Wicked (A Wicked Saga, #1)(44)

"What about you?"

"I did the whole drinking and partying thing before I turned twenty-one." He reached down, patting my bent knee. "Drove my parents crazy. Looking back, I was a f*cking brat. They were off risking their lives and dealing with me coming home drunk off my ass. Surprised they didn't murder me in my sleep." He laughed, mostly to himself. "But you know how it was. We went to public school but always had to come home straight afterward."

"To train." I cringed, recalling my high school years. Kids had thought I was weird because I never got involved in any afterschool stuff, didn't go to games, and only hung out with other kids whose parents were in the Order—other kids like me. All and all, it wasn't that bad for me.

"We really didn't have much of a life. So I acted out." His shoulders rose. "At least I got it out of my system. I still like a beer or a drink, but getting shitfaced isn't a priority. What about you?"

"It had its rough moments, but it was okay. I had . . ." I didn't let myself finish. I'd been lucky because I had Shaun, first as a friend and then as more. "I don't drink that much now. Don't really like the taste."

He was quiet, and it was just the idling of the engine. "Your parents still alive?" I asked.

"Yeah. And yes, they're still a part of the Elite." There was a pause. "What about you?"

I bit my lip. "No. Both are dead. My real parents were killed when I was just a baby, and then Holly and Adrian adopted me. They couldn't have kids of their own, so they raised me."

"And they're gone too?"

A familiar burn infiltrated my chest. "They're gone too."

"Damn," he said. "Sorry to hear that you've known such loss."

I really didn't know how to respond to that, but I murmured thank you and wished I hadn't gone that far with the conversation. Sharing things like this bonded you to people, and that made things so much harder when you . . . when you lost them. I didn't know how many times I warned myself not to get close, but I hadn't listened when it came to Val. Not even with grouchy old Jerome or even David.

And now I was doing it with Ren.

Some of the fun was sucked out of the bike ride after that, but that was good. I needed to focus. This wasn't playtime. I wasn't here to get to know Ren and become friends with him, and despite what he believed, it wasn't just because I wasn't willing to admit that I liked him.

I just wasn't willing to go there with anyone.

Ren seemed to sense that I was done with the chatting because he was uncharacteristically quiet. We'd passed the hotel twice before finding a spot down the street to park. There wouldn't be a lot of time for us to wait, but we didn't have to worry about it. From our vantage point, we saw the black sedan pull up in front of the hotel. No more than three minutes later, the ancient came out dressed like he was last week when I saw him. He climbed into the back of the sedan, and then they were off, driving past us.

"Hold on," Ren ordered.

Tightening my grip around his waist, I held on as he made a sharp turn, cutting expertly between an SUV and a convertible. My heart still ended up in my throat. The SUV laid on its horn, but Ren veered to the right, passing the convertible. I peered over his shoulder, spying the sedan four cars ahead. He glided the bike back into traffic, trailing the sedan from a safe distance.

Streetlamps were flipping on as the sun faded into the horizon, the glare lessening as dusk settled around us. The sedan came to a stop in front of a club I'd never seen. Remodeled in one of the older warehouses, Flux was obviously newer, and it looked upscale—the large front windows were tinted out, the sign above was in elegant cursive, and a valet was waiting by the bronze double doors. The building itself was several stories high, and as I looked up, I could see white canopies rolling in the breeze. There was a crowd outside the club, the men dressed nicely and the women in short, slinky dresses.

Ren continued down the street, parking about half a block away as I twisted in my seat, watching the sedan. The ancient—Marlon— got out of the car, and I tensed as I saw another ancient step out from under the black awning.

"It's him," I said into the helmet. "The one who shot me. He's here meeting Marlon."

As Ren killed the engine on the bike, I watched the ancient grip Marlon's hand. A one-armed embrace followed, and it looked like Marlon was speaking to the other ancient. Seeing the two of them together unnerved me. Part of me wanted to hop off the bike and dash across the street, catching them off-guard. But I didn't have the weapons necessary to do any damage. The two ancients strolled inside the club, their heads bent together. Mortals followed after them.

Shifting to the side, Ren hit the kickstand on the bike. I started to take my helmet off, but he caught my hand. "Hold on for a sec." He nodded down the street. The sedan was pulling away from the curb, easing past us. "He's had a mortal driving him. I saw him yesterday. He didn't look as if Marlon was feeding off of him, and it's possible the guy has no idea who he's working for, but let's not take that chance."

Once the sedan turned the corner a block down, Ren let go of my hand and we took our helmets off. He scrunched his fingers through his hair. His waves were going everywhere. "This is the first time I've seen another ancient meet him here. I figured that's what they were doing. This just confirms it."