The Legacy: The Son of Leviathan

Chapter 7 - The Accomplice

"Don't call me dollface," I snap to cover the sound of my thundering heartbeat that I'm sure he could hear.

He towers over me when he braces muscular arms at the top of the doorframe, invading my personal space. I hate that I like it too much.

His lips curl upward into an amused crooked smile. His eyes do another slow sweep of my figure. "You look adorable. But are you sure you want to go dressed like that?"

Adorable? Why did it sound like an insult? I briefly look down at the modest dress I have on. "What's wrong with the way I dress?" I ask defensively. I had my doubts about this dress but now that he mentioned it, I feel like I have to defend my choice.

"You look like you're heading to church with your grandma instead of going out for the night."

I almost choked on my own spit at how accurate he is. I used to wear it to church with my grandparents. But he couldn't have known it, right?

I straighten my spine indignantly. "Are we going soon or are you having too much fun insulting the way I look?"

"But I said you look adorable," he protests with an innocent charming smile.

I won't let that smile fool me. I shoot him an icy glare as I shoulder my way past him. I fumble with my key, trying to lock up and the smirk on his face grows, letting me know that he's enjoying riling me up.

Afterward, we move toward the staircase. This building is five-story high and the elevator hasn't worked for as long as I've been living here. It's a good thing that my apartment is on the second floor.

It's still early but the street outside isn't too busy even though the stores are still open. This is not a trendy part of the town but it's quite safe...mostly. There are a group of men smoking in one corner, eyeing us up.

His hand on the small of my back propels me along and it makes me feel oddly protected. Safe. It also feels more intimate than it should. The butterflies are fluttering in my stomach. The heat from his hand seeps through the thin material of my dress and I feel it everywhere.

He's leading me across the street, towards a classic muscle car- a Mustang, or something...I'm not good with cars. It is parked between the street lights so that it's in the darkest part of the street across from my building.

There's a silhouette of a man leaning against it. A small red glow of a cigarette moves with his hand and smoke swirls around him. I can't see much of him but when he straightens up, I realize how big he is and my steps falter.

Why am I going with Joshua King again? Doubt and a dose of fear start to form in my stomach like a hard lump of ice. I suppose I'm attracted to him. I'm crazy attracted to him, but I don't know him. This is how young women get kidnapped, especially stupid ones like me. My taste in men is crap and I can't be trusted to make good life decisions.

Joshua nudges me forward and I'm deciding whether or not to scream when he hollers, "One of these days, that nasty thing is going to kill you."

The man shrugs and flicks his cigarette to the ground. "You told me not to smoke in the car. Don't you give me grief about smoking outside now," returns the man.

"Damaris, this is my friend, OJ," says Joshua out loud before he leans in to whisper in my ear, "That's short for orange juice."

"Ummm..." I stare at the big guy skeptically and warily. Orange juice? I doubt it. The man looks positively scary and I don't want to offend him by saying the wrong thing or calling him by that stupid name...if it's not his real name.

He probably has an inch or two over Joshua King who's probably around 6′ 4". He's even bulkier too and that makes him look like a giant to me. His skin seems dark bronze in the dim light from the laundromat across the street but his hair is almost white and cropped close to his skull.