Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(10)

My mouth dried in panic and arms squeezed Brax so tight, his ribcage bruised my biceps. Oh, my God! I wanted off. This isn’t my idea of fun.

Brax laughed as we straightened and drove with the mass. His happiness wrapped around us like a protective bubble, and I tried to stop hyperventilating.

My heart softened. He was enjoying this, and I wouldn’t ruin it. I trusted him to keep me safe.



*



An hour later, a waterfall of sweat ran under my t-shirt. The bright sun had landed me with a headache, and my brain felt cooked in the helmet. More than once, I’d tried to pull away from Brax’s back, but we were both so hot and sticky, it was disgusting.

We’d relaxed enough to enjoy driving through the labyrinths of streets, exploring side alleys, skirting around markets and peddlers, but now my ass ached, and my thighs had had enough of the vibrations of the scooter.

I needed a drink and somewhere cool—very, very cool.

Almost as if he heard my thoughts, Brax slowed to a stop outside a tiny, decrepit restaurant on the outskirts of the markets we’d driven around.

It looked anything but sanitary, with a sad donkey pi?ata hanging limp in the sun. The ripped plastic tablecloths didn’t encourage one to linger, and the sign was so blackened with filth, I couldn’t read the name.

“Ugh—” I exploded into a cough as a cloud of exhaust billowed from a rusty car. Very hygienic.

Brax stroked my hands, still clutched around his middle. “You okay?”

I nodded, sucking in a harsh breath. “Yep. I was going to say, surely we can find something better than this dive?”

Brax clambered off the bike, helping me off. My legs were the consistency of rubber. I’d ridden a horse in my childhood and even spread-eagled on a fat animal was better than the scooter. Going over bumps and potholes wasn’t good for my lady parts.

“I’m dying of thirst.” Pursing his lips, he took in the dank appearance. “We’ll just grab a quick drink and leave.” Brax unclipped his helmet and tied it to the handlebars. I did the same, almost puddling to the ground in relief to remove the hotbox from my lank hair.

Brax chuckled. “Bad hair day, huh?”

I reached up, running a hand through his sweaty locks. He leaned into my touch, love sparking in his eyes.

I giggled. “A helmet on a hot day doesn’t exactly equate to sexy hair.”

He pushed his big fingers into my own tangled strands. “I think you look sexy no matter what.” Running fingers down my cheek, he kept going, all the way to my hand.

Threading his fingers with mine, he leaned in, kissing me gently. “Hopefully, this place has cold drinks and ice.”

My skin was on fire and the thought of ice made my mouth water, but I shook my head. “Not allowed ice, remember? Only bottled water. Our Aussie bellies can’t handle the local H2O.”

He sighed. “Good point. Alright, I’ll just have a beer.”

“If you think you’re drinking and driving in this mess they call traffic, you have another thought coming, mister.” I laughed as we entered the gloom of the little café—if it could be called that—more like a falling down cave. The walls were peeling and tacky posters hung sticky-taped in random places, hiding pockmarking in the plaster. I frowned… they looked just like— Hell, are they bullet holes?

Trepidation crawled like icy spiders in my blood. I squeezed Brax’s hand as intuition sat up, ringing a loud warning gong. I was a firm believer in listening to my gut—it saved me more than once. “Brax?”

A woman with tobacco stained teeth grinned a holey smile as she appeared. “Well, well, nice to see some customers on such a hot day.” Her accented voice rasped across my skin like sandpaper. “What can I get you?”

My heart wouldn’t stay still. I wanted to say something. I wanted to leave. But Brax grinned. “Two Cokes, please.”

The woman peered at me, her gaze dark as midnight. “No food?”

I stiffened, hating how jittery I was, how much I wanted to run. Before Brax could decide he was hungry, as well as thirsty, I said, “Just drinks. And quickly, we’re supposed to be somewhere, we’re running late.” My snappy tone caused Brax to quirk an eyebrow.

The lady grimaced, shuffling away.

Brax tugged me to a table, and we sat directly under a ceiling fan stirring the hot, stagnant air. Sweat grew tacky on my skin, cooling to a chill. I grabbed a napkin to wipe my face.

“What’s gotten into you?” Brax asked, wiping the back of his neck with his hand.

I looked behind, trying to figure out why my spidey senses wigged out of control, but nothing seemed wrong. It was just a shabby eatery. No more. Maybe I was being stupid….

“Nothing. Sorry. I really want to go back to the hotel for a swim, that’s all.” I flashed a smile.

He grinned, his shiny face pink from the drive. “We’ll go as soon as we’re done.” Laughing, he added, “We must look like such gringos. No wonder the waitress gave us a weird look.”

My gut clenched. Somehow, I knew that wasn’t the reason. She’d looked at me almost…hungrily.

A scuffle sounded behind; I twisted in the chair to look. Toward the back of the restaurant, near the cash register, a man appeared. His voice was low, angry, as he shook the waitress, fingers digging into her upper arm.