She winks, and he ushers me around tables until we reach the far corner. The decorations are limited to road signs, except for a single deer head with a pair of bright pink panties hanging from an antler.
“Classy,” I say under my breath, but Chaz’s lips twitch.
He leans against the wall and snatches up the phone while I run my hand to the back of the shelf, dragging a few quarters out. But before I feed them into the slot, Chaz taps the receiver against his forehead.
“Shit,” he says. “Shit, shit.” He hangs it back up and rubs his face. “I don’t know anyone’s phone number.”
I close my eyes, realizing I don’t either.
A low chuckle rumbles from behind us, and seconds later, a guy slings his arm over Chaz’s shoulders. “Need an old man to show you how this thing works?” The top few buttons of his blue jumpsuit are popped open, his white undershirt wet from recently spilled beer. “You two look like you’ve been through it. What brings you here?”
Chaz blows out a breath. “I need a fucking drink.”
He heads back to the bar, leaving me with—if I’m to believe the name stitched above his pocket—Jerry, who takes over Chaz’s spot on the wall.
“Desert tour,” I say. “They left us behind.” Then before he can put too much thought into whether it’s a viable excuse, “Do you know if anyone has a cell phone we could use? We need to look up the number for the tour company.”
Jerry barks out a laugh that makes me jump. “No cell phone reception out here. No Wi-Fi either, before you ask. You’ll need to get on the highway and go for about forty minutes.”
Great. Chaz and I have both been around since before cell phones and landlines, yet here we are, screwed the second we lose access to modern conveniences.
“Thanks anyway.”
I make it a few steps before he says, “My kids are heading that way in the morning. They can take you and your boyfriend if you still need a ride.”
I force a smile over my shoulder, so he knows I heard his offer.
When I land on the barstool next to Chaz, he already has two empty shot glasses in front of him and is lifting a third. He glances over, throwing it back, and then slides me a fourth.
I take it, the whiskey biting on the way down. I make a face, my nose burning. “We probably shouldn’t be drinking until we’ve had some water and eaten.”
“You’re probably right.” He smiles as Patty refills the glasses and pushes two over. “But I don’t think either of us gives a fuck right now.”
I can’t argue. It looks like we’re stuck here—wherever here is—and I could use a few hours of not thinking.
He takes one shot after the other, then he watches me tip mine back.
The next time Patty walks by and sees our empty glasses, she leaves the bottle.
“She won’t hit anything,” Jerry says.
It’s the same thing he said on my last turn and the one before. And like those other times, my next dart lands on the board for triple points.
“I’ll be damned,” he says.
Like the other times.
I’ve been kicking his ass at darts while Chaz nurses a beer at a table nearby. Night only fell an hour ago, but we’ve already been drunk and back again because we have nothing better to do. The crowd of heartbeats is concealing ours, and leaving means we’d chance Hex tracking us down, so we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere in Arizona for the night.
Jerry offered to let us sleep in his cousin Rudy’s camper. A bunch of the people here live a few miles away in what sounds like a Mojave version of Slab City but with electricity and running water. Rudy’s out of state, visiting his girlfriend in Nevada. At a prison.
The group around Jerry is still roaring over my win when I glance over at the broody angel. He’s spinning the crystal stone that shows him Kai and Avery on the tabletop, but he’s focused on me. Our stare holds like the first time we were in a bar together. His eyes soften, back to the way they were then, magnetic and drawing me in.
It only lasts a few seconds. Then he blinks. Looks away. And the moment’s gone.
The pull remains though.
I sit down beside him, but his head stays down, tension refilling the space between us. As I fold my feet up on the chair, I watch his hand flexing underneath the table. Shadows appear in his palm and then disappear once it closes. I force my eyes up, pretending I didn’t notice.
We ride with Jerry and his wife to the little collection of RVs and trailers. They’re scattered around like a real neighborhood, most with lawn chairs or a picnic table outside. A few have Christmas lights strung around fabric awnings or fake grass on the ground outside the doors.
Rudy’s Palace—as the sign out front states—is stuck in the seventies. Brown shag carpet stretches from end to end, orange cushions cover the bench seating on either side of a bright yellow laminate table, and the tiny Formica counter beside the sink has a daisy pattern. But all that really matters is the real bed in the back and the bathroom with a shower stall and hot water.
Within twenty minutes, I’ve used a fourth of a bottle of generic vanilla-smelling body wash and just as much strawberry shampoo. I rip the tag off the underwear I found in the bedroom, still in the bag. Turns out, Rudy’s girlfriend and I are close in size. The only other things I’d wear of hers, though, are the pair of sweatpants and plain black tank I dug out of the closet.
I’m still combing my fingers through my wet hair when I come out. Chaz is leaning against the counter. He’s tall enough that if he pushed onto the balls of his feet, the top of his head would graze the ceiling, and even after he straightens, I brush against him as I pass.
He has gym shorts in his hand and a gray shirt. But what I fixate on is the blue tie with an unfortunate flower pattern.
Since I doubt he plans on wearing it, I roll my eyes. “We’re in the middle of nowhere with a demon chasing our heartbeats. I’m not going anywhere.”
“The tie isn’t for now,” he says, walking to the bathroom. “It’s for when we go to bed.”
Before I can respond, he drags the paneled accordion door closed. The shower turns on a second later.
Even though I’ve spent the last three days outside, I leave the inside door open and sit on the steps. I relax back against the metal screen door and sigh. Tomorrow, we’ll be back in civilization. I can check on Nyla, move her somewhere Hex can’t find her. Somewhere Abaddon can’t find me.
“Trailers work best if you sleep inside of ’em.”
I raise my head. The guy is standing next to the Rudy’s Palace sign with a plastic bag in his hand. Long legs bring him the rest of the way. I take him in—the checkered shirt with a pocket, distressed jeans, gorgeous brown eyes with dark hair to match.
“Nyx, I take it?” He smiles when I nod and hands me the bag. “Jared.” Then he quickly adds, “Jerry’s son. My mom thought you two might need a few things.”
“Oh my God,” I say, checking inside. Unopened deodorants, toothbrushes, toothpaste, a comb. “Thank you. I mean, tell her thank you.”