Ivory White : A House of Misfits Standalone Read online

  I was in a part of the city I’d never even known existed. Everything was foreign here, as if I’d fled to another country instead of to the other side of the place where I’d always lived. I always knew there was a difference from one end of town to the other, but this? I could barely process it all.

  Something shifted in the alley I rushed past, making me squeal and run a little faster. Again, I almost tripped and fell, but this time, I caught myself on the side of the building I’d been trying to reach.

  The already loud music grew louder when the door to the place shoved open and a few people stumbled out. They were laughing and unkempt.

  When they turned to glance at me, my body froze. I felt as if a spotlight had been shone on me and any minute they would yell, Ivory White, is that you?

  That didn’t happen. Instead, the people turned back to their laughter and good times and went in the opposite direction.

  Still, the uncomfortable feeling of being seen sent me reeling.

  Trust no one.

  Reaching up, lifting the hood on my jacket, I tucked it around me, concealing my badly chopped hair and tired, pale face. Since the sun had gone down, I hadn’t bothered with the hood. My black hair blended in with the night anyway. But if I was going inside, this hood would offer the only protection I had right now.

  Pushing off the brick wall—I really wished I had some hand sanitizer—I moved past the long row of wide windows lined on the inside with colorful string lights that probably stayed up year round. It was a bar. And it was packed.

  The perfect place to hide.

  Without a second thought, I slipped inside, glancing behind me because it was a compulsive urge I couldn’t deny. My nose wrinkled at the putrid odor of beer and sweat as I tucked my injured, sock-covered hand into my pocket and pushed on, weaving through the people crowding around tables and standing in places they probably weren’t even supposed to stand. A long bar ran along the back wall, and I headed in that direction.

  I could borrow their phone. No. I couldn’t. I didn’t know who to call. Who to trust.

  Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by this predicament. This had never happened to me before. I’d never not known what to do. It was so confusing my head nearly swam with despair.

  The song changed over to something even louder and more horrible than the last. Swaying on my feet, I reached out to steady myself.

  A hand closed over my shoulder, and I jolted. “Get your hand off of me!” My voice was cool and steady, the complete opposite of how I actually felt.

  “You first.”

  Personally affronted, I glanced down to where a very large and dirty hand cupped my shoulder. My eyes followed the hand to the wrist and trailed up the arm, which was covered in plaid.

  It was not an attractive plaid.

  My eyes spoke when my voice did not. What did you just say to me?

  A set of bottom-heavy lips tilted up in one corner, and as they moved, they pulled along a five-o’clock shadowed jawline with it. This unshaven, plaid-wearing person who was man-handling me didn’t speak either. Instead, his very dark eyes pointedly looked down at his shoulder.

  I gasped and nearly fell over when I jerked away from him. Oh my God, I was touching him!

  The hand that had been clasped around my shoulder curled around my waist, its presence the only reason I didn’t fall completely.

  His touch was warm and felt so wide at the small of my back. The heat from his palm seeped through the thin fabric of my top, and the skin at my waist tingled.

  “Let go!” I snapped, straightening away. “What part of don’t touch me do you not understand?”

  A dark, fluffy brow arched. “You touched me first.”

  His eyes were incredibly dark. Not deep brown. Onyx. Like a night sky without stars. Still, though, the sky in his eyes glittered.

  Right now, they glittered with humor.

  Was he laughing at me?

  Snapping up to my full height, I delivered a disdainful look. “I nearly slipped on this… this filthy floor, and you got in the way of me reaching for the counter.”

  Sweeping his gaze down to the floor, he stared as if trying to see the filth I pointed out. “Looks to me like you nearly tripped on your own shoelaces.” His eyes flicked back to my face.

  The entrance to the bar opened, a cold wind blew in, and the bell I hadn’t even noticed before rang, signaling someone’s arrival. Forgetting about the man trying to argue with me, I spun to see who had come in. If it was the man who was after me…

  Would I even know him if I saw him?

  A couple smiled and waved to another couple already seated at a nearby table.

  Sagging in relief, I nearly fell over again.

  “Whoa.” That same warm hand caught me around the waist again.

  “I said don’t touch me,” I hissed.

  I expected him to remove his hands immediately. He didn’t.

  “Stop falling over, and I wouldn’t have to.”

  I gasped as he directed me to a nearby barstool. Once I was seated, he pulled his hand away, plopping down on the seat adjacent to mine.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  “I didn’t come here to drink,”

  “Why else would you come to a bar?”

  I ignored him.

  It was a blissful two seconds until two intrusive fingers curled around the edge of my hood and tugged slightly.

  Jolting away, I knocked into the person sitting on the other side of me, but I didn’t apologize. How could I? I was too busy defending myself against this plaid-wearing pirate.

  Did I mention he totally looked like a pirate? Dark and smooth with eyes that held secrets.

  “Stop that,” I scolded, smacking his hand away.

  “Why are you wearing that?” he asked as though he didn’t even notice how much I wanted him to get away from me. Leaning back in, he said, “Are you hiding?”

  I stiffened, and my injured hand curled into a tight fist in my pocket.

  “Are you meeting someone?”

  This time, it was me who peeled back the edge of the hood so he could feel the full weight of my sidelong glance.

  He held up his hands in surrender.

  The bell over the door jingled again, and I disregarded him completely. A couple of men walked in, one of them in a dark coat, and the hairs on my arms lifted. Forcing my outward appearance to remain unruffled and calm, from beneath the hood, I watched him covertly while my insides pretty much cartwheeled around inside me.

  My fingers were shaking so much I tucked them under the backs of my thighs, sitting on them to keep them still. The pressure made my injured fingertip sting with renewed pain, but I didn’t pull back. I embraced the pain to remind myself I had to be on the lookout.

  The men joined a table across the room, and then the shady-looking one’s eyes glanced in my direction.

  Stiffening, I spun on the stool, putting my back to him as I slinked deeper into the hood.

  Staring at the rows of liquor lining the wall, I also noted the neon signs all over the place. On all the walls, there was wild, colorful paint without any kind of order or design. It reminded me of something… something I couldn’t quite place. It was hard to think right now.

  One of the signs was on the fritz, and it was buzzing and blinking like it was waiting for the perfect moment to go out. I wished it would. The bright strobing was making me dizzy.

  A brown bottle plunked down in front of me, and I blinked.

  “Since you aren’t meeting anyone else, you can have a drink with me,” the persistent pirate declared.

  I gestured to the bottle. “This is your idea of a drink?”

  “You want something else?”

  The bartender moved past, and I called out, “Excuse me. Can I please have a bottle of Perrier?”

  “Perry what?” the man asked, glowering at me.

  “Perrier,” I pronounced. “Sparkling water…” I said as if it were obvious.

  “I don’t serve
water at my bar.”

  “That’s bad customer service,” I informed him. “You should always have what a customer might request.”

  Both his hands slapped onto the bar top, making me jump. As he leaned closer, I got a hearty look at his Asian features and hair that hadn’t been combed for probably a week. Shame. He might have been good-looking if he didn’t appear to be constipated and in need of moisturizer. “You haven’t bought anything, so you aren’t a customer.”

  “Well, I tried to buy some water.” I reminded him.

  “No one buys water at The Rotten Apple.”

  “Ew.” I pursed my lips. “With a name like that, I’m surprised anyone buys anything at all.”

  A growl vibrated the back of the bartender’s throat, and he leaned even closer. Normally, I wouldn’t have budged an inch. Men didn’t scare me. No one did.

  Until now. Until earlier today.

  Do not show your fear! a voice inside me insisted.

  Instead of shifting back, I held still and lifted my chin, meeting his challenging gaze.

  “Back off, E,” the guy beside me said, shoving the bartender back to his side of the bar.

  “Water,” E barked, offended. “Fancy water.”

  “I’m dehydrated,” I said, realizing I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink all day.

  No wonder I was dizzy.

  “Just get her a water, huh?” The man beside me cajoled. He had a nice voice, and I couldn’t help but look at him. He saw me looking and smiled. There was a dimple in his cheek. “That’s just his personality.”

  “They have medicines for that,” I informed.

  A glass of water was roughly slammed down in front of me. The liquid splashed over the top, splattering the bar top and discarded peanut shells littering the area.

  The glass had a smudge on the side.

  There was no ice.

  I was pretty sure he’d just gotten that out of the tap. And by out of the tap, I mean from the spigot in the sink under the bar.

  My stomach heaved.

  “Earth!” someone yelled from down the bar.

  The bartender gave me a look he probably thought would scare me.

  I smiled sweetly.

  When he was gone, I glanced around the room again, focusing on the door.

  “Everything okay?”

  My eyes went back to the man beside me. “Fine.”

  “I haven’t seen you in here before.”

  “Nor will you ever again.”

  “Guess I wouldn’t want to go back to the place where I was stood up either,” he quipped, tilting a bottle to his lips.

  I gasped. “I’ve never been stood up in all my life!”

  “First time’s the worst.”

  I gasped again. “I was not stood up!”

  The bell rang out, and I stiffened, swiveling toward the rush of winter air that came in with the patrons.

  “Seems to me like you’re waiting.”

  It was a couple. Young. In love. Her scarf didn’t match her outfit.

  I turned back to the brown bottle and smudged glass of swill sitting before me.

  “What’s your name?”

  I slid a glance out of the corner of my eye. “I’m not telling you.”

  “I’m Neo,” he answered as though I hadn’t just rejected him.

  I sighed. I’d never met anyone so dense before. “What’s it going to take to get you to leave me alone?”

  He went silent, and frankly, that made me worry. Curious, I peeked around the hood to see him scrawling something on a scrap of paper. Finishing his writing far quicker than I anticipated, he glanced up, his dark stare colliding with mine.

  The smirk that glittered in his eyes made my back teeth slam together. If we were anywhere else, under any other circumstances, I would eat this man for breakfast. He would rue the day we met.

  But we were sitting inside a rotten apple. He was the worm living there…

  “Here,” he said, holding out the wrinkled scrap he’d just scrawled on.

  I stared at it dubiously. “What is that?”

  “My number. That way when you regret rejecting me later, you can call.”

  I scoffed. “I can assure you I won’t call.”

  “You might. I’m pretty irresistible.”

  My eyes flashed up at the smooth humor I heard in his voice. He was smiling. His eyes were amused, and the dimples in his cheeks were both on full display.

  A funny feeling wriggled around inside me, and I pressed my hand to my midsection.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, his brows coming together.

  “Fine. I just haven’t eaten in a while.”

  “Want to get some—”

  “No.” I cut him off and snatched the number out of his hand, hoping he would now leave me alone.

  “Next time,” he said.

  He must be a professional at getting rejected. He acted like it didn’t even bother him.

  My head was pounding, and the world was turning slightly blurry. Inside my pocket, my finger started to throb more than ever.

  “Better put that away before you lose it.” He gestured to the paper I still held. Actually, it wasn’t a paper. It was a ripped piece of napkin, and I passed it into my pocket with my injured, sock-covered finger.

  “Now leave me alone,” I announced like our deal was complete.

  Someone jostled into me from behind, slamming into my back hard enough that the stool I was perched on pitched forward. My hands flung out and a strangled sound ripped from my throat, but there was nothing to catch myself on. The sound of the wood clattering against the floor made me wince, and I waited for the pain to radiate through my already fatigued limbs.

  No pain came.

  There was only warmth.

  Warmth and a weird sensation of safety… something I hadn’t felt at all the entire day.

  Instinctively, I curled my hands around that feeling and tried to pull it closer. What I got was a handful of red and black plaid.

  When I jolted in shock, the hands holding my back were forced to tighten, and my body was tugged farther into his lap.

  “What are you doing!” I shrieked, slapping at his very wide shoulders.

  “Keeping you from hitting the floor. A place you seem to keep wanting to go.”

  “Put me down!” I demanded, smacking him again.

  He smelled good. Actually, no. He was probably smelly, just less smelly than the rest of this place.

  Brr-bring!

  Over Neo’s shoulder, I caught the flash of black the second the bell rang. I went still, slinking down a little to use his body to hide mine.

  It was a man with shady vibes, dressed head to toe in black with a black ball cap pulled low over his face. Even though his eyes were shadowed, I could tell he searched the room for something, for someone.

  If I ever see you again, you won’t walk away. The chilling words of the hunter in the forest haunted me.

  My stomach tightened, and my breath caught. He was looking for me. He was here for me…

  “Change your mind?”

  The rumbly voice was so close to my ear, my head popped up. Neo had to tilt his face back to look down at me.

  Our eyes met, and there were a few beats of absolute silence between us before I whispered, “What?”

  “I thought you wanted me to put you down.”

  Following his gaze, I realized what he was alluding to and almost died. The urge to leap away from him was strong. But the urge to stay hidden against him was stronger.

  My fingers gripped the front of his shirt so tight I knew when I let go, the fabric would be wrinkled. My body hunched into his, and my head ducked against his shoulder so close the fabric of his shirt brushed my cheek.

  The fabric was soft, much more pleasant than it appeared.

  “One minute, please,” I requested, peeking over his shoulder again to look for the stalker.

  He was gone.

  Confused, I sat up, glancing all around the bar.
>
  Had he left? Had he not seen me and moved on?

  Relief so strong washed through me. With a sigh, I collapsed. I was exhausted. My feet hurt. I was cold, my face needed to be washed, my hair needed help, and my fingernail… Well, I didn’t know what to do about that. And also, I really, really wanted a decent glass of water.

  Fatigue seemed to be the most pressing of all my problems because my eyes drifted closed for long moments.

  “I was going to say I was sorry… but it looks like I don’t need to.”

  The new voice intruded on the relief I’d so badly needed. Reality came crashing back. My eyes popped open, head snapped up.

  Two sets of eyes stared at me.

  I looked first at the set I’d never seen before and then quickly at the pair belonging to the man whose lap I was still sitting in.

  Oh my God, I was still sitting in his lap!

  Scrambling up, I stood with the bar at my back and the two men watching me as though they’d never seen a woman before.

  “You,” I said, jabbing a finger at the newcomer. “You pushed over my chair?”

  His already round eyes went rounder, and his head bobbed. His cheeks were slightly chubby even though he was on the small side. The brown hair on his head was unruly, too long, and needed some serious conditioner.

  He bounced from one foot to the other, and suddenly, all I could think was that he looked like a giant puppy. “It was an accident.”

  “I could have been seriously hurt!”

  “Good thing Neo was there to catch you.” He smiled, and it made him look dopey and goofy.

  “It was fate.” Neo grinned, spreading his hands wide as if he’d just won the lottery.

  An entire day’s worth of pain, fear, and exhaustion seemed to explode out of me all at once. “As if someone like you would ever be my fate!” I hissed coldly. “Just being in the same room with you, breathing the same air, is toxic to me.”

  “Whoa,” the little one said.

  Saying nothing, Neo leaned toward me, and yes, I admit I flinched. But he didn’t touch me. Instead, he snagged the beer bottle he’d set in front of me and lifted it to his lips, silently staring with those endlessly dark eyes while his throat worked to swallow that swill.