Alena

 

Was it weird, wanting him to stay with me? I hated the thought of him leaving. When we were together, it felt like there was a bubble around us. I didn’t want it to burst.

 

I didn’t dare say anything about wanting him to hang around, or act too clingy. I didn’t want him to regret spending the day with me, and I sure as hell didn’t want him to think I was the sort of girl who started planning the wedding after one night together. In any other situation, I wouldn’t be acting this way. I wasn’t normally the type to hang around a guy’s neck. I hated women like that. I was strong on my own.

 

He made it seem normal for me to break every rule I had. I even considered bailing on my gig just so I’d have an excuse to keep him around. I never, ever missed a gig unless I was on the verge of death and couldn’t sit up straight.

 

Was this how Sara had felt back when I was begging her to break her ties to the club? Like nothing else mattered except the person she was with, whoever they were? At first, I’d been angry, telling myself she was smarter than that. Now I felt a sympathy for her I hadn’t felt back then. No wonder she was so dead set on ignoring every one of my pleas.

 

I remembered her sitting at the kitchen table, arms crossed. She wouldn’t look me in the eye. I’d asked her who, exactly, she was involved with. She had mentioned names before, random club members, but had never told me who she was most closely involved with. I knew she was afraid I’d go after him, and she wasn’t wrong. I would have, just the way I went to Cole when I found out it was him the neighbors saw her talking with before she disappeared. Nothing would have stopped me from going after what was best for her.

 

She’d been so stubborn, I could have screamed. I might have screamed a little, come to think of it, out of sheer frustration. It had been like talking to a brick wall.

 

“What’s so special about these people?” I’d asked, standing by the sink. I’d been fixing lunch for us, and had lost my temper. My hand had slammed on the counter, and I’d spun around to face her. She hadn’t looked at me.

 

“You wouldn’t understand,” she’d muttered. I wouldn’t have, either. I needed to experience it for myself. Now that I had, I got it. I doubted any other man in that club was the sort of man Cole was—there was a reason he was the leader—but maybe my sister had found some little measure of the attraction I now felt whenever my eyes met his, or whenever he was near me. We were total opposites, but didn’t opposites attract? It was a fact. Something that couldn’t be fought. Just like I couldn’t fight the way my hands ached to touch Cole when he was anywhere near me.

 

I was lost in thought when he came into the room. My eyes went to him, and every other thought was swept away by the sight of his body. My mouth went dry.

 

“The shower was pretty lonely without you,” he said, smirking.

 

“I don’t know if I could handle a shower with you right now,” I replied. “My poor body can only take so much.” Still, an ache started between my legs, and I wished I’d showered with him after all. Something told me we’d have done anything but wash up.

 

He came close to me, taking my waist in his hands. “I’ll tell you what your body can take,” he growled, pressing himself against me. I loved the feeling that he could overtake me whenever he wanted. It wasn’t a scary thought—I trusted he wouldn’t hurt or take advantage. It was exciting. I wanted to see how far he would go.

 

But this time, he didn’t go anywhere. Just like he’d left me panting for more at the bar when he kissed me, he left me leaning into him now. He pulled away, that sexy grin on his face. He knew he had me right where he wanted me, the snide little jerk.

 

“Fine, then,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders and gently pushing him away. “See if I care.” I turned away.

 

“Oh, you don’t like that, huh?”

 

“I don’t care either way,” I said, shrugging.

 

“Liar. Anyway, I’m in a hurry.” I heard him laugh as he was getting dressed.

 

Let him laugh, I thought, picking out something to wear for my gig. Then I started taking off my clothes slowly, with my back to him. That shut him up. I pretended I didn’t notice.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked, and I heard the tightness in his throat.

 

“Getting ready for a shower,” I said innocently. “I have a gig tonight, remember?” I was down to my panties and nothing else. I hooked my thumbs under the elastic and slowly bent at the waist until the silky fabric was at my ankles. I couldn’t hear him breathing anymore.

 

Then I stood, quickly pulling a robe around me. When I turned, I saw he was frozen, slack-jawed.

 

“You okay?” I brushed past him, looking for something in my dresser. I glanced at him, saw how he didn’t move. “Aren’t you in a hurry?” I asked.

 

“Oh, yeah.” He finished dressing and grabbed his kutte. I walked him downstairs, opening the door for him. Before he left, he looked me up and down one more time. I felt a tingle run through me. He might have had me where he wanted me, but I knew I had him in a bind, too. The look in his eye told me so, like a wolf looking at a lamb.

 

“I’ll give you a call,” he said. I wondered what that meant to him. Every guy said it, like it was what they thought they were supposed to say once they slept with a woman. Especially when they left in a hurry, the way he was now. Like it made things better when they promised to call.

 

When he ran his hand over me one more time, though, I thought he meant it. Even the gentlest caress made me think of sparks flying from his fingers into my body. He lit me up, and he couldn’t have if he wasn’t just as attracted to me as I was to him. He would call me. He couldn’t stay away anymore than I could.

 

“I’ll wait by my phone,” I murmured, looking into his eyes.

 

He laughed. “Smart ass.” He left then, rushing out to his bike. I knew he’d lingered longer than he should have, though he never did tell me what the big hurry was. As I watched, I hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble for taking his time with me. I was sure his guys wouldn’t take any excuse having to do with me very well. I thought about the one who held the knife to me, in particular.

 

I shuddered, remembering the trouble I was potentially getting myself into. I’d forgotten about my friend with the knife until just now. I leaned against the doorframe, my arms around me to keep from shivering. Cole was long gone, but I still felt his touch all over me. He’d branded me. I was his. But that knife against my throat was something I still felt, too.

 

It never occurred to me until just now that our involvement could get him into trouble, too. I didn’t know how things went in clubs like his, but if enough people were against him, couldn’t they overthrow him or something? I couldn’t imagine it would be done diplomatically, either. If I was a threat to them, would they hurt him for bringing me closer?

 

I shook my head, determined to get rid of the thoughts which were spiraling out of control in my head. Overthinking wasn’t getting me anywhere. I closed the front door, closing the door to all thoughts of Cole’s club as I did.

 

###

 

I finished playing the final song of my set, and everyone in the bar stood to applaud. It was such a rush knowing that I’d touched people even for a short time. I knew I wasn’t the best piano player, and my voice wasn’t that great, but I’d heard many times that I had a natural talent for finding what was beneath a lyric and bringing it out. People seemed to respond to that.

 

I almost never went straight home after a gig, choosing to hang out for a while at the bar so I could unwind a bit. Sometimes I met an interesting man when I did. Sometimes he would offer to buy me a drink. Sometimes I would accept.

 

That night was no exception. Within a minute of my sitting down with a bottle of water, I heard a voice at my left shoulder. “Could I buy you a drink, to thank you for that amazing set you just played?”

 

I looked up at him and smiled. He was cute—very, very cute. Tall, blond, built like a linebacker. He had a killer smile and nearly sapphire-blue eyes.

 

Ordinarily, I’d have given him my order without hesitation. He was gorgeous! We would have flirted, and if I liked him, I might have taken him home with me. At least, I would have accepted the drink and struck up a conversation.

 

I wasn’t feeling it though. “Thanks anyway,” I said. “I’d love to get to know you, but I don’t know that I’m accepting drinks tonight.”

 

“That’s okay—maybe next time,” he said. He was a good sport, I had to give him that. He extended a hand to shake. “I’m Chris. Hopefully I’ll see you here again.”

 

“Yeah, I play here twice a week,” I replied. “I hope you come back to see me.” He went back to where a group of men stood.

 

“What’s wrong with you tonight?” I looked over at the bartender, who had heard every word of what just went down. “Or are you dating somebody and didn’t want to tell him so?”

 

I chuckled self-consciously. “I’m not dating anyone. I’m just not up for that tonight. You know, the whole cat-and-mouse game. It takes more energy than I have right now.”

 

“Cat and mouse? Please, girl, he was ready to be trapped.”

 

I laughed at her, but I knew she was serious. He wanted to go home with me. What was wrong with that? If anything, judging from the way he dressed and the nice watch on his wrist, he would have been ideal boyfriend material—if it worked out that way.

 

But I hadn’t been willing to give it a chance, and I knew why. Cole was all I could think about. Every love song I’d sung that night, I’d sung with him in mind. Every upbeat tune made me think of the times we’d laughed together. Every sad song made me think of the stories he’d told me from when he was an unhappy kid. It was all about him.

 

What sort of spell had he put me under? For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t even like we were dating, and I was turning down the offer of a drink. Would he have done the same if he were in my shoes? I didn’t think so, not if his reputation had a grain of truth to it. He’d bedded more women than I wanted to think about. Why would he stop now?

 

So why was I faithful to him? Why did I care? Because I knew that no matter how good any other guy was, he wouldn’t hold a candle to Cole. I’d be comparing every man to him for the rest of my life, and I’d always be disappointed. I didn’t want anyone else.

 

There was more to it than just sex. I didn’t feel a spark with that random guy, no matter how gorgeous. With Cole, I’d felt it right away, no doubt about it. I had wanted him even as I hated him and wanted to see him and his club go down for what happened to Sara. I’d felt drawn to him from that first moment. Nothing could touch that either.

 

It looked like I’d be doomed to want him for the rest of my life, or at least until someone better came along.

 

Lucky for me, a few regulars came over to say hello. They were here for most of my gigs, and we’d struck up a casual friendship. It was nice to laugh with them for an hour or so. It took my mind off of the mess my life was becoming.

 

I was almost feeling lighthearted when I left the bar, and that familiar flash of guilt washed over me, just as it had in the morning when I felt guilty for being happy. What right did I have to be happy when my sister was suffering? Maybe this was the same sort of guilt people always went through after losing a loved one. But I didn’t want to believe she was gone. Shouldn’t I be devoting every spare second of my time and energy to finding her? What right did I have to be happy?

 

I was still going over this in my head when I reached my car, and was so deep in thought that it took a moment to register what I was seeing. Big, angry red letters on my windshield in what I first thought was blood but realized was spray paint.

 

STOP LOOKING OR YOU’LL END UP LIKE YOUR SISTER

 

I froze, terrified, gasping for breath. My heart stopped for a second, then picked up like a speeding train. I thought I might be sick.

 

Once I could move again, my head swiveled from side to side. Who did this? Were they watching? I didn’t want them to see they’d scared me, but something told me my face gave me away. I looked at all the nearby cars but didn’t see anyone. They could have been hiding anywhere. I was totally exposed.

 

I ran back to the bar, clawing through my bag for my phone as I did. I cowered in the entryway, panting for breath, and called Cole. He was the only person I could imagine reaching out to, the only one who could protect me when I was so terrified.

 

“Cole!” My voice shook so badly, I could hardly speak.

 

“Alena? Is that you?”

 

“Y-yes,” I managed to gasp. There were tears on my cheeks—how had they gotten there? When had I started crying?

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“My c-car! Someone…spray painted…”

 

“Slow down. Breathe. Tell me what’s happening.” His voice was sharp, commanding. Something about it snapped me out of my panic.

 

“Someone spray painted my windshield. Stop looking or I’ll end up like my sister.” There was no forgetting those words. They burned into my brain. I knew I would see them when I closed my eyes to sleep that night—or tried to sleep.

 

He was silent, so silent I thought I’d lost him. “Cole?”

 

“I’m here.” Now he was angry, his voice a bark. It made me cringe. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

 

I wasn’t going to argue. I was too happy to wait for him. I sat on a little bench by the front door where I could see the parking lot. My car was visible, just barely. Who had done it? A club member, I was sure. The one with the knife? Probably. Though spray paint seemed a little tame for him. I hadn’t checked to see if the vandal had slashed my tires—if they had, I’d know it was him for sure.

 

No matter who did it, they were serious. Following me around, intimidating me. I couldn’t go anywhere to get away from them.

 

Then the message behind the words filtered through the noise in my head. I’d end up like my sister.

 

What had they done to her? How had she ended up? Oh, my God. Did this mean she was dead? It couldn’t mean anything else. I leaned my head against the wall, sobs wracking me. I didn’t care who saw or heard me. My sorrow was too heavy to keep hidden. Sara. My Sara. There was no way for me to help her, now.

 

Had she been afraid in those last moments? Had she wished she’d listened to me? My poor girl.