Page 28 of Adding Fuel To The Flames
CHAPTER 12
Three days later
“Hey, Rhys, are you in here?” Jett called out as he stepped into the dimly lit club. Getting no response, Jett moved farther inside, letting the door close behind him. He crossed the room, stepping around piles of tarps and paint cans. Once he reached the bar he called out again, “Hey, Rhys! You here buddy? I came as fast as I could!”
Still no answer. “Great. I rushed all the way here doing over ninety through the mountain pass, almost taking out a family of deer in the process, because Rhys called, crying, begging for help, and now the guy isn’t even here,” Jett mumbled to himself, then turned to leave, but then stopped. “No. There is no way Rhys would do that. Hell, I don’t know anyone who would do that. And with Zev’s psycho father roaming free…Rhys!”
Jett spun back around and headed toward the far end of the club as he continued to call out Rhys’ name. Jett was beginning to panic as he quickened his pace and turned toward the hall leading back to the offices.
Suddenly Rhys appeared, strolling out of the hall like nothing was wrong, while reading from a folder in his hands. He stopped short and looked up in surprise when Jett snarled, “What the fuck, dude? You scared the shit out of me.”
“Yeah, well, I can say the same thing to you,” Rhys bitched as he placed a hand on his chest and started breathing heavily. “What the fuck are you doing here and why are you yelling? I’m not deaf you know.”
Jett’s eyes went wide for a moment as annoyed shock crossed his face. “Why am I here? Oh gee, I don’t know. Getting a frantic phone call at midnight from a crying pixie who is being chased by a Mac truck carrying fruit loops and a shit ton of crazy might answer that,” Jett huffed.
“What the hell are you taking about? You got a call from Twix? But he’s not here,” Rhys stated as he walked toward the bar.
Jett took a deep calming breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Slowly letting the air out, he turned to follow Rhys. “No, not Twix, you.”
Rhys stopped at the long-polished bar and placed the folder down, then turned to face Jett. “Me? I didn’t call you.”
“Yes, you did, about half hour ago. I just got off duty and was heading home when you called. You were panicking and crying, begging for help. Something about Salem being outside the club pounding to get in, and he was breaking the door down.”
“Jett, although I appreciate you rushing here to help me, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I did not call you. A half hour ago, I was in a meeting with the new guy I hired to manage the club. He just left ten minutes ago.”
“You hold meetings at midnight?”
“In this business, you hold meetings, and even job interviews, whenever you can. The guy is managing another club a town over and this was the only time he had before he headed into work there.”
Jett stared at Rhys in confusion for a few minutes, then turned his head, looking around the deserted club. “Well, if it wasn’t you I talked to, then who was it?” Jett turned back around to face Rhys. “So?” he asked with a raised brow.
“It worked like a charm,” Marco said as he pulled the wig from his head and gave Jett a smile.
“You know, you really do look like Rhys with that wig on. Okay, maybe not identical like Finn and I, but pretty damn close,” Jett said.
“I guess you’re right because it was enough to fool Salem,” Marco added.
“So, let’s get going,” Jett said and held out his hand. Marco grabbed it and the two disappeared.
* * * *
One minute he was standing in the deserted bar with a two by four in his hand ready to strike, listening to Rhys and Jett go on about his faked phone call, and the next minute he was standing in an open field at the top of a mountain. Salem felt a hand on his shoulder and spun around to face who was there. Just as his gaze fell on the small man before him, the man pulled his hand back, gave him a smile, then shifted into an owl and flew away.
“Why have you come back, Salem?” Illan’s deep, deadly voice boomed across the land.
Salem turned to his right and spotted Illan Sutherlan, King of the Dragons, standing a hundred yards from him. Salem met the man’s heated gaze and the side of his lip lifted in a smirk as his eyes filled with mischief. He was happy to be standing here facing the man who had stolen his son from him. He hated Illan and had spent many years trying to figure out a way to destroy him.
“I hear you’re in Crystal now, Sutherlan. Which means you have no right to question why I am here. This isn’t your town,” Salem replied, taunting.
“You’re right, it’s not,” Illan said and flashed Salem a wicked smile of his own. The look on Illan’s face making Salem’s dragon take notice and the two of them became suspicious.
“But it is mine,” a very deep, dark voice came from behind Illan. Salem watched as a large, dark figure moved from behind Illan and stepped up next to him. The man was about the same size as the dragon king, but more muscular and foreboding.
“Who the hell are you?” Salem asked wearily.
“The man who will make you leave this town and never return,” he answered.
Salem laughed loudly. “You and what army, fledgling?” he taunted as he lowered his arm, the two by four dropping to the ground.