Page 35 of Bullets and Blood (Hunting Hearts #1)

Chapter Thirty

Nix sat in the truck with the window cracked and the breeze on his face, so he didn’t have to smell the dried sweat on the truckie.

While Nix knew he didn’t smell all that delightful, even though he’d changed his clothes, he had an excuse and the bite marks on his ass to prove it.

The seats in the truck were extremely uncomfortable on his bruised ass, but he’d do it all again in a heartbeat because he’d much rather be in Lance’s hands than anyone else’s.

A small smile formed as he remembered the way Lance had felt on top of him.

The truckie kept glancing at him. Nix hadn’t shaved in three days, and that, coupled with the bruises on his jaw and forehead and the grazes on his knuckles—and other places the man couldn’t see—did suggest that he’d been having a rough time.

Explaining that he’d enjoyed every moment was far too difficult.

If the truckie asked or said one wrong word Nix was going to slam the man’s head into the steering wheel and toss his body out the door. Much more satisfying than ensorcelling him. Sometimes he hated looking eighteen. As if sensing the hostility, the man returned his attention to the road.

Two more hours to go. He’d be in Albany with time to spare.

One of the phones in his bag pinged.

He rummaged in the front pocket until he grabbed the right one, his phone.

The message was a string of emojis that indicated Lance was awake and livid.

He deserved that. But Lance needed to stay away. He didn’t reply.

His phone pinged again while he was holding it.

A red love heart.

Nix winced. He doubted very much that meant Lance still loved him. Hopefully, it meant he’d gone to the Reids and that they’d keep him safe. That was one less thing to worry about. He was on his own. He dropped his phone back into his bag.

“Your parents want you home?”

Nix shot him a glare. He wasn’t a teenager, no matter how he looked.

Curse his mother for being so traditional.

She could’ve let all her sons go to uni and age up a bit; it wasn’t the eighteen hundreds anymore.

He had argued and lost, but he was sure he’d only lost because of the broken peace talks.

Everything went back to that. Killing the man responsible hadn’t made him feel any better.

No death had ever made him feel good.

“I’m twenty-seven, mate. Old enough to live my own life.” Yet he never had. He’d had to fight for everything he wanted, and he gave up when it got too hard. Life shouldn’t be a constant battle. His mouth turned down.

“You’re still somebody’s kid.”

He’d never known his father all he knew was his last name had been Nixon—his mother liked all the old traditions. “My family is dead. I’m no one’s.” Not even Lance’s. He’d have liked to have been Lance’s boyfriend without the truce, and give being with him a proper try.

“I have kids. There’s always someone who cares.”

Damn, now he couldn’t smash the man’s face in. He didn’t want to scare the man’s kids. Nix held the man’s gaze and made his voice soft and melodic, capturing the man’s attention. “You want to drive to Albany in silence.”

“Yeah. We’re going to Albany.” The truck started to veer as the man slipped into the enchantment.

Nix tugged on the steering wheel to stop them from drifting off the road as the man slipped into the ensorcellment. “In silence.”

“In silence,” the man agreed.

“Drive safely.” He released the man’s attention so he could focus on the road. When Nix was happy he wasn’t going to die in a wreck, he pulled his cap down, closed his eyes and tried to get some much needed sleep. It might be the last lot he ever got.

He woke when they slowed on the outskirts of town. The truck came to a stop at a petrol station that offered hot coffee because you shouldn’t drive tired.

“This is as far as I’m going into town.”

Nix thought about forcing him to drive on but couldn’t be bothered. “What drugs do you have?”

The man hesitated. Nix pulled the truth out of him with a glimmer and a smile.

“There’s some speed and dope in the first aid box.”

“Fabulous. Where is the box?”

“Beneath your seat.”

Nix pulled out the first aid kit and found a zip-lock bag of weed, some rolling papers, and some tablets.

The only thing more dangerous than a pissed-off vampire was an angry vampire on speed.

As tempting as it was, he needed to be in control tonight.

This morning. He’d get a coffee and chill and make peace with his life.

All the things he wouldn’t get to do nibbled at his heels like rabid possums.

He rolled up a joint while the truckie watched. “If you use two papers, you’ll get a much fatter?—”

Nix looked up. “I just want a taste; I don’t want to pass out and wake up with the munchies.”

It wouldn’t be the burger he had a craving for but the delicious fry-infused staff.

“Thanks for the ride and the smoke.” He offered the man his hand.

“You had a quiet trip alone.” He sniffed the man’s skin to be sure, but beneath the sweat and old fast food, there was something else.

“When you get home, you’re going to see your doctor.

Get your blood taken, your heart checked. Your kids need you around.”

The man nodded. “Yeah. I should, but I don’t have time.”

“Make time. It’s important. Call your wife and get her to make the appointment.

” Nix released the man’s hand and hoped that he wouldn’t brush off the suggestion, then he slithered out of the cab.

He’d grab a coffee and hitch a ride the rest of the way into town and to the industrial warehouse Mirabella had picked.

He went into the petrol station and bought his coffee. Once outside, he dug around his bag until he found his lighter and lit his joint. Then he started walking down the road, backpack over his shoulder, enjoying a little sunshine and not caring if he got sunburned.

An expensive red car pulled over, and the window went down. “Need a ride?”

There were two men in the car. Both in suits. The ones in suits were the worst, always thinking they could use their money or power to buy a piece of him. He knew. He’d been one.

“I’m fine.” This ride wouldn’t be for free.

“Get in.”

Nix inhaled and let the smoke creep into every crevice of his lungs before exhaling the smoke into the open window. “I said I’m fine. You should drive on before I rip your throats out.” He smiled, revealing fangs.

The driver widened his eyes.

Nix stepped back before the car sped off. He laughed. He should’ve taken the ride and had breakfast…but he was tired of dealing with people like that. The ones who only wanted what they could take. His whole life had been one long transaction.

And somehow, he’d ended up with nothing.

He checked the various phones in his bag, but there were no new messages. Nothing from Lance. His fingers hovered over the keypad.

I miss you already. Are you safe?

He deleted it just as fast as he typed it. There was no point. He was never going to see Lance again. They’d said their goodbyes. Anything he wrote would be for his benefit, not Lance’s. He rubbed the faded tattoo on his hand, wishing he could cut it out and forget it had ever existed.