Start a War (Saint View Psychos #1)(6)

It couldn’t be what it seemed. I was blowing the entire thing out of proportion, and if I drove the streets like a madman, I’d end up writing off Caleb’s car.

The ritzy upper-class neighborhoods outside quickly turned into the suburban houses on the border, but from there, it was all downhill into the depths of Saint View. The houses and businesses outside became more ramshackle with every passing street, broken windows the norm, and overgrown yards, long abandoned by their occupants. The main street boasted little more than a strip club with a neon-pink sign and a large crowd of men hanging around out in front.

I leaned on the door locks, popping the central locking, and drove faster.

Deep in the heart of the Saint View seediness, Siri directed me down a lane barely wide enough for Caleb’s car and into a parking lot at the back. I blinked in surprise at the number of cars hidden back here, but I wasn’t going to waste time driving around, looking for a free spot. I parked right up at the door before I could think about it and got out.

The building was huge, a big enough space for several businesses, and yet the only sign on the wall was one of a deranged clown, the letters, PSYCHOS, painted between his pointed, blood-dipped teeth.

I shuddered at the image, my brother’s old warnings flooding back in from the one time I’d asked to go to his bar.

“This isn’t a place for you, Bliss. I mean it. I don’t care if you’re twenty-one. I’ll have the bouncer throw you out on your ass before you even step a foot inside the door.”

I’d believed him, because he’d never lied to me before. If Axel thought his new business wasn’t somewhere I needed to be, I trusted he’d said it for a reason.

So I’d put his bar out of my mind for years. I wasn’t much of a bar-goer anyway. I didn’t drink alcohol often, and if my friends and I did go out, there was no way their Louboutin soles would be touching the grimy floor of a bar in the hood.

Maybe once upon a time I’d been a hood rat kid from a trailer park just around the corner. But after my dad took me in, things changed. Day by day, I grew soft, fueled by a loving, safe home, and constant food on the table.

I’d put this life behind me.

And now I was about to reopen the door.

So I slammed my fist against the locked door. I pounded against the clown’s terrifying face and wondered why Axel had gone for such horrible branding. It was hardly welcoming.

But maybe that was the point.

To keep out people like me.

The door opened, and two burly bouncers eyed me.

“I need to see Axel,” I demanded.

The two of them glanced at each other, then the bigger one folded his arms across his chest. “Think you got the wrong place, sweetheart.”

“I don’t,” I insisted, standing my ground, even though my knees trembled ever so slightly. I hoped the tulle of my dress hid it. “Axel Fuller owns this bar, right?”

The man shrugged, stepping aside. “This should be interesting.”

I didn’t stay long enough to ponder what he meant by that. I pushed my way past and into the darkness of the bar.

Deep, thumping music poured from hidden speakers. The bass vibrated up into the soles of my feet and through my entire body. It somehow managed to be both sexy and dark all at once. Nobody danced though. I weaved my way between bodies, all standing in groups with drinks in hand. I didn’t say a word or make a noise, but every single person stopped their conversations to stare at me anyway.

I couldn’t even blame them. I’d worn a ball gown to a dive bar. I didn’t exactly blend in with their denim, leather, and bare skin.

I struggled by one woman in a tiny leather miniskirt, her top barely more than a strap that covered her nipples, and tugged my dress up over my breasts. She hissed at me, and I turned away quickly.

I wanted to turn around. With every step, my skin prickled with awareness I didn’t like. One that screamed, “Run. You don’t belong here.” I knew it as well as every person I passed who stopped and stared. I felt their presences closing in until I was sure this was what claustrophobia felt like.

But that gunshot echoing through my ears couldn’t be forgotten, and so I pressed on, searching the crowd of faces for my brother. One glimpse of his face, and then I’d be out of here and back to Caleb’s side like nothing had happened. Maybe by then he’d be drunk enough to not even remember I’d made a scene and commandeered his car.

I yelped as somebody grabbed a handful of my behind, and spun around, trying to work out who it was. The men surrounding me all laughed, and heat burned in my cheeks. I scurried away from their jeers and taunts and wandering hands.

“Excuse me. Do you know Axel?” I asked a woman carrying a tray of glasses with a deep-brown liquid inside them. I wasn’t sure if she worked there or if she was just carrying drinks back to her friends. It’s not like anyone there had a uniform and a name tag with a cheerful, ‘How can I help you?’ greeting below it.

Her gaze raked over me before coming to land on my face. “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you wearing, lady?”

I smoothed my hands over my dress self-consciously. I didn’t have much of a temper, but all the stares and the unwanted groping, mixed with a healthy dose of fear, pushed it right up to the surface. “A paper sack,” I snapped at her. “Do you like it?”

Sarcasm and disdain barbed each word, and she raised one eyebrow.