28. Looks That Kill

It's been a week since I received my little present. A whole damn week, I've been forced to sit and stare at my almost one-night stand in this urn of ashes, waiting for my next opportunity to push Dr. Death a little further. If he doesn't want me bringing other men home, then he should stop hiding. Until that happens, I will keep toeing that thin line of self-control he has until it fully snaps.

I requested the city reroute their deceased to the next county over again so I could take the night off again. I'm still toying with the idea of selling this place or, at the very least, resigning from my position as the district's coroner. Maybe I will take a laid-back approach and work beneath someone else to take more time for myself. This wasn't something my parents had to worry about since they had each other. However, their legacy no longer holds the appeal that it once did. It has withered away into dust, just like my parents. I've finally discovered there are more thrilling avenues in life than following in others' footsteps.

But what's next?

Instead of figuring that out, I'm standing here examining a strand of my newly darkened hair to distract myself from the real dilemma of deciding my direction in life.

"What do you think, Egor? Should I change my nails to a bluish color to match my hair?"

He yips from his spot at my feet, happy with anything I decide. When I got this box color dye, I thought it would be plain black. The manufacturer had to mess it up with a blue tone. Now, the killer look I was going for is ruined.

"Ugh," I groan at my reflection.

Egor stands, ready to follow me before I've even decided to take a step. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes.

"You're so right," I say, patting my fluff ball on the head, "I don't think it will matter to him. He's seen me in every vulnerable way possible on a corpse. What's a little hair color change and nail polish."

"Woof," Egor adds.

"Thanks, buddy," I say before heading into the night.

I'm hoping he doesn't notice me first, because this time I'm not waiting for him to find me. Instead, I'm gunning for him.

Walkingpast the small local shops and the old metal yard on the strip, a car slows beside me. The whir of a window being lowered causes me to pause. I glance over my shoulder with a hot air balloon of hope in my chest that quickly deflates.

"Hey, hot stuff. Got a boyfriend?"

Boyfriend?This gives me visions of Johnny and his hardened cock, but then that morphs into Dr. King, who fucks me better than any fantasy I can conjure. We never established our relationship, so fuck if I know if I have a boyfriend. "Kinda?"

The man's brows bunched in concern, almost as if he felt bad for me. "Are you okay?"

Am I okay? I take a step back at his question. How do I respond to that? My flesh burns from where his gaze scans me, checking me out. The gentle tone of his voice is the opposite of the ravenous look in his eyes. I want him to stop. Stop looking at me. Stop talking to me.

I've never been in a situation where a guy stops me on the street to check me out, and I have no idea what to do. How to make it stop? Then, a light bulb goes off, and I decide on a response that I think will make this guy leave me alone. "I'm fine, buthe can't live without me."

He smirks. Which is different from what I was expecting. "Why don't you hop in? We can go to dinner, and I'll buy you a cup of coffee. You can tell me all about it."

What is up with this guy? Can't he take a hint? I scan my surroundings. No one else is walking this strip, and no cars are piling up behind him. Where are the random horns blaring when you need them?

I chew on my lip, trying to come up with something good, and I remember Jax over me, covered in blood, and the caution tape over the clinic doors. The words just blurt from my mouth. "I legally can not discuss anything related to the case as it's still under investigation."

The man's eyes grow as round as saucers. "Um, well. Ah. It looks like I need to get home. You. Um. Have a good one," Somehow, he manages to string a sentence together while being polite and obviously slightly disturbed.

Once I'm alone again, the bubbles in my stomach fizz into my chest, which turns into me holding my stomach while I break into weird, hysterical laughter. That's one way to get rid of unwanted attention.

There's only a short distance past the remaining shops, most of which have their gates pulled down. It's not long before the music is vibrating through the atmosphere. This is later than I arrived last time, that's for sure. People don't rush past me to enter the warehouse building with its neon flashing lights.

A couple stumbles out, flinging the door open as I walk up. I catch the edge before It swings shut. The guy apologizes for not holding it open for me while the female giggles and wraps her arms around his neck. The corner of my lip tips up at them. A part of me wants what they have. That freedom to love with no barriers, no qualms. Fearless in a way. And in public.

Taking the first step in the room past the threshold, the bass pounds against my chest. I stride to the bar packed with people like it was the night I was here. Once there's a parting in the tide, I wedge myself between two taller men. They must be used to being bumped into because neither pays me any mind, and they continue their conversation. Scanning my surroundings further, I focus on a blonde bearded man with a tattooed forearm that's resting on the bar top. His face is obscured by the bodies crammed together, but I'm almost positive it's Finn.

"What can I get for you?" I can barely hear over the music. Swiveling my head toward the voice, I'm met with a warm smile and amber eyes. Her brow perks up encouragingly when all I do is stare. "Are you okay?" She yells slightly louder.

I shake my head, trying to unlodge whatever has my mouth stuck shut. I'm at a loss for words and entirely out of my element. I've never ordered a drink from a bar before. At the risk of looking foolish, I take the plunge and ask, "What would you recommend?"

That does the trick because she flashes me a megawatt smile, washing away the awkward tension surrounding me. Then, she holds up one finger before racing to the other end of the bar.

While she's off making my first drink ever, I glance back over to where I saw Finn, but he's gone. Damn it. Since he keeps tabs on everyone, I thought he could be of some assistance in finding Jax.

"Here, you go." I hear before the cool plastic of the solo cup brushes my knuckles. "It's my own concoction. I hope you enjoy!"

"Thanks." I pull a twenty out of my bra and slide it to her before picking up the drink. "Keep the change."

She thanked me before picking up the bill and moving to the next customer. Turning from the bar, I take a sip of the tea-colored liquid. It's strong. The alcohol hits me, burning a trail of fire down my throat that warms me from the inside out. What's left on my tongue has the sweet aftertaste of apple pie.

The music hits with a steady beat and dips down before it explodes into an even louder volume. People scream and cheer. As it dips again, people jump in time with the melody.

"They call this house music," a masculine voice whispers in my ear.

A shiver races down my spine at the close contact, but it doesn't have the familiar heaviness that Dr. Death possesses. I turn to see the young DJ from the other night.

"I didn't think this was your scene," he states, recalling our interaction.

"I didn't think it was either, but," I lift my plastic cup in the air, "here I am."

He flashes me a smile. "Yes, you are." He moves in closer and snakes his arm around my side, drawing me in closer. "I was hoping I could catch a glimpse of you again." He moves my hair off my shoulder, sending another electric current down my spine. The light touch sends a tremble through my muscles. "This color suits you," he whispers in my ear.

My stomach flips, and my eyes burn because my only thought is that I had to change myself to garner someone's attention instead of being myself. Regardless of the physical reaction my body has to his intimate touch, I want to push him away. Scream at the top of my lungs in fury at the outcome of my life. I've resorted to chasing after a man who only wants to own me, and now I'm here with a man who likes me better now that I've changed in a way that's more appealing to him. Wasn't I good enough before?

"Thanks," I say offhandedly, gulping down a huge swig of the perfumey liquid.

The drink burns another trail of fire, this time to my chest. I cover my mouth with my forearm as violent coughs rack my body. After blinking away tears, I straighten my back, but my head spins slightly. I would have taken a tumble if it weren't for Zack. I really am a lightweight.

Gripping my sides, his fingers dig into my flesh. Once I'm somewhat stable, he pulls me into his side and says, "Whoa, there." My drink is stolen from my hand, and he takes a whiff. His nose scrunches before handing it back to me. "Take it easy with Silvia's cocktails. She makes this stuff at home, and it's extra potent."

I believe him. I know he's right, too, because my body is fluid only after a few swallows, swaying to the beat. This may have been a bad idea, but I'm happy for the reprieve from my life. Jax isn't here, but Zack is. And Zack wants me. I have to play games for Jax to show up. Why can't he be normal in this aspect? Why do I have to chase him around like kids on a playground? I wrap my arms around my new friend's neck. His scent of musk and leather pulls me in like a lure.

Gazing up at him from beneath my lashes, I plea, "Will you help me forget?"

And as if he knows everything I'm trying to convey without words, he huskily whispers, "Yes."

Then his lips are on mine.