Page 43 of Missing Piece (Neon Scars #2)

I t didn’t matter how many bottles of water he drank, he could still taste the vomit on his tongue and the burn in his throat hours after losing his lunch while hugging the surprisingly clean porcelain of a nightclub toilet.

He wasn’t expecting such a sudden and violent reaction while crammed between Luka and Matteo like the cream filling of a cursed Oreo in a room full of vampires, but then again, he wasn’t expecting Caleb Walsh to walk past the club and glance in as though he could sense Adam sitting in there.

He made a point of never thinking about the other people involved in his accident after he barely graduated high school, let alone speaking about it, but all it took was some bad liquor to make him run at the mouth and spill his inner shitstorm to Vincent.

And like some sort of jinx, one of the people from the other car appeared.

If anything, it served him right. He deserved to vomit as violently as he did.

It had been years and he never attempted to apologize for being an asshole—no, that was too light of a word. He was a bully. An unrepentant, unrelenting bully who made Caleb Walsh’s life a living hell for the mere crime of being on the road that day, and the poor kid never even knew why.

He was grateful when Vincent joined them in the backroom that he had only asked Adam if he was feeling better and left it at that. The vampire could probably sense he was uneasy about the whole thing. Maybe he was just too busy with the constant onslaught of other vampires coming to speak with him.

That had been a surprise. Despite each one of them appearing nervous around Vincent at first, they settled into a strange ritual where they would start by entering the room slowly, almost apologetically.

Adam finally understood what Vincent had meant that night on the porch by not wanting his reputation tarnished if Adam ran his mouth on any of the “kindness” he had been shown.

Everyone except for Marcus, Tariq, and Ophelia looked like they were waiting for a bomb to go off in his presence.

Adam knew the feeling well, being on the receiving end of that trepidation, and Vincent played into it well. It wasn’t until they devolved into rapidly speaking in different languages to each other that some semblance of caring or at least interest lit up Vincent’s face.

How many languages did he know? He knew for sure there was a conversation in French with the guy in a sequin eyepatch, Spanish with a bottle blonde tan young man, and Korean with the guy dressed in scrubs that both Tariq and Vincent called “Jae-Jae”.

The others…well, he wasn’t well-traveled or all that interested in learning back when he was in school, so he could barely feign a guess.

The first guy Vincent walked back with immediately devolved into a strangely tense discussion in a language he had never heard in his life, but Adam desperately wanted to follow the conversation because that one they called “Mattie” wore a sheriff’s office badge .

It would have been a great time to ask the guy if Adam had an active warrant, but unlike the other conversations, it never devolved into something more pleasant and casual.

The whole thing remained tense and made Adam want to lay down on the curved couch of the backroom and sleep until they could go back to the farmhouse.

Though that was probably just the strain of puking his guts up.

Even as the night wore on, he found himself dozing in and out of verbal and non-verbal conversations, occasionally interrupted by Tariq or Ophelia checking on them.

They both had a mischievous air about them when they did, like they were hoping to walk in on something more interesting than business talk and a napping human.

Adam was a depraved son-of-a-bitch, but he wasn’t some kind of exhibitionist. Stripping down to his birthday suit and jumping Vincent’s bones in front of the brothers did not sound appealing at all.

Though later…

He pressed his palms against his eyes, ignoring the itching in his back from the stitches, trying to push the thought away.

He was letting his dick do the thinking again, and that pleasant fluttering in his gut whenever he met Vincent’s gaze wasn’t helping the situation.

One blowjob and a good fuck shouldn’t have made him feel this way, especially about a guy who could snap his neck with the same amount of effort it took to open a jar of pickles.

It had to be the lack of pills. He was comfortably numb before, completely disconnected from those who shared his companionship and his bed.

Well…comfortably wasn’t the right word, but it worked for him.

No one ever got close enough to hurt him, and he never had as much as a passing attachment to any of those people, at least that he could re member. A lot of it was a blur.

“I need a drink,” Adam said as he reached for the crutch leaning against the couch.

Vincent ran his fingers through Adam’s hair, smiling at him. “Make sure you get a bottle of water as well. Have it put on my tab,” he said.

“No chaperone?” Adam asked as he pulled himself up, Vincent bracing his lower back as he did. That light, barely there touch made his stomach knot again. Yeah, I definitely need that drink.

“Are you planning on running away?” Vincent asked with a grin.

“Not today.” Adam bit down on his lower lip, trying not to let a smile form on his face as well. He shouldn’t like this fucked up banter.

“Good, because I have a surprise for you later, and it would be a shame to have it ruined.”

With a nod, pursing his lips as hard as he could, he headed out of the curtained room back into the eerie black-lit hallway.

The bass from the main floor thrummed through the walls, a constant thrum that made his teeth ache.

He had been to Club Euphoria a handful of times when he was younger and rocking a fake ID, and during that time he always wondered what was behind the thick black curtain always guarded by at least one bouncer, but he had never been curious enough to try and sneak past one of them.

He was usually too busy trying to find a fix or have a good time.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t, because the whole area appeared to be sectioned off for the vampires of the city.

Vincent made it clear the vampires in their town were of the nicer variety, but if they were overly hungry or grumpy, he probably would have been found as a bloodless husk behind the club the very same night.

“Alright ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, it’s last call. Get your drinks and order your rides, because we will drag your drunk asses out of here at 2 o’clock on the dot!” the DJ announced over the loudspeakers.

Adam glanced up at the booth as the music returned to a steady, deafening volume that made the back of his head ache.

He could vaguely remember enjoying this kind of environment, but it was too much now.

At least Tariq was enjoying himself. He was bouncing to the beat as though he had all the energy in the world.

He grinned at Adam navigating through the people still dancing and enjoying themselves, waving at him like a kid who just saw the first ice cream truck rolling up in the summer. Adam just nodded at him before his eyes fixed on the bar on the left side of the club.

There was more of a crowd on the right, but between the throngs of people trying to get their last orders in, he was pretty sure he could see Ophelia’s mass of hair. Best not to bother her.

“Broken fuck coming through,” he said as he got up to the opposite bar lined with color-changing LED lights, ignoring the irritated looks on a group of drunk guys’ faces.

The blonde bartender behind the counter barely looked at him, but Adam could see her eyes flick up for a second before she pointed at him. “What’ll it be?”

“Whatever your cheapest beer is and a bottle of water,” he said, leaning against the bar. “It’s going on Vincent Bellenger’s tab.”

She eyed him suspiciously as she popped the cap off an amber bottle of beer before she grabbed the walkie-talkie next to her register. “Hey, Ophelia, Mr. Bellenger ever order a beer before?”

“Nope,” Ophelia’s voice crackled over the speaker, loud enough for Adam to hear. “Why?”

Great. Now I know they’re fucking with me. Adam patted his back pocket. Oh yeah. No wallet. Shit.

“There’s a guy here who looks like his face had a date with a baseball bat telling me to put something on Mr. Bellenger’s tab,” the blonde said.

“Oh, that’s Adam. He’s good.”

The blonde shrugged and placed the beer and water on the bar top. “Enjoy.”

Adam walked away from the bar, beer and water bottle crushed together in one hand, glancing around at the few patrons remaining as they pounded their final drinks.

The crowd was thinning out fast, giving him a clearer view of the dance floor and the emergency exits.

Getting back to Vincent and the brothers would be simple enough now.

He just had to avoid the groups of drunk college kids stumbling around like pinballs.

As Adam neared the DJ booth, a man with dark hair approached, his attire more befitting a suburban dad on a Costco run than a club-goer in the wee hours of the morning.

The stranger’s ensemble, a faded polo shirt tucked into khaki shorts, complete with white New Balance sneakers, stood out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of glitter and leather that filled the dance floor.

He held out a hand towards Adam. “Here, let me help you with those. Looks like you’ve got your hands full, son.

” His accent was off. Too southern and twangy to be from the countryside .