Near and Far (Lost & Found 2)

“Hey, I’m a lover, not a fighter. I’ll be good. Really.” I took a step for the door, hoping she’d follow me. That hope was wasted.

“Then you’re really not going in there like that, Mr. Lover Not A Fighter. You need to get at least one good punch in before they kill you. That way you can die with honor.”

She wasn’t going to let it go. Obviously. If the quickest way to get us out of there was for me to get changed, then fine. I’d go change. I hoped a darker pair of jeans and a blue shirt would work for her because that was about as versatile as my wardrobe got. “Fine. I’ll go get changed.”

“Not so fast.” She bounced up from the couch and followed me. “If you think I’m letting you dive back into that duffel filled with cowboy denim, you’re got another thing coming.” Grabbing my forearm, she steered me into her room.

It was more of a crypt than a room, and in the first few seconds, I saw so many props, costumes, and toys of a naughty nature that I doubted I’d ever be the same. As Alex tore through her closet, I did my best to focus on the empty patch of carpet in front of my boots. There were a pair of handcuffs to the left and a pair of underwear that really missed the memo on what underwear was intended to cover to the right, so I focused on that four by four inch span of carpet until I felt close to going cross-eyed.

“Here. These should work.” Alex held out an armful of guy’s clothing and waited for me to take it. “Brad wasn’t quite as beefy as you, but he was about as tall.”

“Brad?” I asked, realizing my mistake too late.

Alex sighed something that was too close to a moan for my comfort level. “My old boyfriend. Four exes ago. He was a frickin’ tomcat in the sack. He used to do this thing where he almost lifted me into the air before—”

“Thanks, Alex,” I interrupted, heading for the door. I didn’t need to hear any more about Brad and his mad tomcat skills in the sack. “I’ll try these on and meet you in the living room in five.” I was almost into the hall when Alex called after me.

“Ooooh, wait!” She rummaged around under her bed. “Boots!”

“I’ve already got boots,” I replied right before she flung a pair of black ones my way. I managed to snag them before they clocked me in the face. Okay, so they were boots, but they were basically the polar opposite to the kind I wore—round toed, scuffed up, and a buckle below the ankle. Motorcycle boots? I think?

“Not all boots are created equal,” Alex argued with my silent thoughts. “And those, Sex God, kick your boots’s ass.”

Again, I might have argued if I thought I had a remote chance of coming out the boot victor.

Chapter Four

I FELT LIKE I’d just been held down by a boy band and a motorcycle gang and what I was wearing and the way I looked was the scary result. The jeans were looser than I was used to, the long-sleeved shirt was tighter than I was used to, and the boots . . . well, they were nothing like what I was used to.

Not to mention my hair. When Alex came at me with a bottle of goop after I’d emerged from Rowen’s room in foreign duds, I just clenched my jaw, closed my eyes, and prayed it would all be over soon. I still hadn’t chanced a look in the mirror. If my hair looked anything like it felt, I didn’t want to see it. I was clothed, but I felt nak*d. The missing hat might have had something to do with that feeling.

“I know you don’t believe me, but you don’t have to. Because you look hot. Like smokin’, I-just-moistened-my-panties hot,” Alex said, running a yellow light in her black El Camino. It was about as ancient as Old Bessie and had aged about as gracefully.

Some sweet, refurbished, classic cars turn every head when they pass by. Alex’s El Camino wasn’t one of those. It was rusted out, the engine made a noise like a jar of marbles had been dropped inside of it, and the rearview mirror hung on by a thread. And the interior’s smell? Let’s just say it was offensive enough that I’d been riding with my head half out the window in the chilly, rainy weather since we’d left the apartment.

“Thanks?” I replied, shifting for the hundredth time. What guys saw in loose jeans was lost on me. I’d never been in a more uncomfortable pair.

“Oh, come on, Sex God. Give it a break. The self-deprecation act is getting old fast. Just admit you dig that I decked you out in a little swagger, and let’s get on with the night.”

I knew Alex and I spoke the same language, but sometimes I wondered if we spoke different dialects because I didn’t understand half of what she said most of the time. “Alex?”

“Sex God?” she mimicked.

I exhaled out my nose. “What’s up with the nickname?”

“What nickname?” She took a corner so sharply, I checked over my shoulder to make sure we hadn’t lost the bumper or something.

“Sex God,” I muttered.

“That’s not a nickname. I thought that was your given name,” she said with an evil grin.

I shot her an exasperated look.

She basked in my discomfort a few seconds longer before shrugging. “Truthfully? Because you are one.”

My eyebrows came together. I hadn’t realized that been one of my identifiers in the Jesse Walker fine print.

Suddenly, she smacked the back of my head. Not a hold-nothing-back whack, but hard enough it stung. I was about to unleash Rowen’s favorite go-to phrase when her roommate went off the rails when she surprised me with one more whack.

Unstable was the first word that came to mind.

“Oww,” I said, twisting in my seat so she couldn’t surprise me with another one.

“I warned you to cut out the self-deprecation act. It was old two minutes ago. Now it’s just making me violent.”

I should have taken a cab. Or the bus. Or hell, hitched a ride like I was half-worried I’d be doing anyway.

“When I call you Sex God, that’s because you are one. I don’t give out compliments liberally, especially sex compliments. So stop acting like a humble douche, take Sex God like a man, and let yourself strut a bit.”

My eyebrows came together again, but when Alex lifted her hand, that crease ironed our real fast.

“Good boy,” she praised, returning her hand to the steering wheel. “Any man who can make a girl make the sounds I’ve heard coming from Rowen’s room when you’re in town is a bona fide Sex God. Any guy whose girl is still flushing the next morning is a certified Sex God. And any guy that can keep that look in Rowen’s eyes even when he’s away is the f**king king of Sex Gods.”

I didn’t know what to reply to that. That was standard when it came to my conversations with Alex.

“Any questions?” she said as I continued my temporary muteness.

“No,” I said at last, wanting to steer the conversation far away from Rowen’s and my relationship between the sheets. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Alex hearing, witnessing, and knowing the things I did to Rowen, so I decided to take . . . Sex God as a compliment and move on. Hopefully we’d stay “moved on” from that conversation for the rest of eternity.

“Good. Because we don’t really have time for questions.” Alex sped up to an old warehouse and hit the brakes at the last possible second. Good God, it was a miracle we’d arrived in one piece.

“Why’s that?”

“Because once we get inside, the music will be so loud the only way to communicate is through sign language, facial expressions, or bumping uglies.”

Chalk up yet another cringe-worthy phrase from Alex.

“We’re here?” I glanced at the warehouse again. It looked like no human had stepped foot in it in decades. No light streamed from any of the windows, and more of it seemed to be crumbling than standing. It was a horror movie director’s dream.

“Welcome to the Underground. The most prestigious club in the city.” A guy appeared at Alex’s door and opened it. Valet parking? I hadn’t seen that coming. “Not exactly what you were expecting?” Alex said before sliding out of her seat.

“Not exactly.” I opened my door and got out.

“It’s not much from the outside, but just wait until you get through the doors.” Alex came up beside me and nudged me. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s what’s on the inside that counts?”

I glanced at her. “I didn’t realize that applied to clubs.”

She wove her arm through mine and tugged me toward what I assumed was the entrance. “It applies to everything. Oh, and once we’re inside, stay close, Cowboy. You might be sporting different digs, but if the dudes even catch a whiff of cow shit on you, your ass is grass.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can handle myself. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Yeah, saying ‘rodeo’ isn’t going to make people believe you’re not a hick.”

“I’m not a hick,” I said matter-of-factly.

Alex made a sound between exasperated and irritated. “No, you’re a self-deprecating pain in my ass.”

I smiled to myself. Alex was something of a pain in my ass too, but she was growing on me. “But you put up with me because I’m a Sex God. Right?”

“You’re not my Sex God,” she huffed. “Since I’m not reaping the benefits from your mad sexual skills, you’ll only get a free pass from me for so long, so shape up or ship out, Cowboy.”

“Yeah, Alex? You calling me Cowboy isn’t going to convince anyone I’m not some dumb hick either.”

“Whatever, Pain-In-My-Ass Walker,” she muttered as the door swung open when we were a few feet in front of it. Either there was a camera on the door, a peephole, or a poltergeist was manning it. “And my warning to stay close wasn’t just because the guys might go gang-busters on you. The girls in there are the biggest threat. They catch sight of you, and their grubby little paws will be all over you like you’re a rung on the ladder to social climbing. And if anyone catches wind that you’re the Sex God you are, I hope you’ve got stamina, Cowboy, because every last cock-crazy female in there will hold you down and do filthy, filthy things to you.”

If there was a way to go back in time, I would have travelled back ten seconds and stuck my fingers in my ears before Alex got out that last bit.

Thankfully, a guy who had to be almost twice my size stopped us just inside the door. He didn’t say anything, but Alex obviously knew what he was waiting for. She fumbled around in her purse for her phone. Scrolling through her texts, she flashed one in front of the guy.

Without so much as a nod, he stepped aside and let us pass. We walked down a long, dark hall, and with every step we took, a beat that shook my insides grew heavier. I couldn’t make out the music or if it was coming from above or below us, but when it started shaking the hallway walls, I knew Alex was right. It was going to be loud.

Finally, the hall ended at a row of elevators that looked somehow even older than the building. I followed Alex into the only one available—I wasn’t sure if that was because the half dozen others were in use or because they were busted—and once I’d closed the metal screen door, Alex punched the B on the panel and the elevator jerked into motion.

o;Hey, I’m a lover, not a fighter. I’ll be good. Really.” I took a step for the door, hoping she’d follow me. That hope was wasted.

“Then you’re really not going in there like that, Mr. Lover Not A Fighter. You need to get at least one good punch in before they kill you. That way you can die with honor.”

She wasn’t going to let it go. Obviously. If the quickest way to get us out of there was for me to get changed, then fine. I’d go change. I hoped a darker pair of jeans and a blue shirt would work for her because that was about as versatile as my wardrobe got. “Fine. I’ll go get changed.”

“Not so fast.” She bounced up from the couch and followed me. “If you think I’m letting you dive back into that duffel filled with cowboy denim, you’re got another thing coming.” Grabbing my forearm, she steered me into her room.

It was more of a crypt than a room, and in the first few seconds, I saw so many props, costumes, and toys of a naughty nature that I doubted I’d ever be the same. As Alex tore through her closet, I did my best to focus on the empty patch of carpet in front of my boots. There were a pair of handcuffs to the left and a pair of underwear that really missed the memo on what underwear was intended to cover to the right, so I focused on that four by four inch span of carpet until I felt close to going cross-eyed.

“Here. These should work.” Alex held out an armful of guy’s clothing and waited for me to take it. “Brad wasn’t quite as beefy as you, but he was about as tall.”

“Brad?” I asked, realizing my mistake too late.

Alex sighed something that was too close to a moan for my comfort level. “My old boyfriend. Four exes ago. He was a frickin’ tomcat in the sack. He used to do this thing where he almost lifted me into the air before—”

“Thanks, Alex,” I interrupted, heading for the door. I didn’t need to hear any more about Brad and his mad tomcat skills in the sack. “I’ll try these on and meet you in the living room in five.” I was almost into the hall when Alex called after me.

“Ooooh, wait!” She rummaged around under her bed. “Boots!”

“I’ve already got boots,” I replied right before she flung a pair of black ones my way. I managed to snag them before they clocked me in the face. Okay, so they were boots, but they were basically the polar opposite to the kind I wore—round toed, scuffed up, and a buckle below the ankle. Motorcycle boots? I think?

“Not all boots are created equal,” Alex argued with my silent thoughts. “And those, Sex God, kick your boots’s ass.”

Again, I might have argued if I thought I had a remote chance of coming out the boot victor.

Chapter Four

I FELT LIKE I’d just been held down by a boy band and a motorcycle gang and what I was wearing and the way I looked was the scary result. The jeans were looser than I was used to, the long-sleeved shirt was tighter than I was used to, and the boots . . . well, they were nothing like what I was used to.

Not to mention my hair. When Alex came at me with a bottle of goop after I’d emerged from Rowen’s room in foreign duds, I just clenched my jaw, closed my eyes, and prayed it would all be over soon. I still hadn’t chanced a look in the mirror. If my hair looked anything like it felt, I didn’t want to see it. I was clothed, but I felt nak*d. The missing hat might have had something to do with that feeling.

“I know you don’t believe me, but you don’t have to. Because you look hot. Like smokin’, I-just-moistened-my-panties hot,” Alex said, running a yellow light in her black El Camino. It was about as ancient as Old Bessie and had aged about as gracefully.

Some sweet, refurbished, classic cars turn every head when they pass by. Alex’s El Camino wasn’t one of those. It was rusted out, the engine made a noise like a jar of marbles had been dropped inside of it, and the rearview mirror hung on by a thread. And the interior’s smell? Let’s just say it was offensive enough that I’d been riding with my head half out the window in the chilly, rainy weather since we’d left the apartment.

“Thanks?” I replied, shifting for the hundredth time. What guys saw in loose jeans was lost on me. I’d never been in a more uncomfortable pair.

“Oh, come on, Sex God. Give it a break. The self-deprecation act is getting old fast. Just admit you dig that I decked you out in a little swagger, and let’s get on with the night.”

I knew Alex and I spoke the same language, but sometimes I wondered if we spoke different dialects because I didn’t understand half of what she said most of the time. “Alex?”

“Sex God?” she mimicked.

I exhaled out my nose. “What’s up with the nickname?”

“What nickname?” She took a corner so sharply, I checked over my shoulder to make sure we hadn’t lost the bumper or something.

“Sex God,” I muttered.

“That’s not a nickname. I thought that was your given name,” she said with an evil grin.

I shot her an exasperated look.

She basked in my discomfort a few seconds longer before shrugging. “Truthfully? Because you are one.”

My eyebrows came together. I hadn’t realized that been one of my identifiers in the Jesse Walker fine print.

Suddenly, she smacked the back of my head. Not a hold-nothing-back whack, but hard enough it stung. I was about to unleash Rowen’s favorite go-to phrase when her roommate went off the rails when she surprised me with one more whack.

Unstable was the first word that came to mind.

“Oww,” I said, twisting in my seat so she couldn’t surprise me with another one.

“I warned you to cut out the self-deprecation act. It was old two minutes ago. Now it’s just making me violent.”

I should have taken a cab. Or the bus. Or hell, hitched a ride like I was half-worried I’d be doing anyway.

“When I call you Sex God, that’s because you are one. I don’t give out compliments liberally, especially sex compliments. So stop acting like a humble douche, take Sex God like a man, and let yourself strut a bit.”

My eyebrows came together again, but when Alex lifted her hand, that crease ironed our real fast.

“Good boy,” she praised, returning her hand to the steering wheel. “Any man who can make a girl make the sounds I’ve heard coming from Rowen’s room when you’re in town is a bona fide Sex God. Any guy whose girl is still flushing the next morning is a certified Sex God. And any guy that can keep that look in Rowen’s eyes even when he’s away is the f**king king of Sex Gods.”

I didn’t know what to reply to that. That was standard when it came to my conversations with Alex.

“Any questions?” she said as I continued my temporary muteness.

“No,” I said at last, wanting to steer the conversation far away from Rowen’s and my relationship between the sheets. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Alex hearing, witnessing, and knowing the things I did to Rowen, so I decided to take . . . Sex God as a compliment and move on. Hopefully we’d stay “moved on” from that conversation for the rest of eternity.

“Good. Because we don’t really have time for questions.” Alex sped up to an old warehouse and hit the brakes at the last possible second. Good God, it was a miracle we’d arrived in one piece.

“Why’s that?”

“Because once we get inside, the music will be so loud the only way to communicate is through sign language, facial expressions, or bumping uglies.”

Chalk up yet another cringe-worthy phrase from Alex.

“We’re here?” I glanced at the warehouse again. It looked like no human had stepped foot in it in decades. No light streamed from any of the windows, and more of it seemed to be crumbling than standing. It was a horror movie director’s dream.

“Welcome to the Underground. The most prestigious club in the city.” A guy appeared at Alex’s door and opened it. Valet parking? I hadn’t seen that coming. “Not exactly what you were expecting?” Alex said before sliding out of her seat.

“Not exactly.” I opened my door and got out.

“It’s not much from the outside, but just wait until you get through the doors.” Alex came up beside me and nudged me. “Haven’t you ever heard it’s what’s on the inside that counts?”

I glanced at her. “I didn’t realize that applied to clubs.”

She wove her arm through mine and tugged me toward what I assumed was the entrance. “It applies to everything. Oh, and once we’re inside, stay close, Cowboy. You might be sporting different digs, but if the dudes even catch a whiff of cow shit on you, your ass is grass.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can handle myself. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Yeah, saying ‘rodeo’ isn’t going to make people believe you’re not a hick.”

“I’m not a hick,” I said matter-of-factly.

Alex made a sound between exasperated and irritated. “No, you’re a self-deprecating pain in my ass.”

I smiled to myself. Alex was something of a pain in my ass too, but she was growing on me. “But you put up with me because I’m a Sex God. Right?”

“You’re not my Sex God,” she huffed. “Since I’m not reaping the benefits from your mad sexual skills, you’ll only get a free pass from me for so long, so shape up or ship out, Cowboy.”

“Yeah, Alex? You calling me Cowboy isn’t going to convince anyone I’m not some dumb hick either.”

“Whatever, Pain-In-My-Ass Walker,” she muttered as the door swung open when we were a few feet in front of it. Either there was a camera on the door, a peephole, or a poltergeist was manning it. “And my warning to stay close wasn’t just because the guys might go gang-busters on you. The girls in there are the biggest threat. They catch sight of you, and their grubby little paws will be all over you like you’re a rung on the ladder to social climbing. And if anyone catches wind that you’re the Sex God you are, I hope you’ve got stamina, Cowboy, because every last cock-crazy female in there will hold you down and do filthy, filthy things to you.”

If there was a way to go back in time, I would have travelled back ten seconds and stuck my fingers in my ears before Alex got out that last bit.

Thankfully, a guy who had to be almost twice my size stopped us just inside the door. He didn’t say anything, but Alex obviously knew what he was waiting for. She fumbled around in her purse for her phone. Scrolling through her texts, she flashed one in front of the guy.

Without so much as a nod, he stepped aside and let us pass. We walked down a long, dark hall, and with every step we took, a beat that shook my insides grew heavier. I couldn’t make out the music or if it was coming from above or below us, but when it started shaking the hallway walls, I knew Alex was right. It was going to be loud.

Finally, the hall ended at a row of elevators that looked somehow even older than the building. I followed Alex into the only one available—I wasn’t sure if that was because the half dozen others were in use or because they were busted—and once I’d closed the metal screen door, Alex punched the B on the panel and the elevator jerked into motion.