Ruined

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jax

I hadn’t moved since I set Sam down on Kelly’s couch. For a minute I thought about snapping the cuffs into place, just as a precaution, but changed my mind. I’d just stay alert. Watch for signs that something was wrong.

It wasn’t a long wait. Less than twenty minutes later, she shifted and slowly opened her eyes. “Jax?”

“I’m right here,” I said, kneeling beside the couch. “How do you feel?”

She pulled herself into a sitting position and tilted her head to stretch out her neck. “Sort of like someone used my head as a golf ball. All of a sudden I was so tired. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.” Sam hesitated. Several puffs of gray rose from her shoulders. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think we can say without a shadow of a doubt that, yes, I’m linked to this thing…”

“What happened?”

“It was there…the demon. Inside my head. I could feel it.” She shuddered. “It spoke to me.”

Fuck. “You heard its voice?”

“Yeah. Right before I passed out. But it’s not all bad… It told me to come to the club tonight. We know where it’ll be.”

Five hours later, we were at the back door to the Viking. I hated this plan, but we were running out of time. Chase had called. He was still up at Huntington, but so far, hadn’t had any luck.

Sam’s plan to trap the demon by using herself as bait made me itch in my skin. Azirak, too. But we were out of options. “Let’s go over it one more time,” I whispered.

“Yes, Mom,” Sam replied with a roll of her eyes. She was still tired, but seemed to hum with a renewed sense of energy. “I’m going to stroll in there as though nothing’s wrong and do my job. Sling a little brew. Flirt with some guys. At the first hint of trouble, I’m going to give you the signal.”

“And the signal?”

She puckered her lips.”I’m going to blow a kiss to one of the customers.”

I nodded. I’d have eyes on her every moment we were in there. Nothing to worry about. That’s what I kept telling myself. But even Azirak wasn’t convinced. The demon churned and shifted, uneasy about the whole thing.

Heckle had called earlier with an update. While he hadn’t found a more optimal way to break the link, he did say he was on the trail of something that might dampen it to the point that it wouldn’t be an issue. He reinforced that we should still keep trying to find the demon Sam was linked to.

“Can I go in now? I can’t afford to be late. I refuse to move back in with Kelly, so if I lose my job, I’m heading downtown to turn tricks…” She did a little twirl. “And looking like this, there’s a good chance I’d starve.”

“Go,” I said, pulling open the door and trying hard not to stare. She wore jeans this time around, with a tight black tank top with the Viking logo on the front. I wondered what it’d feel like to slide my fingers beneath the hem and work my way slowly up her back. Azirak ran with the spark of lust, and flashed a scene inside my head. I had Sam pinned beneath me, against the hood of Rick’s car. My hands were sandwiched between the soft, thin material of her shirt and her warm silky skin, the subtle thumping of her heart under my fingers. She moaned, arching off the hood and into me as my body responded, the need to take her, to possess her, hitting me with feral veracity.

“But be careful,” I finished, shaking my head to clear away the scene. Not the right time for that.

It wouldn’t ever be the right time for that.

I’d been standing by the railing on the second floor for almost two hours now. I was beginning to give up hope when the cell rang. If not for the demon, I never would have heard it above the nose in the club. I reached into my pocket and flipped it open. “Yeah?”

“Jax, I think I got him.”

I held my free hand up to drown out some of the noise. “Chase? What do you mean?”

“The bastard that hurt Samantha. I think it’s a demon going by the name of Hank Sutton. He’s the TA from her history class.”

“What makes you think he’s our guy?”

“He was seen with a girl who went missing a month earlier. Several people also saw him leave the party right behind Sam. He’s a regular at the Viking. He’s actually—”

“Going to be there tonight,” I said. “We know. We’re there now. Sam’s working and I’m keeping watch. Anything else?”

“I can text you a picture of the guy. That help?”

“Do it.” I hung up without another word as the music changed from techno dance to a hypnotic rhythm that had couples swarming the dance floor below. A moment later, the phone beeped. Chase’s text. On the small screen was a picture of a tall, lanky guy with wild, curly hair and an eerie grin. Fucking great. We were looking for a dorkier, demonic version of Carrot Top.

I scanned the room. Sam was on the other side flashing a flirty smile to a couple of college boys. It was still early, but the club was full of life and the bar crowded. There was no sign of Sutton. What was I supposed to do with the demon if he showed up? Wrestle him out to the car and lock him in the trunk? Someone would call the cops, and with my reputation, I wouldn’t be given a chance to explain—not that I could come up with a reasonable explanation for stuffing someone in a trunk. Not reasonable to the rest of the world, anyway.

Song after song, the dance floor hummed with electricity as bodies thrashed to the music. I watched the crowd, searching for anyone resembling Sutton, but there was no one. I pinched the bridge of my nose. There was too much crap in the air and it was giving me a headache. Perfume, alcohol, and emotion—thanks to Azirak, everything spun in a sickly swirl. Giving up on the balcony, I made my way to the stairs and across the room to the bar.

“Hey stranger. What’ll it be?” Sam said with a grin. She leaned forward, bending low enough to give me an unintentional view down her shirt. My pulse quickened and I had to force myself to stay in place instead of moving forward to meet her. “Chase called a little while ago. Says he thinks the demon’s name is Hank Sutton. Sound familiar?”

“Oh my God. Seriously? He was the TA at Huntington. Is he positive? Hank seemed so…normal.”

“He’s pretty sure. Is there anything you can tell me about him? Anything that might help pick him out in a crowd? Chase sent a picture but…” But Sam wasn’t listening anymore. She was staring over my shoulder, at the bar. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s him. Hank. He’s here.”