arrived, thankfully not waking a sleeping Jared with a green striped blanket covering his hips, messy hair falling into peacefully closed eyes, his wallet, keys – along with the one to the storage locker he told me about in a moment of blind trust – and 14K white gold ring fashioned into a bird’s claw already stuffed into the pockets of my denim jacket as I soundlessly snuck out of the room.

Five months later, back in front of him, the betrayal in his eyes I knew I’d find if he’d open them that night burns even brighter now, a vow of revenge and hatred searing gold. And now he’s the one assigned to help me? Impossible.

“It can’t be you,” I don’t even register saying the words, just the satisfied shake of his head he gives. “It can’t- you couldn’t have gotten out already if they caught you.”

“Who said they caught me? Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

His fingers tighten around my waist just hard enough to elicit a yelp of pleasure from me that I try to smother down. Given how I ended things, he probably wishes it were my throat instead, and I stagger back until I hit the wall behind me. I must look like a crazed, caged animal, my nails digging into the brick, curling into claws, ready to pounce.

“What do you want?” my voice sounds like a feral hiss, almost lost to the drone of the bassline from the club.

“For starters, the $2000 I asked for, though we both know what you stole was worth a lot more than that.”

I dig through my handbag and all but throw the money packet at him, my trembling hands affecting my aim but he snatches it easily out of the air anyway before it can hit a nearby puddle. He riffles through the cash before tucking it into the pocket of his snug black jeans.

“Good. Now, follow me.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’m not following you,” I cross my arms defiantly, though my legs are like jelly.

Jared runs a hand through his chestnut tresses that have grown nearly to his shoulder since the last time I saw him – I swallow the lump in my throat as I remember how silky those strands slipped between my fingers.

“Last I checked, darling, the only other guy who has access to the vault is a grumpy, 65-year-old security guard with chronic kidney disease, and I doubt you’ll seduce him as easily as you did me. Besides, you don’t really want to do this job via … official … channels, or have you forgotten my nimble fingers so quickly?”

“Nothing too memorable about them,” I lie straight through my gritted teeth, a shimmer coating my skin against all willpower.

Jared notices, smug smirk gracing those arrogant, full lips again. “You were a much better liar before, doll. Now, take your pick. I haven’t got all night.”

Stubbornly, I scuff my shoe against the asphalt but have to give in with a harsh sigh. “Fine. Lead the way. But give me my gun back first.”

“Why? You plannin’ on shooting me in the back as well as stabbing me like last time?”

“Something like that.”

He ponders that for a moment, then shrugs nonchalantly. “Works for me. At least I know the terms up front this time. But you’re not getting your gun back. End of discussion, so save your pleading: it won’t work this time. Either follow me or get your pretty little behind back into the club with your tail between your legs to tell your boss you blew your only lead. Your choice.”

He knows I have no choice. Alfie won’t let me lead another heist if I botch this one up – it’s too important, and he won’t care that I’m his best asset. As much as I hate giving into Jared the slightest bit, the reasonable part of my mind tells me to yield this one time or I’ll get nowhere. I need him now. Further down the line, I’ll bury him so deep he’ll never climb his way out … but that day’s not today.

Straightening up, I start to sail past him out of the alley. “You better not be all talk and no action.”

A few strides of his long legs later, he catches up to me on the sidewalk, his hand meeting the small of my back. He dips his head so that his hair grazes my shoulder and his voice caresses my ear. “Sweetheart, you know all about my action. Save your threats for someone who doesn’t know you as … thoroughly … as I do.”

My heeled boots click louder on the pavement as I pick up my pace.

“Which way?” I ask curtly, coming to an intersection.

Jared’s golden eyes gleam wickedly. “I think you should get another tattoo.”

“What?”

“It’ll make a lovely addition to your existing collection,” his hand trails down my waist to a certain name written permanently under my clothes I haven’t had the heart to remove or ink over; as against all logic I lean into his touch, I just know that tattoo is going to come back to bite me in the same place it’s located.

I’m about to gather my senses and ask what that has to do with anything when Jared already abandons me, strolling down the sidewalk towards the tattoo parlor still open at this hour for questionable, drunken decisions. Hurrying after him, I huff, “I am not seriously getting another tattoo.”

“Yes, you are,” he says pointedly and I notice that he takes me around the back alley to where a pile of discarded cardboard boxes conceals a grate that he easily pops off its hinges – damn, those nimble fingers indeed – revealing a tunnel.

My eyes widen in understanding and Jared snickers at my delayed reaction.

“Wow, that only took you a hot minute. In you go, princess.”

I study him warily, suspicions immediately ramped back up. “I’m not going first.”

Jared rolls his eyes, even more luminous in the neon bulbs around us. “It’s not a trap. Alfie won’t pay me the rest that he promised me if something happens to you, so above all, you should remember that I am a greedy man.”

“Oh, that I remember perfectly,” I mumble and take immense pleasure that this time, it’s his cheeks that flush red.

Not wasting any more time persuading me otherwise, he jumps into the tunnel first, landing quickly with an agile thump. “See? Still alive. Your turn, princess,” his voice echoes from the short distance underground. “And remember I can see up your skirt.”

Swearing with a grumble, I crouch down to the open grate, ready to descend. Before I disappear after Jared though, I fumble with the latch of my necklace, the pendant hidden under my shirt until now. The 14K white gold bird’s claw gleams in the nightlight.

My fingers shaky and my heart thrashing, I make my choice.

I hurl the pendant into the darkness of the alley.

I’m already underground without a second glance back before I can hear where it landed.