Pledge of Ashes Read online

  Feeling the buzz in her back pocket, Syd pulled out her phone. Nina’s text was pleading. Still coming, right? I’m @ the bar. Syd stared a moment more and put the phone away.

  So here she was. Attempting the friend thing. Syd rolled her shoulders.

  She closed her eyes and drew her mental wall around her, thick like a shield. If she were the praying type, now would be the time. Instead, she shook out her hands and willed her feet forward. The club’s scarred oak door was cold in her grip. She pulled and was assaulted by the beating sounds, alcoholic vapor, and the sensual movement of sex-about-to-happen on the dance floor.

  Syd pushed forward, jostling as little as possible, but making slow progress nonetheless. A waitress with a skimpy outfit and bored expression split the crowd, and Syd made use of the trail she left.

  A shiver of apprehension traveled through her, and she stalled, losing her path. People brushed at her from all sides, and her breath hitched.

  She double-checked the lock on her mind, defied the warning bells in her head. Syd wouldn’t stand up Nina for some weird psychic social anxiety. She’d said she’d go out, and she would. Step by step, inch by inch, her intuition, the part of herself she understood least, fought her.

  She glanced down at her deep-red polished nails with a bit of grease around the edges that wouldn’t come out for anything. Man, she wished she had stayed in the garage with her GTO. The car was a puzzle. Parts had specific places, and when you put them back just right, wonderful things happened. You went fast. Sometimes fast enough to forget.

  One more step and the crowd cleared. Nina sat at the bar, leather-clad legs crossed as she laughed. Her friend’s attention riveted on the man sitting next to her at the bar. Syd’s intuition roared forth, itching inside her skull like locusts, cementing her to the spot.

  Catching sight of Syd, Nina’s eyes brightened, and she smiled.

  Nina waved. “Syd! You actually came.”

  Syd focused entirely on her breath, pushing her intuition to the back of her head, locked behind the wall she’d worked so hard to build. Deep breath in. Out. The feeling of insects crawling in her head receded. She blinked. She could do this, she could totally do—

  “You must be Sydney.”

  A shiver that had everything to do with sweaty bedsheets and reckless abandon traveled her body. That voice. Goosebumps flew down her arms, her cropped leather jacket no protection. She shifted her eyes several inches to the right.

  Dark espresso hair, long enough to wave across his forehead. Like a master sculptor had created the work of a lifetime, his angular cheekbones cut a hard line. It fit the symmetry of his stubbled jaw perfectly. Broad shoulders, lean and muscular.

  Syd swallowed. Her eyes traveled over him, drinking him in. Sweet Jesus.

  His eyes glowed an ice blue in the darkened bar.

  He stood, Syd’s head tipped back, and she followed those eyes. He was a big man, nearly a foot taller than her five-foot-five. He straightened a leather jacket that would probably cost her an entire month’s pay. Gorgeous and loaded. His lips tipped into a devastating smile, as if he knew the direction of her thoughts and liked it.

  “Call me Syd,” She didn’t smile back. He was too…perfect. And her abilities still screamed at her. The din in her head was deafening. “Only my mother called me Sydney.”

  “I’m definitely not your mother.” He extended a hand. “Devon.”

  The moment broke, hammer-to-glass style. The invitation for skin to skin contact felt like a threat. She was too on edge, her mental wall already straining. It made no sense, but she’d learned to trust it.

  She put both hands in her back pockets.

  Nina cleared her throat and hopped off the bar stool, standing between them. “Um, Syd has a…a thing, about touching strange people.”

  Devon’s laugh erupted from his throat, deep, full, and unconcerned. “Strange?”

  “No. No. I mean—” Nina’s face fell. She glanced over at Syd for backup.

  Syd couldn’t place ground zero for the feeling, but she was beyond uncomfortable. Something about this man fired everything psychic in her into hyper-vigilance mode. She’d never felt anything like it. Swallowing, she could admit she’d never seen anything like him, either.

  “No offense taken. I’ve been called far worse.” Devon reached around to grab a tumbler of amber-colored liquid from the bar.

  Because she was actively developing a pretext to ditch him and—let’s not lie—avoiding the intensity of his eyes, Syd focused on his tumbler as he reached.

  It slid across the bar the last four inches, coming to rest in his hand.

  What the hell—

  Suddenly Devon’s shoulders pulled straight, and he gazed toward the door. “Ladies, excuse me.”

  Without waiting for any indication of assent, he strode between them. The crowd did a Red Sea imitation, parting for him even before he required it.

  Keeping one eye on him, Syd said, “Let’s go dance—or whatever we’re supposed to do.”

  “Wha—” Nina breathed, her eyes locked on the direction Devon had gone.

  Syd raised an eyebrow. “Starstruck fangirl is not a good look on you.”

  “Hey!” Nina punched Syd lightly in the shoulder.

  Syd glanced at Devon’s retreating back. “Maybe we should find a different bar?”

  Nina pulled a small compact out of her purse along with some gloss, fluffed her pretty blonde waves. Ignoring her comment completely, Nina spoke to the compact. “Tell me he’s not the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. I can’t believe he’s here alone. He was totally into you. Forgot all about me as soon as you walked up.” Her tone was all light, teasing. “Bitch.”

  He was mind-bendingly sexy—Syd couldn’t argue. Bringing back the memory of Devon made her tingly all over again. “He seems…” She wanted to say dangerous. But the only reasoning she had for her feeling wasn’t a reason at all. It was all her intuition, the doorway to her psychic senses. It was easier to lock them away than to learn her limits. Easier and safer.

  Nina stopped primping and grinned at Syd. “Hey, I’m not even mad. You need a good night out more than I do. I formally bequeath him to you.” She waved her hand with an exaggerated flourish. “Consider it a damn fine ‘thank you’ for coming out tonight.”

  Syd glanced back the way Devon had gone. She knew, unequivocally, no one owned that man. That, and she was still dealing with her last one-nighter-turned-pseudo-stalker. “Nah, I don’t need another Bryce. Maybe let’s just go dance or whatever?”

  Nina shook her head. “You’ve brushed off all my other invites. I’ve finally got you out of your garage, so chill. Enjoy a drink. I know your life hasn’t been easy, I get it, I do. Time to live, Syd. The lay of a lifetime hits on you, and you wanna run for the hills? You don’t want him, that’s fine. Crazy, but fine. Be my wingman. Don’t leave.”

  Syd studied Nina. That was a surprisingly insightful comment from the human glitter bubble. More, Nina was right. Spot on. Syd was here, what, five minutes and already had an excuse to bail?

  She was in a crowded place, with a friend. What’s the worst that could happen?

  “You know what? You’re right.” Syd smiled, only mildly forced, and signaled the bartender.

  He nodded to her and held up a finger.

  “You still seeing Bryce?” Nina popped her lips twice and put the gloss back in her purse.

  Syd sighed, dropped onto the bar stool Devon had vacated, and rolled her eyes. “We were never ‘seeing’ one another.”

  “That’s not what he said.” Nina lifted a well-sculpted brow.

  Bryce wasn’t exactly on the fast track for rocket scientist. But he was persistent, and she had been lonely.

  “It was a one-night thing. He can’t seem to get that straight.”

  Nina chuckled. “Isn’t that supposed to be the guy’s line?”

  Syd shrugged, finding her mood lifting. “I may have been accused of being a tomboy once or twice.”
r />   “You? No!” Nina fake exclaimed. “With all the cars, and the wrenches… I can’t imagine!”

  They were laughing as the bartender arrived. Syd ordered a shot of Jager, wanting a little extra help to loosen her too tight conversation muscles. Nina ordered a Cosmo, heavy lime.

  Syd tapped her fingers on the bar in time with the heavy beat. Things with Bryce were reaching a pitch she wasn’t liking. Not at all. She kept saying no, but he kept right on coming.

  The drinks arrived, and Nina sipped her martini while Syd tilted her chin to knock back her shot. The licorice liquor coated her throat, a satisfying burn slithered all the way to her stomach.

  The crowd around them began to part. All her internal bells lit up again, rapid fire. Without glancing over, Syd knew exactly who to expect this time.

  Devon’s voice caressed the air, even in the loud bar, penetrating her ears. “Sorry for the rude departure, ladies, someone arrived…unexpectedly.” His raspy voice was still the sound of sex, but there was strain in it.

  What could irritate Mr. Perfection?

  Instead of ignoring him, this time Syd stared openly. Where was the flaw in that perfection? There had to be a flaw. There had to be—ah, there it was. The set of his jaw, combined with the intensity of his eyes. He looked like a predator sizing up the degree of fight in his prey. Looks like her psychic sense might’ve had it right. This man was dangerous—but to her safety or her self-respect? Syd shivered but squared her shoulders to him.

  Nina wheeled around, instantly back in flirt mode. “Hey.” Her smile faltered a bit as Devon didn’t bother to make eye contact. His attention was focused one hundred percent. On Syd.

  Damn it. Some wingman.

  He wasn’t alone anymore.

  “Lay off it, Dev.” This voice wasn’t so much Devon’s sexy rasp as a deep grumble. Syd’s eyes traveled up and to the left of Devon. Sandy blond hair just long enough to tuck behind his ears, eyes reminiscent of the warm waves of the Caribbean Sea. Sunglasses were tucked into the collar of a t-shirt that looked like it had been around the block a time or two. The shirt stretched over impressive pecs and two large biceps, followed by distressed jeans (not because he’d paid too much for them) and scuffed work boots. Not exactly club attire. Not that she was about to point that out to the beautiful, muscled man.

  Syd stole a glance over at Nina and would’ve laughed out loud at the return of her love-struck expression if she hadn’t started feeling itchy and uncomfortable again. Glancing back and forth between the two men, Syd assessed their features, the strength of their presence. Had to be—

  “Brothers?” Syd asked.

  Devon grimaced. “By blood only.”

  “What other kind is there?” Syd wondered aloud.

  Devon’s smile was bland. “The kind which inspires mutual respect and affection.”

  Syd blinked. What a jackass. She’d give anything to have family to bicker with again.

  “Ladies.” The other man stepped forward and dipped his head in greeting. “I’m Jack. I’ll apologize in advance for my brother. He’s—”

  “—self-absorbed, cynical, mercenary…” Devon quipped with an amused smile.

  “I was going to say a dick.” Jack scowled.

  Devon’s smile turned up the wattage. “That, too.”

  She met Jack’s kind eyes, which immediately slid over to Devon.

  “This is something of an…unexpected reunion for Devon and I.” Jack scanned the bar, his eyes roving over all that went on around them.

  What caused the hyperawareness? Habit, maybe? Jack had the stiff presence of military.

  Come to think of it—Syd turned her head back and forth, taking in the incongruence. The bar was a packed, throbbing mass of inebriation, except around the four of them. Like an invisible wall separated them from the crowd.

  “Feels like centuries.” Devon leaned on the bar and hailed the bartender. “Want a drink, J? Maybe something with a pretty little umbrella?”

  Jack’s lips pulled into a tight line. “I still don’t drink.”

  “Check.” Devon made the motion with his finger. “Add that to the boring-as-hell column of your personality.”

  The barbed banter pinged back and forth, and Syd’s skin grew more and more prickly. She nudged Nina and looked meaningfully at the door. Despite the antipathy between the brothers, Nina shook her head and raised her eyebrows, mouthing, “No way.”

  Bad wingman, maybe, but no way Syd would leave her friend alone with these two. She was stuck. Syd wasn’t the best friend to have, but, damn, she wanted to at least give it solid effort.

  The bartender sauntered over, wiping his hands on a dishcloth that had seen cleaner days. “What’ll you have?”

  Devon smiled and pointed. “Hand me the bottle of Gentleman Jack and a couple tumblers.”

  Without hesitation, the bartender grabbed the bottle of top-shelf whiskey and set it before Devon along with two tumblers.

  Tensing, Syd glanced at her friend. Nina adjusted her shirt for maximum cleavage, oblivious.

  Jack cleared his throat loudly.

  Devon tossed a bored expression over his shoulder and poured three fingers worth of the whiskey. “I’ll pay for it, J.” Devon withdrew several hundred-dollar bills and pushed them across the bar. “I’m picking up the tab for these ladies, too.”

  Syd stepped closer to him before she realized it. The words ‘the hell you are’ froze on her tongue. Being this close to him was electric, her whole body on fire, and she wanted to touch him. Badly. Her hand reached out, inches from his stubbled jaw, and he made no move to stop her. No, he wouldn’t stop her, but that wasn’t the test.

  Reigning in her self-control, she pulled back. Her hand trembled. Devon’s lips turned up the slightest degree. His intense eyes searched her face, like he was reassessing her.

  Swallowing, she glanced back to Nina, chatting easily with Jack. Jack had one eye on her friend, the other trained on his brother.

  Gesturing to the bartender, Devon watched her. She felt caught, ensnared. If she thrashed, she’d only make it harder to escape. His expression dared her: thrash. “What do you want, Syd?”

  She wanted to walk away. That’s the lie she told herself, anyway. He knew damn well what she wanted. It was laced in his question, in the way his body leaned toward her. So much more than a simple drink request, but she wasn’t taking the bait. “World peace.”

  Devon laughed, and Syd wanted to wrap herself in the sound. “J and I, we’re working on it.” He raised the bottle of Gentleman and gestured with it to the bartender. “He won’t go anywhere until you tell me what you want to drink.”

  The bartender made no response to the statement, and continued to stand there, waiting patiently, as if there weren’t a line of irritated people calling for his services down the bar.

  Nina spoke up from behind Syd. “I’ll have some whiskey.”

  Syd cut her eyes toward her friend. Apparently, the barely-sipped Cosmo was forgotten.

  Devon poured two fingers and handed it to Nina. His eyes never left Syd, which was starting to tick her off, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking away.

  Syd finally said, “Shot of Jager.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, Devon’s lips pulled down. “That’s the shit you drink?” He jerked his head once, and the bartender turned to fill the order.

  She smiled and winked at him. He didn’t miss the sarcasm in her action. But instead of standing down, as she’d hoped he would, he smiled back. Dazzling, beautiful, it took her breath away for a moment. It wasn’t just the smile; his arrogant mask slipped for a second, and she got a glimpse of what lay behind it.

  Nina sipped the whiskey and covered a cough. “So, um, Devon, you want to dance?”

  The smile bled from his face, so much that Syd wondered if she’d really seen it. With his blank mask back in place, Devon turned to Nina. Syd fought the urge, barely, to step in front of her friend. Out of the corner of her eye, Syd watched Jack’s hands
curl into fists at his side.

  The moment hung.

  Devon smiled, but it wasn’t the same one he’d offered to Syd. “Why don’t you go find someone else to dance with?” The air charged with electricity, acid dripped over all her nerves.

  It was rude, and Syd was about to pop off a cutting response to this asshat—but Nina turned around and headed for the dance floor, leaving Syd behind. Her jaw dropped, and Syd turned to follow Nina, but Jack stepped in front of her. He may as well have been a brick wall, all that muscle and male, but his expression was pained.

  From behind her, Devon spoke directly into her ear. “You stay with us.” Like he expected compliance. Like he was used to getting it.

  Syd faced him, picturing his surprised expression if she decided to use that whiskey bottle as a blunt instrument to the head.

  Devon laughed and nodded to Jack. “I like her.”

  Not if you knew what I was thinking, Syd thought.

  Devon’s gaze shifted and skewered her to the spot. “Precisely because of that.” Devon nudged the whiskey bottle toward her. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

  She froze, and her mind emptied. She pulled herself up, a distant part of her reptilian brain, the part that prioritized survival above all else, kicked into high gear. It helped that this city was in her blood, and, when pressed, she could turn on Detroit-style survival skills.

  Her heartbeat started to keep pace with the house music bumping in the bar. Options for her escape fast-forwarded through her mind.

  His electric gaze traveled her body. “Tough girl exteriors always make for the most interesting soft spots.” Devon returned the sarcastic wink she’d given him earlier.

  Pissed now, Syd pulled her shoulders straight and kept her expression neutral, though her pulse pranced like a deer in flight. She couldn’t help her words. “You won’t be feeling any of my spots.”

  Devon took a healthy swallow of whiskey, his hooded eyes all heat. “I’ll take that bet.”