Page 6 of Too Cursed To Kiss
She looked up and came over. “You okay, Harlan?” she shouted, pushing a pad at me.
“Still alive,” I yelled back, scrawling out the order.
Jules finished filling a beer and slid my cell at me. “You don’t look so good. Why not take a load off, and I’ll call you?” She nodded at the booths.
“How long for this?” I shouted over the music.
She flashed six sets of five fingers. Thirty minutes.
I gave her the thumbs-up and slunk back to Tyre’s booth. My phone showed a call and a text from the police department. Even focusing on the shattered screen was too much effort, so there was no way I was dealing with cops. I threw the phone back into my purse and put my head down on the table like it was pre-school nap time.
CHAPTER FOUR
When I raised my head, the band was still playing. Damp hair was plastered to the side of my face. I ripped the elastic out of my hair, then reached for my purse.
My hand landed on silky velvet. I yelped. Mr. Clove-smoke was sitting at the edge of the booth, but he was wearing a leather jacket. What had I touched?
“Jeezus. You scared the shit out of me.”
He slid his chalk-white hand into a leather glove while I stared at him. His one-sided smile was the kind that would lead me into an alley.
“Open it,” he said, nodding at my purse, his face all hard lines and unyielding smoothness. He leaned over and awkwardly nudged my bag across the slick surface of the table with the now-gloved hand. I stared at it, then looked back at him.
Ordering my shreds of thought, I reached for the purse. Sizzling sparks arced to my hand. “Jeezus. What in the ninehells was that?” I asked, examining my unblemished skin for burns.
“Interesting term.”
“Old obsession with Dante. Did you see that?” The purse’s black leather looked normal and so did the silver buckle with its well-earned dent from decking a handsy asshole a couple of years ago.
Reaching out with tentative fingers, like it was some alien creature, I touched the purse again. Silver sparks crackled, and I yanked my hand back. “What the actual fuck? You saw it that time, right?” His damn sunglasses blocked his reaction.
Screw it.
Heart pounding, I grabbed the purse and clicked the clasp open with visions of it exploding or bursting into flame. But there wasn’t one spark.
Clove-smoke grinned. “Good. Now, hand me the package.” His accented words clipped.
“What package?” I replied coyly. The tape around the ring stuck to a tissue, and when I yanked it out, the package bounced, then rolled across the table. Inside, a red glow pulsed like a heartbeat. He reached for it.
I clamped his gloved hand down on the table a millimeter short of him touching the taped packet. “Not so fast. How’d you know I had that?”
“It was missing.” His accent turned S’s into Z’s and W’s into V’s, and his angled jaw clenched tightly as if he were grinding his teeth. The effect was more attractive than I could currently process and made him even more spectacularly annoying.
“You mean you taped it there yourself?”
“Something like that,” he replied with his crooked smile.
I squirmed, sorting through hazy thoughts, distracted bymy unsettled stomach. “First things first.” I snatched the ring back. “Either you’re stalking me, or we are having one of those everything-is-a-coincidence nights. So far I’ve thrown up on you and walked in on you having some kind of questionable hookup. Now, I really need to know who the hell you are, what this thing is, why you want it—and why you’ve been fondling my purse?” I shoved the taped package back into my purse and clicked it closed.
His lush lips opened to answer, and I held up a hand. “Wait. The glasses have to come off first. Wearing mirrored sunglasses at night is damned strange, besides the fact that the reflection is making me nauseous, so it’s for your own good.”
He didn’t move. I lowered my voice. “Either take them off, or I’ll do it for you.”
He flashed a tight smile turning his jaw to steel. “I’d like to see you try,” he said, leaning back.
Now I’d have to make good or look like an ass. I lunged at him, and he grabbed my wrist. His grip was iron, completely immobilizing it. With my left hand, I took a swipe at his glasses. In one smooth grab, he pinned that wrist too.
I twisted, but the cold hardness of him was…Well, damn.
