heart-shaped box

“I can’t believe you made me late!” Una yelled, getting out of the car once Bobby parked it right at the entrance of Snake Eyes nightclub. She slammed the door right behind her, throwing caution to the wind. In fact, she nearly walked out into incoming traffic, some truck honking violently at her as it swerved to get around her. And yet she wasn’t fazed, simply stomping to get around her boyfriend's car. 

“Pick me up at 4 a.m.,” she mumbled bitterly, tossing the strap of her mini backpack over her shoulder, pure ice toward her inconsiderate boyfriend and not even bothering to look at him before she began to walk away. The sooner she could pay off her mother's debt with the douchebag the better, because she wasn't going to be able to stomach the charade for much longer.

At least the world of Snake Eyes would be Una's escape with its blinding lights and thumping music. Some time on the stage would do her good to clear her mind. As she turned, she saw—ahead of her by just a few steps—someone familiar. The last person she wanted to see, and the last person she wanted to see that altercation between her and Bobby. With a sigh, she stopped just in front of Vince, already wincing at what he could say. “Shit. How much of that did you see?”

She hoped that maybe a sugary-sweet smile would soften whatever blow, whatever lecture, whatever anything he had in store for her. "How ya doin' tonight, Vincey? Kick out any scumbags yet?" The rowdy crowd usually came after midnight, but maybe if something had already gone down, would switch the focus off of her. However, the sun was just barely set; it looked like a big plum in the sky, casting purple shadows over Vegas. The night was just beginning.

Since Vince wasn’t knocking teeth down someone’s throat in an underground ring, he was doing it elsewhere in a more sophisticated manner; a gig he happened to find himself lenient towards. The atmosphere changes once the sun begins to set. Casino marquees illuminate the sky. Inhibitions begin to fade and those with eccentric fashion senses begin to grow impatient for entry.

A lit cigarette hung loosely from his lips, his expression remaining stoic while the smoke exited his nostrils. When the round of checking IDs began, something had caught his eye and a dry chuckle escaped his lips. “Get lost, kid. Chuck E. Cheese is on the other side of town.” He dismissed bluntly, motioning with the wave of a hand while throwing a fake ID back in a younger man’s face. This wasn’t the first time someone under twenty-one had attempted to sneak their way inside.

Shortly after, Vince’s head snapped up and his full attention was given at the commotion ensuing, eyes narrowing at the scene. Having caught most of the havoc, he signaled the other bouncer to take over. Vince stepped away from the entrance 'til he was face to face with someone all too familiar. “Most of it.” He replied cooly at the question, flicking his cigarette on the ground and snuffing it out with his charcoaled oxfords.

Vince knew what her intentions were but happened to play along momentarily. “Nice to see ya' again, Una. I’m cool as a cucumber. And no, unfortunately, not yet.” Putting emphases on the ‘t’, he gave a feigned look of disappointment. Dropping the act not long after, he shook his head with a tsk. “Ain’t that the guy I’ve thrown out more times than I can count?” He questioned rhetorically, arms crossing over his chest while he eyed her sternly as if he were scolding like some parental figure.

“I’m not gonna lecture you. I gave you an earful last time, and you’ve got your reasons.” Which was true, the prior instance of ‘taking out the garbage’ was a dumpster fire. Though he held up a finger to indicate he wasn't finished. "Thing is, I'm gonna keep a closer eye on you tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts about it." Sure, it may have seemed dramatic or overly protective for that matter, but he wasn't in the mood to take chances.

She should have been there . . .

Regret taking a juicy portion of the remaining fragile composure. Slow shake of the head, gnawing at the tender meat of the inside part of the cheek on the statement about his loss. Many things the complex woman was, but hypocritical not one of them. Pride -- a heavy ball of lead, weighing them both down, and leading them to this devastating moment. Even after the rollercoaster ride of the last evening they spent together in the Mad dog Maddox, after clear indications that their attraction can't be reduced to simple lust, that they were unable to wash off the scent of the other along with the crave for their presence after the erotic dance they shared for a night, Clare refused to return to Castello's underground arena. Far from the eyes, far from the foolish heart -- ' experimental medicine ' the ruby haired woman chose. . . what she sowed, she reaped now -- one painful look on the mess on the handsome face as an agonizing reminder.

" You didn't. You didn't fuck up anything. " Firmness of the response unfaltering. Chartreuse orbs captured the icy blues, thumb mindlessly gazing the chin with care. " Not even king Leonidas and the three hundred Spartans could defeat the Persians in one go. . . but they remained on their feet, bloodied and bruised, proud. . . like you should be. " Tenderness and integrity in the euphonious voice stripped from any bitterness it usually carried. She suddenly withdrew her fingers from the damaged area as if she had touched an ember, when she saw his reaction. Stress and concern levels skyrocketed as she listened to Vince's words. Coldness? Symptom never promising nothing good, certainly when a result of a fight. Difficulty breathing? Broken, or best case scenario -- cracked ribs. Rage rose like a tide, pearly whites nearly breaking under the pressure of the clenched jaw. Whoever he fought, won't be seeing the new light of day. Instant protective reaction, not clear thinking, just the inextinguishable desire to crucify the one responsible, along with the useless ' pretend to be ' medic. . . even Paul was more in the lines of the murder circle than out.

Tension in his chain of muscle snapped her back, forgetting everything -- even the fact this was not her home nor was she invited in, while slowly, carefully leading him back in. The space around her blank to her perception, even if there was a Cerberus sitting on the coffee table, wearing a dinosaur costume and dancing ballet, Clare would be oblivious to it. Only thing that she allowed her eyes to acknowledge was the wounded man she cared so deeply for she would trade for his misfortunate outcome in a heartbeat, and a beaten up ,tasteless patterned sofa. Lowering the man much larger than herself with strict precision not to even brush the painful parts, Clare darted out of the house in the moment his back was greeted with the sofa's satiny pillow. Clock didn't even count down a full minute before the woman emerged from the sooty shadows, forgetting to slam the front door shut. A canvas bag with a chemistry joke printed on it, saying : What do you do with a dead chemist? Barium, from which one could hear the clinking of pills and mysterious metal objects, fell on the glass surface of the coffee table.

" Lower the robe. " Controlled tone ordered, but before she continued, she quickly added. " No smart ass comments. " Raising the index finger to warn him, knowing Vince being the type of guy that would rather bite his tongue off than swallow a dirty joke, Clare had no nerves to spare -- they were strained to their limits because of the uneasiness caused by his state. Pulling a few colorful bottles neatly marked with Latin names, fingers pulled three small pills, placing them gently in his palm. " Drink it, it will stop the pain but won't make you dazed nor make you sleepy. Having no time to wait for him to expose the area that concerned her the most, swift fingers curled over the robe, pulling the upper part off vigilantly. The striking purple-blue with yellow edges made her eyebrows droop and her nostrils flare in anger. "Fucking son of a bitch. . . I swear to Christ. . . " swallowing the tail of the sentence, snow-white teeth bit the tip of the tongue. There was no X-rays, so this had to be done the old fashioned way. Retrieving one more pill shaped like an egg, blue-ish in color, Clare crushed it with a glass bottle of water she pulled from the bag. " Open. " Placing the pill dust without waiting for approval in the mouth, she pushed the water in his hand. " It will numb the senses for a short period of time, enough so I can examine you. I hope its just cracked. . not broken. "

As strong as he was stubborn, the main injury given from his aggressive clash had been between a six-foot five, burly man in his mid-thirties who referred to himself as 'Ace'. An occasional attendee who had the upper hand compared to most of the other men. Whenever it was time for him and Vince to go against one another, neither one would stop until the other gave out; being deemed as one of the must see acts of the night. There’d been speculation that Ace was either on some type of narcotic or just someone built entirely different because the man had an intense adrenaline rush that wouldn’t tone itself down. Paul had to have his star pupil removed before things went too far, he just wouldn’t quit, even when he was at the brink of blacking out.

He cracked a weak smile at the encouragement behind her words, heart unable to prevent itself from feeling as if it were on cloud nine. Unexpected yet warm and welcoming. “Thank you.” It’d been something he needed to hear, especially in that perspective. Warriors who still stood tall with a sense of pride even after defeat. Allowing her to lead the way over towards the couch, he sat down and shifted in a comfortable position then watched her leave to retrieve much needed necessities. Blinking a couple of times to ensure this wasn’t a dream and in fact reality. The night at Mad dog Maddox had put another thick layer of icing on the cake and gave a clear indicator that what lingered between them went much deeper than they realized, whether they wanted to outright admit it or not.

Even if he felt as if he'd been run over by a truck, he was one to be in good spirits when given the opportunity, even in the most nerve-wracking scenario possible. Fighting the menacing smirk that followed, a strained laugh escaped his lips. "I'll be a good boy." Grimace followed after, feeling as if someone prodded him in the side with a spear. He watched observantly as several pill bottles spilled onto the table, a few rolling towards the edge from the impact but stopping just in time. Palm opened for the pills, and he popped them into his mouth, swallowing without hesitation and humming with approval. Body tensed at the removal of his robe to access the main injury, since he’d been too slow, upper half of him exposed and a shiver ran down his spine from the lack of warmth. Practically yanking the water out of her hand after fed the pill dust, he gulped down the liquid as if he’d been out wandering the desert. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand he sat the bottle beside him and a sigh left his lips. “Yeah…I’m hopin’ they’re cracked too.” He didn’t want to have to deal with the burden of broken ribs, that meant a longer recovery.

Glancing away he almost felt ashamed. The corners of his mouth turned down into a frown. More so at himself for making her worry to the point she had to track him down and go way out of her way to make sure he was okay. The fear he picked up and how she’d been on the verge of tears upon arrival felt like a sucker punch to the gut. Why couldn’t he have just quit? Mouth parted to speak, but quickly closed when he’d been cut off, and he caught on to how different her emotions were towards him compared to usual. Something he’d cherish internally. A month. A month or more without fighting caused his expression to falter, he’d be a sitting duck. Delicate fingers that began tending to the wound snapped him out of thought, the one Mantis had done so poorly, practically leaning into the touch, unfazed by the needle poking his skin. “Maybe I can coax Paul into letting you beat him up.” Trying to lighten the mood. He mumbled, meeting her softened gaze and swallowing thickly. Eyes cascading down toward her lips, a few repetitive takes until he broke eye contact and shook his head at the question that followed.

"No, didn't have much of an appetite. And hey, anyone who says alcohol isn't a breakfast staple is fuckin’ lying." He scoffed as if the statement were ludicrous, but the tone behind it wasn’t serious. Wrapping the robe loosely around him, he used the arm of the couch to push himself on his feet, holding up a hand to indicate he was fine, fingertips rubbing the corner of his eyes in hopes to soothe the irritation. Refusing to be in a lethargic state unless he had to, shuffling down the hall while gesturing her to follow. A couple of framed photographs scattered along deep burgundy walls, one standing out in particular; a recent family portrait of Eddie with his wife and kids, alongside a few pieces of gothic artwork. Heading towards the kitchen, he flipped on the light, squinting slightly at the brightness. “I have meat out the wazoo, not only in this fridge but a freezer full in the garage. Not all of it is for me though.” Referring to the hybrid peering on the other side the sliding glass door, ears folded back in suspicion, glowing eyes observing the interaction between owner and newcomer.

The sound of rolling tires on moist gravel pierced the darkness of the unholy hour. If it weren't for the dim light that barely made its way through the high windows of the old Spanish colonial house, gloomy evening would have mercilessly engulfed everything around it when the American muscle's headlights went off. Scarlet haired woman didn't realize how long she had been driving, the beautiful peaceful landscape where the crickets serenaded the moon, the tall grass swaying gently in the hot breeze, the edge of the forest stretching along the north side of the valley. . . she would have admired everything while keeping the oxygen in her lungs if her tunnel focus had not been on the red dot on the smartphone screen, which showed the destination of the entered coordinates. Clare fought with fangs and claws like a she-wolf defending her cubs to get hold of those numbers, to get the ' map ' that would lead her to him.

She never forgot to close the door and turn the key in the lock of her tin pet, now -- the car was left with the driver's door wide open, while the feet swallowed the meters. . . Blood pump was beating mercilessly, pulse hitting the soft skin, lower lip smeared with a blooming scarlet drips because how much the woman was gnawing away from the nervousness that was ripping the guts. She leapt up four stairs like a gazelle on the run, grabbing the door and gasping for air -- she didn't even let up, didn't take a break. A fist slammed aggressively on the door at least five times before a clear, penetrating voice joined the din. " Vincent?! Vincet open up! " the full name left a strange aftertaste on soft muscle, she always used the shortened version.

Worry poured from every pore as the seconds of deafening silence became a minute. A couple of thunderous fresh knocks, this time hitting the underside of the weathered mahogany door with the tip of her sneaker. " Vincet, open the door! " The palms were covered with a thin layer of cold sweat, the stomach was heaving bile. . . What if he is not conscious? What if the injuries are so dangerous and severe that it is impossible to make a sound, let alone reach the door? The thought injected a new dose of trepidation, dread possessing the hourglass shape as some ancient demon. Darting to the nearest window and getting on the tip of the toes, jade irises jumped from left to right in dismay, like a pink pong ball that players throw over the net. A thick layer of dust and a handful of thrown things obstructed the clear view. Few curses fell between the gritted teeth as she lunged at the door again, ready to break the lock with a porch chair.

Clink

Vince couldn't recall the last time he was able to sleep soundly due to being an insomniac. Ironically when it came to serious injuries his body happened to give out from exhaustion, allowing him to get some needed rest in. A canine companion lied on a multicolored rug right next to his bed, taking the role of a protector from sensing his owner wasn't in the best shape, amber eyes stared directly ahead through the crack of the bedroom door in hopes something would come through. Unaware of when sleep finally claimed him, he suddenly found himself being woken by the abrupt sound of large paws stampeding across the floor and a deep growl to alert they had company. He didn't want to wake, arm moving to pull another pillow over his head in attempt to tune out the noise. If Julian wanted in that bad the man had a key, but the knocking never ceased.

Sighing heavily through his nose, eyelids forcefully snapped open when the pounding at the door and the noise from the hybrid dog became much more intense, pillow being flung weakly across the king-sized bed. "Son of a bitch." The clock read three-thirty a.m. and he haphazardly threw blankets aside and stood up quickly, regretting that decision instantly when black dots clouded his vision while the room began to spin. It'd been almost too dark to see without the assistance of a night light, so he turned on the bedside lamp. Squinting while he walked, arms bending behind his head and chest becoming tight as he stretched, slowly dragging his feet across the bedroom floor while snatching his robe in the process. Every Saturday involved a repetitive routine, staying out until the early hours of the morning and coming home stumbling while leaving a trail of bloody clothes in his path. The only remedy involved dressing his wounds and soaking in the bathtub, all while a cigarette hung from his lips. This round didn't happen to go as planned, and Paul had to force him to go home after bug-man assisted. It was either that or the hospital, and Vince didn't want to have to go. Stubborn as he was, and because it supposedly wasn't severe enough for a visit.

"Alright, alright." Skull was pounding, bloodshot eyes felt as if they were going to bleed while optic nerves pulsed, muscles twitching from discomfort. He didn't know who in the hell would be at his doorstep at this hour, and boy was he ready to give this stranger a piece of his mind 'til he approached closer to hear a frantic voice shouting his name on top of a few more incoherent words. Clare? Was he dreaming? Signaling Balto to silence with a command, pointing and following the animal to go out the backdoor much to the disappointment of the canine. Grimacing while walking swiftly, he unlocked the front door, allowing her entry. There he stood with a slouched posture, looking like he came from hell and back, chest exposed, robe tied loosely around his waist, skin shined with a fine layer of sweat and hair sticking out in all directions.

Brad Pitt as Tyler Durden Promotional Photoshoot

Lurking eyes flashed under the dim light of the street lamps like bonfires, while thick smoke waltzed around the clenched jaw. He heard the sound of burning tires and the screams caused by aggressive driving that belonged on Formula 1 racetracks, not narrow streets full of pedestrians.

" I don't like him. " Hoarse voice expressed the thought that came to mind as soon as the car door opened and the man stepped out.

" Tig, you don't like your own damn mother. " Spanish accent continued as coal-dark eyes scanned the center of attention of the others.

" Exactly. I can tell a fucking problem when I see one. One look of that skinny crack whore and you wouldn't like her too. " Older man in his fifties with greasy dark locks spat out, returning his attention to Vince that was approaching the shadows.

" I would like your mother, in a few ways actually. " Pyke spat out through laughter, dodging the swift reaction from the other man that tried to grab his neck, but instead managing to land a semi-hard kick to Pyke's hip, while spitting curses in bad Spanish that he recalled hearing in old soap operas.

" Enough. He's coming. " clenched jaw bathed in smoke finally joined the conversation, tone much more serious and authoritative than he was half an hour ago in the apartment of the redhead he was now watching as she hurried into the bar.

" So, what are your thoughts on him Jace? Are we breaking his legs, arms, or going straight for the neck? " Pyke leaned on the truck parked next to the storage unit Jace mentioned to Vince, removing himself from view. There was a dead silence, the one in which you suppress a loud breathing, avoiding standing out in that nothingness. The tongue twirled the cigarette filter as ash fell like snow on the dark pavement. Jace watched the man with interest. Normally, a cursory scan would be enough for a quick conclusion, but this seemed different. He couldn't make a rash decision, not under these circumstances. He measured Vince from head to toe. Funny man. A shirt that is too short, a striking jacket, a smile spread over his face as if his whole life is a joke. An interesting change from the tense posture where he had to fend off an onslaught of testosterone and jealousy with all his might. Vince bounced off what Jace thought would be the Clare's type.

He pursed his lips as one eyebrow lowered over a focused eye. When he thinks about it, there was no mold for her selection. He saw bald, with hair, tattooed, in a shirt. . . they all looked like arrogant jerks, that was the only thing they had in common. This man was the opposite. But again. . . not one of them lasted more than a couple of hours, not one of them had a name, not one of them did she try to mention. Yes, Jace was sure he was going to have to handle this situation very differently. He stepped out of the shadows without answering to his ' subordinate ' when Vince addressed him. Half grin appeared in the corner of the mouth on the choice of words from the newcomer, already hearing the colorful, nasty answers of his crew hidden in the darkness. Ashes hung from the cigarette as Jace took his last drag of that sweet poison. Ashy blond man took the butt between his forefinger and thumb and launched it behind him, letting out the last cloud of smoke that shaped his words.

" Honestly mate, didn't think you would. " and he didn't, only wondered about the outcome. Much more tough-looking bastards lasted less in ' one on one ' with the notorious redhead. Suspension and restlessness could be felt in the heavy summer air. Like the vicious pack of wolves hidden under the blanket of pitch black night,waiting for their leader's signal, his crew listened in on the conversation -- searching for a hint or code from the president so they can attack. But that ' charge!' order never came.

" Alright then, lets get this thing done. " Casually, even with a hint of positive energy, Jace slapped the truck with his palm. " C'mn lads, can't have Barney's guests thirsty. And having this shit on the street for too long might attract some unwanted attention. Tig left quite a mess in that Guinness storage. " Everything said on purpose and with a hidden agenda. Throwing hints left and right to poke the awareness that this was stolen goods, searched for, in order to observe the man's reaction. Jace had zero tolerance for ' uncertainty '. Letting someone near his ' sister ' was equal to allowing them in his tight circle of trust. It wasn't that he thought Clare was unable to pass a decent judgment nor that she was unable to break this guy's teeth in more creative ways that any of his goons could, what worried him was -- if this goes horribly wrong and he betrays her, it might just be the actual end of her tries and a permanent lock on her heart and trust.

" Man they had cameras even up the guards ass. It was either go in guns blazing or try act all Ocean's 12 and get busted. No beer for you and no more pussy for me. And with all due respect Jace, I ain't trading my sweet butts for some hairy guy's ass in the prison. " Tig spat back, being the first one to come to light. Pale irises shot Vince an irritated look, but quickly they found their focus on the opening door of the truck.

" Vincent, right? Grab those barrels, they go in the back, then the whiskey boxes on the left front. Careful not to put nothing in front of the bull, we are pulling that one out in the end. " slapping the fake, smooth hair on the mechanic beast with realistic features and mighty sharp horns, Pyke started unloading the tuck.

" Yo blonde-blond, move that ass or the only Benjamin Franklin you'll see is if you go swing that ass around the stripper pole a few blocks down. " Tig didn't hide his slight resentment. Ironically, it was not anything personal, mature criminal simply was allergic to 'newcomers' after one of the alleged allies costed him five years of his life after snitching to the FBI to get a better deal about the meth lab Tig had in his grandma's basement. As far as Tig was concerned, even his twin brother Marius, these days going by the name of Father Peter, golden child that was a complete opposite of Tig, a priest, would get the same dose of skepticism and rudeness. If not, even more.

As the truck was getting emptier by the minute, Jace's eyes almost never left Vince. He observed him like a scientist who follows a certain species of animal through life. From a reasonable distance, intensely and thoroughly. Dropping the last of the whiskey on an dusty, iron table that was corroded by soot, slight Irish accent finally traveled through the layers of the evening.

" What is your relation to Clare, mate? As I said, didn't see ya' around yet. Not much slides under my radar, specially when it comes to her. " blended soap of curiosity and letting him know just how deep his claws are in this situation, Jace collectedly reached for the newly pack of butterscotch candy, hidden in his inner pocket. Rest of the two men momentarily gazed at Vince, but not a peep leaving their throat. Callused fingers popped one of the hard pieces of candy into the watering mouth, canines crushing the sweet as soon as the lips closed. Arm flexed, casually reaching for another pocket, intentionally lifting the hem of the worn out jacked up, exposing a gun hidden under it, just next to the chain that tasted more blood then the firearm. " Take the rest to the bar. " Tapping the crumpled box on the rough palm, Jace instructed the others to leave. Obediently but clearly unsatisfied with being left out from the most exciting part, Tig and Pyke grabbed each one barrel crowned with a wooden box of whiskey and went through the heavy metal door with the sign ' exit ' on them. Flames ate the shadows when Jace lit his cigarette, arms resting on the brawny chest. " See mate, I don't like surprises. Tonight's one was however different, but ain't putting my finger on the choice yet. So tell me, where do you know Clare from, and how did you end in her apartment? "

If this was a normal world with normal people, such question would be comical -- answer clear as day. But their world was nothing even slightly ordinary and Clare certainly didn't belong in the basked of ' standard eggs'. Broad silhouette moved, heavy boots eating some distance, while all friendly spirit in Jace evaporated, vanished into the thin air. Merciless tormenter remained, one with a leash of thin patience and self control. " I am not one of those guys that will make angry calls if you break her heart, search a couple of bars I know you hang out at and if lucky land a punch or two in your face. " Muscles turned to stone, tension filling the chest and eyes turning nearly demonic. " I am the one who will hunt you down like an animal, break every bone twice until you don't scream every prayer known to man, drag you to the street, chain you to the back of my motorcycle and drive off with pulling you along while every piece of skin and meat does not paint the street. But I'll be mindful of your survival just so I can throw you in an unmarked grave, and bury you alive. " Raising his chin up, the man held the eye contact, allowing this terrors to skin in. " I ain't planning to sniff around no one sheets, I am more than confident Clare can handle her stuff alone, however, betray her, there is where I step in. Are we clear on that? "

* * * *

Little bear. Breath hitched while limbs went numb for a split second, then the feeling of warmth creeping like spiders spread across her back, aiming for the stomach where some sort of fluttering was going on, defying the permanent denial. Staring at the angelic face for a few moments too long, bubbling comebacks left forgotten with the echo of the nickname still ringing around the eardrums. Even when the male jumped out of the metal beast, mellowed expresson remained. . . until the chickens decided to gawk at the wrong rooster. Possessiveness spread its arms like a giant jellyfish, sending out electric shocks of contempt, territoriality and jealousy. The loud thump of the door closing drew the attention of two of the unsightly girls, but when the roar of her voice traveled between them, muttering was reduced to apprehension, a confused stare like a hyena's when a lioness appears. " Nice sight, isn't it? " unreadable undertone laced the voice, as the redhead tilted her head towards Vince for whom she was certain can't hear her. " Eyes almost fall out the sockets. . . " a blanket of blackness was drawn over the green eyes like dark clouds before a storm. " Or someone claws them out. Hope you can run fast in that cheap heels. . .wouldn't want no accidents. " Passing through their now petrified group, Clare gave each and every single one of them a personal taste of the growing wrath residing in her glare. They hung their heads almost humbly, looking away but certainly not in the direction which may just cost them their eyesight.

The stale air full of sharp smells like beer, cigarette smoke, strong perfumes and sweat bit her nostrils. She deftly made her way through the throngs of people at the entrance, raising her guitar above her head as she ducked and avoided glasses filled with colorful drinks. Clare blinked cheerfully towards the back of the bar, where a skeleton named Gunpowder above the stage proudly rode a polished Old timer BMW R51 with a trailer. Nodding at the inanimate object as a personal tradition every time she was about to perform, a piercing voice roared through the packed space, overpowering even the music from the speakers. " Over here, young'un. " A large man with a thick gray beard, wearing a lumberjack's shirt and a belt with a small iron hoof on it, waved a dirty rag from the bar, waving his hand to the redhead to come over.

" How's it going Barney? " giving a subtle nod and a polite smile, Clare placed down the guitar bag next to the wooden stairs of the stage. With sausage like fingers Barney curled the tip of his mustache. " God darn it Clareese, I nearly though you ain't comin'. Was worried something happened to you. " Ignoring the fact the man keeps calling her by the wrong name, not because is was ignorant but from fondness, Clare removed a couple of scarlet strands from the forehead as she started unpacking the instrument. You have no idea what a eventful night I had. . . Woman though to herself, fingers curling around the polished guitar's neck. " Nothing happened, just got a bit held up. Don't worry about it. " Eyes bounced across the room. No Vince. No Jace. . . however she spotted Pyke and Tig, carrying the alcohol behind the bar. " Clareese, Clareese! Damn it young blood, what is up with you? Where are you? " snapping back from her thoughts, Clare shook her head, returning the attention to the old man. " Placing the bull tonight, though you will be happy. " Plump lips spared no joy, corners curling automatically. Seeing the traces of true cheerfulness on the beautiful face, Barney returned a wide, toothy smile. " Now that is more like it. Gonna be the first one to ride it, I promise. " crossing his heart and raising his hand, the male pointed at the stage. " Do as many as you like, no rush, as always. However, I do want one thing in return for the bull. " Puzzled expression washed over her face. " And that is. . .? "

" Sing that one you hummed the other day. I like that. Bear trap. "

Oh no. . .

Pale as the river's pearls, eyes widen in utter shock. " No, no. . . um. . any other maybe? I can do the old ones, you know, ones that bring you back to your youthful days. "

Desperately trying to change his mind and not do 'the song' Clare felt sweat big as pees accumulating on the forehead. Shaking the head in refusal, man was persistent. " No, that one. It didn't leave my head for days, reminds me of my first love. That one. " Not adding nothing more or wanting to discuss this further, Barney turned, yelling at the bikers that nearly pushed half of the bottles on the bar to the floor. Trapped, cornered . . . screwed -- that is how Clare felt. Knowing negotiation time was over, sand of excuses left the hourglass, she rushed to the stage, plugging the guitar into the speakers. A few heads turned, and she quickly examined the room one last time. Ruby haired woman was not religious, but in this very moment a silent prayer left the privacy of her thoughts. Lord, just let me finish it before he walks in. For god sake. . . cursing the song before she even sang it, fingers delicately started caressing the guitar. Tender melody caught most of the attention, but all eyes were upon her when she released the nightingale's voice.

" It was a sudden light, like a fireflies in the night

Moon shining like the sun, and it was over and done, before I got the chance to run

Waves of his power crashed on my shore, barefoot I ran to meet it once more

You got me in a bear trap

Chains on my wrists of something I was not meant to miss, lost in the heavily mist

Warrior spirit spilling the blood and fear, yet I want to be near

And I don't need no seer, to tell me the future, that admiration became the heart's butcher

You got me in a bear trap

Pretty boy covered with honey,

got even closer when fangs and claws screamed ' Shun me!', but instead clouds shaped his face above me

Like little bears drawn to berries, lips sweet as cherries, but a dark threat it carries

Because I know, that bear trap will only break the bone,

leaving the foolish soul addicted and alone, curse of the solitude set in stone , but still the war drum of the heart leaps on his tone

The air felt thick with tension while standing there, not expecting the two other men who made their presence known out of the shadows, waiting for their next move. Expression appearing detached as if they didn't bother him, when in all actuality he was fearful for his life. Honestly, he surprised himself that he even came to assist as well, but at the same time felt it’d been mandatory. Like he didn't have a choice. Realizing he wasn’t being brought here to be beaten to a bloody pulp and left for the coyotes to pick on, relief washed over him in waves, yet he still kept a watchful eye just in case. Not that he stood a chance since there were three against one, but he for sure wouldn’t back down. The Irish accent ceased his thoughts, along with the gruff words of the other man who was referred to as 'Tig', and when the truck door opened, side glances were sent towards him in hopes of a negative reaction. Gawking at every ounce of product in awe, they certainly rounded up the good stuff, and a lot of it. Revealing this as stolen goods didn’t surprise him since he had a gut feeling that Jace wasn't a saint by any means, making sure to collect and keep every puzzle piece given so he could put it all together. If Vince wasn’t mixed in with what he'd been in now, a different reaction would’ve been given. One of shock. Fear. And most of all, resentment. Being one of those people to use the police as a threat. Instead, he didn’t give the reaction all of them pined for, much to the disappointment of the crew.

When Pyke acknowledged him without malice, respect was given towards the crew member for acting as if his presence wasn't bothersome, even if the male held a sense of resentment on the inside. "Right. On it." A grin following at Pyke smacking the mechanical animal, grabbing a barrel alongside him and carrying it inside, placing it in its correct spot. When he went back to retrieve the whiskey boxes, the gruff voice of the older man could be heard again. Biting down on his tongue to hold back any remark, he picked up the pace with no hesitation as commanded by Tig, scooping up the box of alcohol and bringing it inside, setting it down on one of the empty tables. Having found some humor in his words. The guy appeared to be cautious around newcomers, so it wasn’t something Vince took to heart. Paul was the exact same way, minus the snarky jokes, having witnessed it firsthand when he brought in new recruits.

When he walked out, prepared to grab another box, he halted at the change in atmosphere. Turning his head slightly, peripheral view caught the piercing gaze of Jace, sending some form of shiver down his spine. Blood running cold. Catching sight of the firearm that hung alongside his hip, nervousness gnawing away like a parasite while he pretended not to see it, feeling as if he were placed under a spotlight when Jace began to question why and how he managed to dodge the claws of Clare. It caught him off guard, he should've expected it to happen, it would've been foolish to think he'd be able to waltz in like some carefree simpleton without some form of confrontation. As mentioned, Clare wasn't one to just let anyone in or allow them to pass inspection for that matter. Muscles tensed and guard rising when the two crew members were ordered to go inside, leaving both him and Jace alone. The silence had been deafening, minus the chatter from the group of people standing far away that echoed through the air, and the occasional owl making its presence known. The man’s behavior was entirely different compared to how it was back at the apartment. No playfulness. No smile. Only a look a lion would give towards its meek prey.

“We aren’t dating if that’s what you’re insinuating. Purely platonic.” Vince tutted with the shake of his head followed by a feigned smirk, playing it off as if his feathers weren't ruffled. It pained him to even say that, but it was the truth, aside from the last part. He wasn’t going to break his promise on revealing the night they spent together or even her involvement with Paulie for that matter, especially knowing this guy meant serious business, the truth would have to be beaten out of him. Once he makes a promise to someone he cares enough about, he doesn't break it. “I know her because she attends fights, which I’m sure you’re aware of. It’s what I do. And I’m good at what I do. I don't do hospitals unless I'm about to die, and she picked up on that. Helped tend to my wounds, it's just a mutual thing we clicked on.” He gestured with the wave of his hand as if it were no big deal. Having picked up on the obvious codes behind their words, there was no sense in hiding his true nature. Plus, he wanted to make a point that he wasn’t some average man, but one who could and would fight until the death if need be. “You know what? I think she’d rather speak for me anyway, so if you wanna know any vivid details about how we know one another then ask her for yourself.” It wasn’t meant to be sarcastic, but it happened to come out that way, what’d been said was mainly to save face. There was no other excuse he could possibly conjure up that would be convincing to the biker, who threw invisible daggers and munched loudly on candy to prevent from breaking bones.

When Jace stepped forward he stepped back instinctively, observing his surroundings in all directions in case his men tried to pull a fast one like a pack of wolves. The side he didn’t want to reveal came out, just a little, loathing the feeling of being backed into a corner like some caged animal. The laid-back side having been replaced with a defensive stance. Jaw taut and teeth practically baring. Hardened stare with a newfound intensity, pupils dilating so quickly nearly his entire iris disappeared like a shark detecting the smell of blood. As if he were prepared to strike, which he wouldn't unless if someone else were to first or if provoked enough, he’d be singled out with the chance of being silenced with a weapon, on top of that losing any chance with Clare in the process. But something that didn’t set right with him were three things: being talked down to, threats against him, and threats against his life. It reminded him of his father, who used acts of humiliation and partook in such behavior. An unintentional trigger given from the sharp tongue and actions of Jace. Unaware of the true occupation of the leather clad man before him, he didn’t think Jace held the same power as Paul. Paul had put him in his place once, and he never felt more inferior, more shameful than he did in that moment. Powerless. He wasn’t going to let it slide, no, not this time. In all fairness, he tried to understand that this man has familial ties with Clare, he was just watching her back as most figures do. Hell, his friend Julian was the same way, having to convince that this was just for Clare's wellbeing. Eyelids closed for a split second, taking a much-needed breath, he calmed himself and responded with a serious tone, boring into the dark depths of the other, accent slipping by accident out of frustration. “We’re clear. I’m a man of my word.” Did he open a can of worms? Likely. But did he regret it? Absolutely not.

She hadn't even had time to collect herself, sort her thoughts, and dig up a solution to this madness that seemed to reach to the very core of the earth, elusive and beyond her capabilities, when the source of her anxiety jumped merrily onto the well-maintained, dark leather seats of the car. The cramped space trapped the scent of his body -- pleasant, enticing, causing the redhead to feel like a snake that a flute's ' magical ' melody beckons outside a basket, drawn to it, calmed by it. Wrinkling the nose in an irritated grimace as the dark brows furrowed, Clare watched the victorious grin that was plastered on Vince's face, a face shaped by her dreams like a possessed sculptor -- every night, forever present, provoking the very last patience. To her surprise, from the well-known lips came no further prodding, but a calm compliment about the car. Ruby haired woman shook her head, trying like hell to push away the nervousness that rose from her heels, over her inked legs, to the spine.

The engine of her beloved metal pet gently purred under her guidance, as the tires squealed fiercely on the burning concrete, infusing the adrenaline that fed her, boosting the cracked confidence. Tender palms were clutching the soft skin of the steering wheel when his voice rang out again. She couldn't wrap her head around the curiosity he presented. What did he want to achieve? Why a personal question? She had come to terms with the fact that their ' relationship ' had come to an end when they fiercely, passionately crumpled the sheets in that hotel room after the afterparty and celebration of his big final victory she witnessed . The longing should have been fueled by those raw passions, it always was -- without exception. Oil and gasoline on the wild fire that further devoured the loneliness of her heart, was an unexpected turn from the usual, what she knew and felt 'comfortable' at that bottom of solitude.

Then the silver tongue clicked again, sharing a piece of information that was not on the surface of the closet but gifting the forbidden curiosity a sneak peek of what is hidden inside. The history, the personal river of his life where strangers can't travel with their boats of wondering. Cracking the window open, allowing the refreshing night summer breeze to fill the space, pine-green eyes found him, spying from the corner under the cover of long, coal-black eyelashes. The sunglasses. A fashion accessory for those who are blind to the true reality, what they serve the most, they cover, hide, silence the truth that language falsely represents, subject to self-control. She didn't have to dive into the sea of ​​blue shades of his irises to know, to hear the unsaid, to solve the riddle of the last sentence -- something heavy and torturous was hiding under this confession in the veil of small talk.

" No cello in that bag, so not classical music for sure. " controlled tone began. Nearly cracking a smile realizing refined types of melodies also seduce the ear drums on occasion. " Something rebellious, almost cyclonic, personifying. . . but also fulfilling, carrying raw truth without, liberating. Things only rock and roll can give birth to. " She didn't care for the poetic way of describing, she always liked to play with words. Love for literature would be evident in her sentences on topics that she understood as valuable and deep. A couple of furious curses accompanied them as she turned sharply into an alley on the left, nearly running over a couple of local drunks who were staggering along the sidewalk. Her foot caressed the gas pedal, kept the driving pace and encouraged her soul to continue in the same way.

" Can't say it does not make sense. Your strikes exude talent. . . be on someone's skull or batter head of the drum. " Honesty escaped the throat, and strangely regret didn't instantly take a bite at it. After all, acting as if it was not obvious how admiration seeps through every pore on her being when she observes him in action would be absurd. It was of one those sparse moments where no mask was worn to disguise the ' unmilled ' truth. " Didn't know you had a brother. . . " Of coarse she didn't, where would she obtain such infromation, considering she didn't pry in the first place -- mostly to save herself from forming a full picture of him, a picture that even the pieces enchanted her like a totem made by crafty witches. But the curiousness grew, along with the unexplainable need, necessity , to cure whatever soreness the revelation caused and he was hiding. " Did he teach you how to fight as well? If so, how come he isn't on the events? Bet he would be proud. " What the hell?! Second compliment in a row ?! Spoon of saliva shoved down the throat, as the redhead swallowed thickly. God damn you Jace, god damn you to the ninth circle of Dante's inferno.

Something snapped inside the brain, reminding her of some important details she had to voice before they reach their destination, which was two green lights away, and a small turn to the right under what seemed as an centuries old bridge. " Jace can't know about the Castello's events, the part where I, well, work for him. " No concern of what he might do, adding that if she was only watching the fights would not be much of a shocker for the grey eyed man with a patch of his back presenting a devil strangling an angel to death. A ' logo ' of their motor club, a message . . . deadly warning. Although, the direct involvement would make him talk her ear off with his ' concerns ', and Clare allowed no one to dictate what she should or should not do. " I have zero tolerance for his bitching about the background of such people, the horror stories what connections with them can do. . . " Hypocritical in one way, considering he was the king of his own motor mafia. . . but Clare was not feeling the pressure of a threat under the man's thumb, she was blessed with something no one had -- no potential collapse of their relationship that would result in her having her life stolen by his bullet in order to protect his secrets. Not because she would willingly meet the gallows before ratting on him, but because what he said was true -- they were family, only one they knew.

Fingers tapped rhythmically on the doorpanel to a mental tune, feeling the light blow of the cool breeze, eyelids shutting for just a moment to relish in the air that brought him a sense of comfort. To ease his nerves just a little before they shot out completely. Expecting some blunt reply back, he focused on her as she spoke, noticing the flicker of light in her emerald irises when talking about her love for music, her kind of music, tone holding a sense of passion behind it. No hesitation behind the smile that formed at the honest answer given in return. Mirroring her sense of happiness, bringing him the similar amount from receiving a small sample of her opening up. He’d take what he could get. He then could've sworn he almost felt his eyes bulge out of their sockets as his smile was replaced with a look of disbelief. Was that a compliment? He didn't think she'd disclose such thoughts aloud, let alone have them for that matter. His heart skipped a beat, sensing she was truly interested in what he had to say. "I-uh, thanks. Appreciate it." He tried to play it smooth, as if he didn't just stumble over his words. You fool. True expressions and emotions were unable to be contained, wanting to burst open like a dam. The intoxicated couple almost being struck like deer had been a voluntary distraction, causing him to laugh out loud. "They’re worth five points you know."

And he could've swore he’d gone into cardiac arrest at the second compliment, fingers ceased the consistent movements, hand retracting from the doorframe to lie onto his thigh. "Yep, sure do." The mentioning of his brother brought a pang to the receptors of his heart, seeping into his chest cavity, he knew she meant no harm by her words. Not knowing much about him. Adams apple bobbed as he forcefully swallowed the feeling down and replied calmly without a wavering tone. "Nah, not to brag but I'd been self-taught for the most part. He lives in Berlin, my hometown. His name is Edward, but my mom and I always called him Eddie." There were times he regretted leaving the only bit of family he had left behind, but something within him had sought something new. New experiences, places, sights, a whole fresh environment all around. A country at that. The 'American dream'. Although Eddie has tried to reassure it was okay, there was still a sense of guilt that ate at him within. They would keep contact by either phone or mail, but visits were rare. The last time he visited was over a few months ago since it'd been two years on the dot, and the goodbye was hard, but Vince knew what he really wanted out of life. Not wanting to be that guy who was in a hurry to get old, settle, and stay in the hometown till death. The fact he even mentioned the sibling was a sign of trust.

Gaze remained averted as he stared out the window, eyes flickering where his vision caught the view straight ahead of him. Listening to every word, he gave a firm nod in understanding, not necessarily catching on to the fact that Jace could likely know about Castello, but the simple fact that what both of them did wasn't supposed to be discussed openly, mainly aimed at Vince. And because Paul would sic his men on him like a group of ravenous dogs out for blood, if disclosed to the wrong person that is. Chances were low, but never zero. Even the fastest racehorse could be discarded and replaced with another if it happened to slip. He also related to the resistance of familial lectures, not pleased to be caught up in such either. “Wasn’t gonna say nothin’ to begin with. Don’t sweat it.” Though a small voice in the back of his mind was telling him there was something more to that, yet it was shoved aside like most.

Head turning slightly when she fumbled over her words, at first causing a confused furrow of both brows, until noting the blush of embarrassment forming on pale cheekbones. And before he could even respond with jesting words, his skeleton about jumped out of his skin when she pulled into the parking spot with a screech. Both hands gripping the sides of the seats, nails sinking into the leather like a frightened feline. "Jesus, Clare. Alright, you've made your point." He took a deep breath, eventually calming down. Is this what others felt when he had control of the wheel? Removing his sunglasses, he stuffed them into his jacket pocket before locking eyes with her. "I can assure that you have my word, my lips are sealed." Pinching his thumb and forefinger, he moved them across his lips as if he zipped them. "Gotta help Jace. I'll see you inside, little bear." Before she could respond to the last bit, he quickly got out of the car, not before sending a quick wink her way, and shut the door behind him. Completely ignoring the straying eyes that belonged to a couple of women in different age brackets, the same ones who screeched like a group of banshees when Clare pulled in, trying their darndest to catch a good glimpse of him in the dim lighting the outside bulbs provided, unsure whether it was because he was an unfamiliar face or not.

Tingles whipped the senses, the heart leapt and played a war drum that thunderously deafened the ears as the redhead witnessed the embodiment of domination. Quick and ready like the index finger on the trigger of a revolver, like those old cowboys whose hand twitch no one sees until it's too late, and the crimson color blooms between the loser's eyes, betraying the bullet that pierced the skull and stole a life.

Rarely anyone or anything could boast the description 'I fascinated her' when it came to the temperamental woman. Her interest was wide-ranging, versatility crowned the head like a tiara full of jewels that have been preserved for generations, but she had neither the privilege nor the good fortune to be swept off her feet, to watch without the ability to breathe or move for a full minute and drown in the nectar of feelings that she did not know that chemical processes in the body can cause.

Clare was a assertive person, demanding the respect and submissiveness of her surroundings with only her aura. A menacing vibe followed her like a shadow, even when she didn't say a word, her energy field consumed others. . . that's why when she hit the cold wall of the obstacle, felt the axes of resistance sharper than her own, energy full of strength, power, ability and fortitude, she was inexorably drawn to that inexhaustible source of wonders like magnetic fields. If she could put it simply, she always knew that she needed someone stronger than her, regardless of whether she would ever admit that strength. Not something as simply as physical ability, but someone who will be able to embrace the thorns of her behavior and not avoid it, who does not dread the dead or the living, and even when he is met suddenly with danger and the prospects are not satisfactory, he stands his ground. Shock of Jace's appearance had little to do with the inability to produce a sound that was silently demanded by the man with the expression as a bull would have after seeing red, it had all to do with just that -- being completely smitten by who Vince was.

There was no replacing the original. God knows she tried, desperation to cure herself from the poison of longing for his presence demanding a ' suitable substitute '. Which didn't exist -- messy blond hair on top of a chiseled body granted her no serenity, only deepened the hole of anguish when she realized that tinder date was a cry for a cheap knock off to fill more than it ever could. This in front of her, the spirit of a warrior whose flames rage with no retreat.

It was impossible to get out of the clutches of the realizations and scenes that were reminiscent of sitcoms. Seconds grew into minutes, and Clare was lost in the choirs of voices not belonging to her, but the ' newcomer ' didn't share such state of coma.

Jace Catto was not a gullible or naive man. There was a good reason why members of his motorcycling family used to jokingly call him the ' lie detector '. The man with golden strands and unreadable facial expressions was blessed with the gift of extremely accurate reading of a person. Every corner full of secrets, skeletons in closets, they were forced to come under the torch and into the light of his inspection. The perception ranged from body movements, speech, reactions, choice of words -- everything was carefully and meticulously dissected on the table of his mind.

Even though he didn't react to a single indication of potential rivalry and alpha attitude that couldn't be washed off the now relaxed man like a stain of red wine, it didn't mean that he didn't notice it. ' Tail tucking between the legs' was something Jace taught those who needed it, but the man in front of him couldn't even imagine how lucky he was. Lack of responses to the intense behavior could only be attributed to the uniqueness of this situation. President of Devil's stranglers had no intention of shoving his nose in Clare's love affairs, if one could call it that, but in secret he hoped one day she will give actual love a try. . . resulting in such change in his usual behavior.

Simple nod from the stranger on Jace's apology for the intrusion indicated thin nerves being mended back to health with a moment of silence, reaching for the sweet poison he himself considered medicine for stress. The scattered first aid kits on the table, the old, stained bandages by the guitar and the clean gauze deftly wrapped around Vince's wrists sang like a muse to Homer about the ' dark' side of the man that introduced himself as Vincent Kraus. But then again, patience was the suit Jace chose to wear, for one purpose only -- for Clare's potential interest in which he will not interfere. . . yet.

Puckish grin instantly rose under neatly trimmed mustache on Vince's question. There we are. Jealousy poured through the pores of restraint, Jace could see it on Vince clear as day. Not that he had the right to say anything, possessiveness one of his biggest flaws.

" Family, so to say. "

Too quick, too bold, too honest. . . choice of words given a harsh dose of reality.

" Very rich. "

It fell from the plump charry colored lips, cutting the heart of the hardened man. Ashy blond eyebrows furrowed, facial expression crafting a mask of seriousness, hiding the guilt reborn from her words. Clare forgave Jace for leaving, but there were limits to the ' openness ' she allowed for him to describe how close they are. Family? Family sticks together, and his choices were the opposite. Allowing this to linger in the air between them, Jace fished the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, getting ready to produce an answer, but instead, was met with a dash of fresh air. Spitting out the laughter, having no control over the honest way it escaped the throat when Vince sank the teeth of innocent provocation into Clare. This lad had balls. Big ones.

Steam was coming out of her ears, her eyes narrowed into small lines as she crossed her arms in repulsion over the ample chest. " Never told you you can come either. " Clare snapped, trying to regain rains control of a situation that had long since slipped away from her fingers. Admonishing glare fell on cracking Jace, but had no impact as usual.

" Joe did ask for a couple of hands to unload the mechanic bull and the rest, would be a shame to miss the opportunity to recruit a pair of capable one. " Head nodding towards the busted knuckles of the man. " See you don't mind getting your hands dirty, not a stranger to hard work. Hundred bucks and a free beer for carrying a few things into the bar sounds fair to you, mate? " Finding someone to unload a truck in five minutes for a dollar bill with two zeros seamed as an easy task -- but you could never be too careful who you allow to witness a turnk filled with stolen goods. A test, first one, given by Jace.

" C'mn Clare, you were waiting for that damn bull for weeks. You gonna give it away that easily? " Engraved zippo found itself in the rough hands of the MC president, lighting the sweetness of tobacco.

Sharpened nails sinking in her elbows. She was done with this, there was no use, and standing there feeling powerless was no longer an option. Curved silhouette moved swiftly, passing next to Vince, hitting his shoulder with hers without a care before grabbing her guitar and stepping toward the hallway.

" Have a ride mate or you going with her ? "

Burning holes in Jace's skull with the emerald greens followed.

" You have a lot of space behind you, Jace. Saw you driving asses much larger than his on your precious Harley. "

" Yeah but I doubt he has a pair of thongs on him. Can't say he is my type. " Jace smirked in a playful manner, determined to get the man a ride in Clare's beloved American muscle. Exhaling the last of her nerves, quick steps delivered her to the joking man, palm slamming on brawny chest as a rattle of keys was heard.

" You take him then, ' mate '. Here's the car. " Hand released the car keys and the man caught them in the last moment before they hit the floor.

" Can't do that, gotta see Pyke first. . . that thing with the construction firm got a bit off track. It's my first stop before Maddox. " Honest contradiction. Not even Clare stood in the way of his shady business. There were limits even to that, and putting Jace in danger of a life-sentence because she wanted to save herself from further embarrassment didn't prevail in the election. Frustration consumed her when she grab back the keys, passing him by and heading for the door.

" I won't wait for you, so you better hurry. "

Hourglass shape disappeared in the shadows, leaving the door open. Tilting his head towards Vince, Jace still had a slight smug grin on the dry lips sucking on the cigarette.

Family. A sense of relief washed over him both mentally and physically, nerves held no more tension; it were something he wouldn’t have been able to hide, even if he wanted to. Knowing his jealousy was picked up on from the other male made him want to internally kick himself, was it really that obvious? The smirk just screamed ‘gotcha’. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, absentmindedly biting down on the inside of his cheek while muttering. “I see.” His eyes averted elsewhere til they landed on some form of art on the wall, no longer wanting to be read like an open book; they then darted from her to Jace, taking note of the unresolved tension between them after revealing the relation of the two, yet decided to not acknowledge it. For the best.

An ice breaker was definitely needed for the men, and it’d been timed just right. Vince couldn’t resist laughing along with, the cigarette nearly falling from his lips as he did so. At least they held one similarity, aside from a nicotine addiction. The ability to be unfazed, for the most part, by the woman staring daggers before them. Perhaps he held a bit more judgment than intended, this guy didn’t seem half bad. That he knew of.

“You never denied it.” He further teased in a sing-song tone, though his attention was brought to Jace. Oh, for certain, he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. If only he really knew. Plus, it’d been an opportunity for him to weasel his way in without Clare denying him entry. “Sounds like a plan.” Only a fool would turn down a ben franklin and a free round of booze. His irises widened at the sudden sharp nudge of his shoulder, causing him to nearly stumble at the impact, lips fighting the urge to curl into a snarl, but they only twitched slightly. Expression remaining stoic. That was one form of payback to get under his skin. Yet, at the mention of Jace insisting he ride along with Clare, he nearly perked up like a dog ready to go for a joyride. Forgetting that even occurred. And once again, Vince let out a laugh at Jace’s response to her reluctance and his playful nature, eventually it faltered as the keys were thrown to Jace, disappointment evident on his features and deep down, fear. Not wanting to be alone just yet with the other man, the jesting he’d witnessed could’ve just been an act, and with how Vince is usually on high alert, for a reason, it just further fueled his anxiousness.

Mind turning with all forms of thoughts, something caught his attention in an instant. Jace’s mention of having to do something prior to his arrival at the bar. Even though he wasn’t necessarily affiliated with the depths of the criminal underworld, he’d been around enough said individuals to pick up on the undertones within their words and mannerisms. Another quirk that’d been on the list, mainly from spending his time around Julian when the chance was given, since Paul was more guarded about who tuned in to his business or even permitted to be in the same building. Good. At least he didn't have to fret any longer, and he had a chance to be alone with Clare again, even if it were a short moment. Once the conversation reached an end, he went to retrieve his jacket that draped from the arm of the couch and put it on, giving Jace a two fingered salute before swiftly exiting the apartment. “See ya’ there.”

Practically running down the hall and down the stairs, he almost bumped into an older man who gave him the dirtiest look one could imagine, followed by a grumbled ‘kids these days’. He tossed his cigarette aside, snuffing it out in the process on the tiled floor, rushing out towards the entrance of the building. Scanning the lot until he found her, it didn’t take long since the vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb. Not only was he going to ride with the woman he was fond of, but a nice-looking ride on top of that. Mentally thanking whatever was out there in the universe for having some form of luck be on his side, since often times it seemed like the opposite.

Once he got in and closed the door, hues scanned the side of her face while a light smile crept across his lips. Almost wanting to pester her once again, just to boast that he'd won, instead deciding to behave. For now. "Nice ride." He then nestled into the seat, propping an arm on the doorframe while reaching into his coat pocket to grab hold of his sunglasses and put them on. Not giving damn that it had reached the point where he no longer needed them. It was almost his signature, but at the same time he didn't want his emotions to be read during the ride there. Unfortunately, the eyes hold a strong signal of emotional state, and as the saying goes: a gateway to the soul. Indecisive on whether or not he should make small talk, he insisted on doing so anyway.

Rosalind watches him with a fond smile, and there's no hesitation in her answer. "I'd love to. And a walk sounds perfect, actually." The cool air should be sobering, and it's only now dawning on her how hungry she is. "I'm ready whenever you are." With the last of her drink finished, Rose adjusts the strap of her bag over her shoulder and grabs her jacket from the empty stool beside her. As she waits for him to finish up for the night, she pulls her coat over her shoulders.

Vince led the two outside without a look back over his shoulder, leaving tonight's events behind him, the cool night air bringing a sense of relief. Teeth biting down on his lower lip in order to prevent a grin at her offer. "Alright, alright. I'll let you this time." Hues taking subtle glances down at her as they walked, attention mainly focused on what was in front of him. "Can't recall the last time we got to hang out." Tone sounded almost disappointed. Either one was busy with something as of late, the opportunity to spend time together had decreased more as time progressed. Sure, they saw each other at the bar and chatted, but to go out and actually do something was a different story.

The trained mask of indifference she had perfected for years cracked like fragile porcelain, exposing a reaction angry and envious, irritated and frustrated, for just a second. . . but according to her rules, a second too long.The very idea that has now blossomed into a shattering scene, colorful sickening picture of female bodies happily grinning around Vince while their fake nails scratched the broad shoulders, brought a rush of disgust from the stomach all the way to the mouth, the heartburn of anger and jealousy devoured the soft walls of the throat like acid. She had never experienced this sensation before, a strong emotion that bordered on hatred but had sharper daggers, aimed more at the heart and less at the stomach, centered somewhere in the middle of the chest, where they say is the center of the soul and the node of the emotional network.

Woman with crimson locks wanted to scoff at his question, to laugh, to eat him alive with an answer full of indifference, but not a sound left her otherwise hasty tongue. The only thing she could imagine were scenes of breaking bones, when this time she was the star of the fight where every female who dared even to blink with their plastic eyelashes at him ended up limping away. " Does it bother you that I don't? " Forcing it out, storm over the green fields of her irises raged further. " Not used to being the one left in the room without even a 'bye, thanks for the quickie ' ? Must have been quite a shock not having your phone filled with missed calls the morning after. Did that ego of yours finally take a hit that knocked it out? " Every single word a filthy lie to secure the survival of the most important thing she nurtured -- the fatal pride.

Being the last one standing had a very different meaning when it came to Clare, it was literal, crucial -- something as holy to her as ten commandments were to believers. However, the bits and pieces of hope in her tried to sing to the common sense, scanning the tone and words of the man along with the direct look of his cornflower irises. They didn't seem dishonest, corrupted by the same pride, fraudulent . . . Clare felt the sting of regret for the hostile behavior, that made the confusion rise like a tide. This was a game where the rules were unknown to her, every move seemed to be as wrong as she believed it was right, and silent whispers about following sorrow and loneliness raised the hairs on her neck. And above all . . . bite of his ego was not flavoursome, it was sour, dry, like ash that stuck to the razor sharp teeth. There was no joy in hurting him. Not even a crumb of it.

Wrinkled circles around the small button nose on his second try to vindicate himself from blame, one she believed even less. There was no secret in the fact Castello favored the ashy blond male, Vince was the golden goose, the seemingly indestructible soldier, the money making machine that was brilliant in what he did, and loved it openly, however, Clare was certain the older male would never turn him into a boy scout, delivering ' cookies of concern 'to her doorstep. If Castello wanted Vince somewhere, it was in the makeshift ring, breaking jaws and causing severe concussions. And if he wanted to know where she is, well, a call as usual would be enough. Avoiding to reveal the true agenda drove the ruby haired woman close to the edge of the abyss of madness. Patience never her strong trait.

Just when she was about to strike again, the male moved, and with it, caused the muscles in the hourglass shape to turn to stone. Oxygen escaped the lungs that didn't draw another portion of that life-important chemical element. Jade green orbs fell to the lips that were the key of her prison for past few weeks. Not even being aware that the show white teeth captured the lower lip and abused it nervously, Clare recalled every dream that covered her mind like a veil of necessity in the last twenty one days from the day she tasted his kisses. The dreams were progressing with each night, adding more nectar of seduction. It was not solely his body that she craved, it was his soul and mind. Imagination forging scenarios to answer her deepest, hidden interest. So many questions she had for him, so much of what she was dying to know, and yet interdicted herself the privilege to ask. Expanding the canvas and paint of knowledge about him only would result in more unjustified longing. . . or so she believed it was, baseless.

" I think th -- "

Thump, thump, thump. . .

Sharp knock echoed through the dimly lit hallway and ate the woman's words away. Swiftly turning the head, Clare glared at the shadows from where the sound came. Rarely she had visitors, never actually, so two in one night was not likely. There was only one logical explanation.

" Another note Susan? I told you where it will end if I find it on my door again. Right where the sun does not shine!"

Susan Lee, middle aged Asian woman with thin nerves and overwhelming hatred for anything that produces sound. The war started when Clare moved in, and naturally, the electric guitar released its thunderous sound penetrating the thick concrete walls -- instantly making Susan's blood to boil. Ironically, for such a noise-despiser, Susan owned three Siamese cats that meowed non-stop, sound also hearable to the neighbors, but of course, that could not possible be an issue. However, like any hypocrite, Susan demanded peace and quiet from everyone else, leading her to Clare's door one night . . . at that was a big mistake. Susan never ran so fast in her life like she did that night, learning the fiery redhead was far more disturbing than the notes she played on that electric instrument. So, Susan decided to staple a note to her door instead, knocking and running away -- like every other ' brave ' person would. Clare was ready to unleash her growing wrath when an unexpected answer came from the other side of the door -- husky voice that definitely didn't belong to the Asian woman.

" Would like to keep that virgin part of me intact, if ya' don't mind much. "

Pleasant, unique mix of Irish and Texan accent traveled to her ear canal.

Oh hell no . . . You must be shitting me. . .

Clare swallowed in utter disbelief while raising herself up. Jace?! From all the nights, all the damn days in the week, he chose tonight to do one of his ' worried visits '. No, she will not open the door. No way in hell.

Rattling of the keys followed.

" C'mn Clare, didn't have no candy today, just opened the door will, ya? I really don't want nothin' come flying in my head if I unlock them myself. "

Fantastic choice of words, just magnificent . . . So easily misinterpreted. . . when it's quite literal -- that man was addicted to butterscotch candy even more than his cancer sticks.

Clare wasn't even aware that she gazed back at Vince, almost as she was about to utter an explanation, reassuring him that it is not as it sounds like and who is Jace, just. . . the problem was. . . why did she had the need to do such a thing? If he didn't mean nothing to her as she was so desperately trying to prove just a moment ago? Liar liar, pants on fire. . .

Sound of the lock turning and a few heavy, careful footsteps followed.

" If another book comes flying towards my head, I swear to God. . . at least pick the one with soft covers. "

Before she could stop it, a tall man with worn-out leather jacket with a patch that said ' President ' on the left side of the chest, walked in with his hands protecting his head. Stopping dead in his tracks, the male's eyes widen, mouth slightly opened when the grey irises spotted another life form in the room. Sheer surprise, slight shock and a hefty dose of amusement evident on his facial expression. One blink, then another, almost as if he was trying to make sure this isn't some comical dream. Oh, but it was real, and as soon as Jace was certain of it, corner of the lips curled in a devilish grin while his eyes bounced from Clare to the unknown man.

" Well, you could have just called Clare, if you had company. "

Jace was fully aware of the way Clare led her life. The non-commitment, avoiding anything even similar to a relationship, quick one-night-stands. . . but he was also completely certain that her place was off limits to that kind of stuff. In fact, he would with no hesitation bet his candy, cigarettes and beloved Harley Davidson that only visitors were him and his crew, and even those tries often ended with doors remaining locked. Spare key he head was a though thing to obtain, but he managed, swore he would use it only in emergences -- which he thought it was, because Clare missing her gig in Mad dog Maddox was something that would only happen if her legs and arms were broken, and she was probably stabbed. . . or, in this highly unexpected case -- had a guy over.

" What are you doing here Jace? "

Clare had a feeling this question is endless tonight. Not sparing the ashy blond man the venom in the tone nor the murdering glare, she took a step forward, although, the man was totally unfazed, calm, not bothered at all by the approaching ' predator '.

" Hand over the key. Now. "

Opening her palm, Clare demanded the thing she didn't give willingly in the first place.

" Hay hay, we said emergencies, you not coming to Mad dog Maddox to play counts as one, I dare you to say otherwise. "

Raising the hand up to dodge hers, Jace explained.

" No, you said that, I said -- return my damn key ! "

Nearly she reached for the blasted iron thing hidden in Jace's balled fist, but decided against it. The scene was chaotic as it is, and for the first time in her life, she felt like she has absolutely no control.

" Hello there mate. "

Oh no. . .

" First time seeing you around. You play at the bar too? "

Knowing every face in that joint, mostly since he supplied them with cheap alcohol under the radar, Jace already knew the answer to the asked question. The man was no musician, but it entertained him greatly to poke at this given delight. For a moment, the president of Devil's stranglers tilted his head. ' Wait. . . is this the guy Clare tried to talk about? Hell. . . he actually survived three weeks after that conversation and is still in the game? This is a first. A damn first. ' Flash of absolutely enjoyed entertainment in his eyes. . . one that Clare didn't miss.

" No, he does not. He is. . . He. . "

She interrupted, head empty for decent explanations and thoughts like a hurricane.

" No? So I guess you are coming with to watch her play, ya? "

Jace took the opportunity he thought he would never witness in his lifetime - a speechless Clare.

" Name's Jace Catto, mate. Forgive the intrusion, but she don't miss her gigs. . . nor did I see a guy here yet either, except me and my crew.

Oh. She'd got him there, a mutual jab at the words he threw towards her. Something that was to be expected. It did bother him; his wall crumbling in that moment and causing his jaw to clench out of irritation, being the first to convey some truth behind his feelings. It didn't matter which woman he took along with him; they didn't compare. He would hardly even acknowledge them, but lately he hadn't been passed around much, if at all, because it didn't fill the void as it once did. It almost became repetitive. A bore. He could sense himself changing, and it was terrifying, sucking him dry like some parasitical vampire, wondering if it were for the better or for the worst.

Knowing he'd dug himself into an even deeper hole than the beginning yet continued to remain unfazed. Prepared for the storm that was coming since the lie he'd quipped up backfired worse than the one he went with the first time. When he'd retrieved his cigarettes as planned, he received the reaction he'd wanted this entire time. The way her breath hitched in her throat, eyes darting down to his lips, followed by the hint of regret, almost apologetic for her behavior, gave him a form of satisfaction. It was the initial part of his plan and a job well done.

Before having the chance to pull out a lighter, the sound of a knock caught his attention. Causing his head to turn swiftly towards the door, eyes narrowing at the interruption, ears perking at the sound of a masculine voice that held a concocted accent, and he practically jumped up off the sofa like a guard dog on high alert, dropping the pack of smokes in the process and shrugging off his leather coat while tossing it aside carelessly, landing on the side of the couch. "Hurensohn." Son of a bitch, muttered quietly under his breath with clear distaste while teeth clamped down on the cigarette. Who the hell could that possibly be, did she happen to have a significant other? The mysterious voice too collected for it to be another quick lay. Eyebrows knitting together with confusion. When she turned to look back at him, he shot her a look in hopes to receive some form of answer, patience wearing thin the longer he waited, expression darkening when she didn't speak.

As the two bantered back and forth behind the closed door, he happened to unintentionally zone out the words said between them. They were muffled, background noise; like static on a television. Trying to maintain his composure even though it felt as if there were lava flowing through his veins, lips set in a hard line while irises nearly burned holes through the wood with anticipation, fingers twitching, heartrate increasing as he prepared for the inevitable. The feeling of jealousy bubbling along with the acids in the pit of his stomach. The sound of the lock turning was all that'd been heard. But that opportunity to strike never came.

When the man walked in, he didn't hold any negative connotation behind his mannerisms or words. It was high spirited, and in that moment, it even bewildered Vince. The male even smiled towards him. The protective nature he held diminishing in an instant. What the fuck? He was expecting the man to be furious, to barge over and attempt to curb stomp him til' he turned into minced beef. This further scrambled his brain as he stood there with an unreadable expression, arms dropped down pathetically at his side, cigarette hanging on by a thread and nearly falling from his lips. He swallowed thickly, brows furrowing as words rolled around in his head while irises studied the other from head to toe. Trying to figure him out on his own while the accented man chatted with Clare.

Snapping back to reality upon being acknowledged, meeting Jace's gaze, he could sense a similar vibe while the two studied each other. Posture having now relaxed in his presence. Wanting to pipe up with some fib that happened to come to mind at the mention of his profession but was cut off when Clare tried to answer for him. It was hard to hide what he truly got himself mixed up in, especially from someone who looked like they knew the streets very well, judging by appearance. His knuckles had split for God's sake, no hiding that. Paulie threatened him to not speak about it to just anyone, since feds liked to snake their way in like a bunch of sleuths; using several aliases and a wide range of disguises one could think of. Acting as if they couldn't be paid off when they very well could. Paul held some other intention for being so discreet, but Vince wasn't sure what. The man didn't appear that way or give off such vibe at all. Matter of fact, he almost looked like he belonged to a different crowd of delinquents due to how he presented himself. The 'president' patch catching eye and it further fueled his curiosity for the stranger.

'Play'? he questioned internally, quickly putting the puzzle pieces together. He should've known the guitar that caught his attention wasn't just some throwaway hobby. Clearing his throat, he nodded in response while pulling the lighter out of the pocket of his wool Italian pants and holding it up to light the cigarette he desperately craved. Now having a much-needed excuse for the nicotine more than ever. After taking a hit, the cig lied lazily between his fingers. "Vincent Kraus, but feel free to call me Vince. Nice to meet ya'." He sniffed, trying to play it cool as the corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. Disguising his accent in order to throw off the other, all for the sake of his own amusement. A quirk he inherited on his own, among many others. Not wanting to reveal everything about himself to the stranger until well acquainted.

He wasn't one to shake hands or even instigate it for that matter, only complying if the other did first. Especially those of the same sex due to a dominant standpoint, something that was difficult to control since his testosterone levels were through the roof. Thankfully, it didn't make him insufferably toxic in comparison to some and he did his best to present himself that he wasn't a threat. Crew. Yeah, this guy was for sure part of something just as he was. And him being the only guy, minus the crew he speaks of, allowed in her home made him sought answers. "You have any relation to Clare?" The tone held no ill intent behind it, using the chance to take another drag, but the mention of tonight's gig then caused him to turn towards Clare, his attention now directly upon her.