Marked (A Dark Serial Killer Romance)
Marked: Chapter 6

A thick cloud of cotton candy vape floats across the bar and into my face. I follow the cloud to a college kid standing in the crowd, with an empty beer glass.

“Hey!” I lean over the bar and yell. I can barely hear myself over the music thumping in the background. Carl brought in a DJ for the weekends. It worked in attracting more customers, but it’s also made it hell to hear anyone.

“Hey!” I wave my hand toward the kid as he brings the vape back to his mouth. “You can’t do that in here. You gotta go outside!” I jerk my thumb toward the front door.

He frowns.

“It’s not smoke,” he argues, yelling over the two people standing in front of him waiting for their turn to be served.

“I don’t care. You can’t do it here. Outside,” I yell back, then lean in to hear the girl who’s ordering her third rum and Coke of the night. I snag her cash and get the drink for her.

“You got those guys over there?” Carl, the owner and second bartender for the night gestures to the line in front of me.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I place the glass on a cocktail napkin and push it toward the girl. “Here you go.”

She smiles as she takes it, then turns into the crowd and is swallowed by it.

I take the next orders, quickly making my way through the kids waiting for their drinks. Checking my watch, I sigh with some relief. Only an hour left of my shift.

The time sails by when it’s busy like this, and every Friday night is crazy. I love my teaching job, but I’ve only been on the payroll for three years. Not exactly high up on the pay scale. Working here over the summer helps pack away cash.

“What can I get you?” I ask, feeling someone step up while I’m cleaning some glasses.

“Whiskey.” A deep voice rolls over the bar, wrapping around me. A warm tingle runs through me.

When I look up, I confirm what my body already knew.

“Zack.” I smile before I can help myself. The pull this man has on me is unreal. It’s like his energy sucks me into him the moment he gets near me.

“Hey.” He grins.

“Sorry. Whiskey, you said?” I blink a few times after I realize I’m staring at him.

He just gives a little nod. I get his drink for him and put it on the bar.

“Are you here with anyone?” I ask, looking for a group of friends maybe, or a girl. What if he’s with a girl?

The stab of jealousy surprises me.

“No.” He lays a fifty down on the bar and slides it to me. “Keep the change.”

“That’s too much. I can’t.” I pick up the bill.

“You can. And you will.” He arches that eyebrow again.

I keep quiet while I tap the transaction into the iPad.

“What brings you here then?” I look behind him to be sure there’s no one waiting on a drink. It’s starting to slow down now that it’s almost closing. The college kids have filed out to replace a bar that’s open past two, and the regulars are starting to pour themselves into cabs to roll home to sleep it off.

“You.” He takes a small sip of the whiskey.

“How’d you know I work here?” I tilt my head. “Are you following me again?”

He laughs.

“I’m really good at getting information I want,” he says.

“And you wanted to know where I work?”

“I want to know more than that, but I figured I’d do the normal thing and let you tell me.” He winks and takes another sip.

The last time a man winked at me, I was serving him a cup of coffee at the professors’ luncheon my senior year. He thanked me with a pinch on my ass and a wink.

No one noticed.

He winked a second time when I walked past his table with a tray of cheesecake slices and asked me for more coffee.

When I returned with a freshly brewed pot of coffee, the woman sitting next to him asked for a cup as well. I shook my head at her and moved his cup to the edge of the table so I could get a good pour. And then, I poured the pot of piping hot coffee into his lap.

He screamed and bolted up from his chair, knocking it and me out of the way. I only got to spill half the coffee on him, but he still went home with fresh burns to his thighs.

I lost my job.

It was worth it.

But when I look at Zack, and he winks, it’s not the same. There’s no crudeness here. Just confidence and charm.

“Hey! I know you!” a man slurs as he slides up next to Zack, trying to shove him out of the way so he can get in front of me.

But Zack doesn’t move, he’s like a brick wall.

The drunk man has no idea what’s happening, so he just stays pressed up against Zack.

“Can I get you something? A cup of coffee maybe?” I ask. He’s clearly drunk.

He shakes his head while wagging his finger at me.

“No. No. I know you. You’re that girl.” He snaps his fingers, looking from me to Zack. “You know, the girl. She was on the news last night.”

My stomach twists. I don’t know why I thought this year would be any different. There’s always some journalist who wants to dredge up the past. They always say it’s in the name of justice. Bringing more eyes to the case might help solve it.

Truth is, they just want the ratings. And our story brings the ratings.

“Here. On the house.” I pour a cup of lukewarm coffee and slide it across the bar at him. The music’s lower now. There’s almost no one on the dance floor anymore and the DJ is getting ready to pack up.

“You’re…fuck, what’s your name?” His bushy eyebrows knit together and his mouth puckers as he tries to place me.

“Why don’t you take your coffee and replace a place to sober up?” Zack brings the cup closer to the drunkard, but it only pisses him off more.

His brows knit together and his bloodshot, watery eyes narrow.

“Quinn!” He snaps his fingers again, then his mouth splits into a grin, exposing a missing tooth.

A chill runs up my back. “No. That was my sister. Please, go drink your coffee.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He frowns. “You’re the other one. The one that didn’t get killed. Man, I’m sorry about that. What happened? That was horrible.” He’s rambling now. “But all the money, that had to be good right?” He laughs a little.

Zack reaches behind the guy, and grabs him by the back of his shirt collar.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Last chance to walk away.” Zack’s eyes narrow, his entire presence is like a storm cloud barreling down on us. The chill turns warm as it runs through my body.

This man is dangerous.

I can see in his eyes; he has no problem bringing this drunk asshole pain.

“I was just asking.” The drunk shakes his head. “I mean, your sister gets blown away right in front of you and it could have been you, wow. Right? I mean, if you had been the one chosen to die instead of live? Yeah. Wow. Really fucks with your brain.” He’s still rambling when Zack yanks him from the stool and drops him to the floor.

“I think that’s enough tonight.” Zack doesn’t give him a chance to get up, he just stalks toward the exit, dragging the drunk guy along with him like a pet rock on a leash.

“What’s going on?” Carl runs up to me.

“The guy was causing a problem. Don’t worry, he’s leaving,” I say, my face heats.

“Who’s the guy dragging him?”

“That’s Zack,” I say with a small tug on my lips.

“Zack, huh?” Carl looks at me and shakes his head. “Just make sure there’s nothing to clean up. Why don’t you clock out? Me and Jason can close up tonight.”

“You sure?”

He glances at Zack, who’s walking back inside from the front door, without the drunk, and he nods. “Yeah. I think you have better things to do tonight anyway.” Carl takes the cup of untouched coffee. “Besides, it’s about time you had something other than a book to keep you company at night.”

He laughs at his own cleverness and walks away.

“He’s gone.” Zack says, planting his hands on the bar. “He won’t be back, either.”

“You didn’t hurt him, did you?” I can’t pretend that I’m not a little excited at the idea that maybe he did.

“He’ll live.” There’s a splotch of blood on his knuckles. He follows my gaze to it. “Not mine.”

“Good.” I take his hand and wipe the blood away with my towel. “Thanks. You didn’t have to do that though.”

“He was bothering you.”

“It’s this time of year,” I explain. “The news will run a few stories about what happened. I’ll get a few people who recognize me, and then in a few weeks, it will all blow over.”

“Doesn’t give him the right to poke a wound.”

“Guess not.”

“You off soon?”

“I’m off now.”

“Good.” He retracts his hand. “Get your stuff. I’ll take you home.”

“Maybe I have my car.” I’m flirting, and it’s the most normal thing I’ve done in ages.

“You don’t have a car, Harley Turner.” He winks again.

“How do you know that?”

“I told you; I make it my business to know what I want to know. Now, let’s go.”

It takes me no time at all to grab my purse and punch out for the night. Then Zack leads me to his car, parked in a lot on the next street over.

I stop as he opens the passenger door for me. A single streetlamp shines down on the empty lot, casting him in a shadow as he holds the door open for me.

“I’m not sure.” I hold my purse in front of me, as though it could protect me from him. I don’t think anything would protect against this man when he wants something.

“Not sure about what?” he asks, not at all pissed about my hesitation. He’s patient. He’ll wait until I’m ready.

It’s weird how much I can sense about him.

“How do I know you won’t hurt me? That you’re not some serial killer?” Considering my past, I should have some radar for this.

He steps up to me until his toes press against my sneakers. The heavy scent of leather and spice fills the space between us as he slips both hands into my hair, pulling my head back.

“I will never hurt you, Harley. I promise, and I never break my promises.” He seals his vow with a kiss, a soft kiss that turns hard and possessive within a breath.

And I’m lost to it. Lost to him.

A storm could burst right on top of us, but all I would feel, would know, is his touch and him.

“All right,” I say breathlessly when he breaks contact and pulls back just enough for me to see his eyes. “Do you need directions to my apartment?”

He flashes a lopsided grin.

“What do you think?” And then he winks again.

Playful and sexy.

“No. You don’t.”