Chapter Eighteen
June
On the way to Sadie’s apartment, I stop at the store to buy recording equipment.
There’s something going on with Theo and James, and I want to know what it is.
Basically forcing me to leave the house they’re keeping me prisoner in and suggesting I go see my friend who isn’t a Saint can only mean it’s a big deal, whatever it is.
Maybe a few planted microphones will shed some light on the situation.
I double-check my neck before heading inside, confirming that the makeup I applied earlier covers the marks Theo left.
I’m not worried about Sadie seeing them, because she understands how rough sex can leave bruises, but I don’t want to deal with the questions from Evelyn and Rose if Sadie tells them.
“The prodigal daughter returns!” Sadie shouts, throwing open the front door before I’ve reached it.
I roll my eyes. “We Facetimed on Friday.”
“But I haven’t seen you since Tuesday!” she says, pulling me into a hug. “For all I know, you could’ve been killed or thrown in prison or something.”
Laughing at how close to the truth she is, I follow Sadie inside and greet Soot, her giant dog. “You’d be my first call if I was thrown in prison.”
“I’d expect nothing less. So, why the last-minute hang?”
“Can’t I just miss my best friend?” I wipe slobber from my face with my sleeve and stand, following her to the kitchen.
“Duh, but that’s not what this is.”
“How do you know?”
Sadie grabs her teapot, giving me an unamused face. Her square tortoise shell glasses slide down her nose, perching on the end to give her a sexy librarian look. “We’ve been best friends for five years. I know you.”
You know part of me. “Fine. It’s just…” I use the time it takes to pull in a deep breath to conjure a reason that doesn’t involve Theo. Or, at least doesn’t directly involve him, because what I come up with is, “Evelyn has ignored all my calls and texts since Tuesday.”
“Maybe she’s busy.”
“She’s been texting in the group chat.”
Sadie frowns, evidently attempting to come up with another reason that’ll make me feel better.
She fills two loose-leaf tea steepers with a dried mix that doubtless came straight from her greenhouse, hopefully not the one I sometimes break into that has the more dubious plants and flowers.
“I doubt she’s ignoring you on purpose.”
“She is, and we both know why. She’s pissed at me for dating a criminal. She thinks I’m disrespecting our professions or something.”
“Maybe it’s just bringing up her own bad experiences,” she suggests.
My hand pauses mid-petting Soot, and the dog looks back at me, whining. How had I not considered that? Evelyn rarely talks about her past, but we all know the highlights.
Emotionally abusive father, mother arrested for prostitution, sister arrested for dealing drugs, which Ev helped make happen by testifying against her, and a narcissistic ex-husband.
After the shit show that was her first twenty-four years of life, she now spends every second trying to keep other kids from similar situations.
So, yeah, I should’ve realized that my being involved with a group of criminals would trigger some stuff.
“Fuck.”
Sadie pats my arm sympathetically. “Give her time. She’ll realize it’s not the same situation.”
No, it’s not.
It’s worse.
~
Shockingly, Theo is at the house when I return. I expected him to be at the clubhouse or Iron Cage, but he’s standing in the kitchen facing the stove. I automatically sniff, stomach rumbling at the smell of garlic and baked bread.
“Little reaper,” Theo says, looking over his shoulder.
“Tinkerbell,” I say, remembering the nickname I haven’t used since our amicable night watching Die Hard .
“I highly caution you against making that a nickname,” he says.
“You get to have one for me.”
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets his brown eyes rake over my body, and our last interaction fills my mind. His hands around my throat, desire pooling low, his promise to tie me up.
The images vanish when he asks, “Do you like pasta?”
“What?”
“Pasta, the food. Do you enjoy it?”
I nod. “Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t?”
“I’ve known people who don’t.” There’s a story behind that, I can tell. But I don’t have the chance to ask. “I’m making garlic butter chicken pasta. There’s also garlic bread in the oven.”
I drop my bag on the dining table and venture into the kitchen. “Making sure I'm not a vampire?”
He chuckles. “You can never have too much garlic.”
“Look at that, we agree on something.” I stop next to him at the stove, and my mouth waters at the sight of the food.
“Have fun with Sadie?”
“Yeah. Going to tell me why James kicked me out of the house?”
“No.”
At least he didn’t deny kicking me out. “How about last night?”
“Can we not do this again?” he asks, a genuine plea in his voice.
“We wouldn’t have to if you just told me the truth.”
He sighs, stirring more cheese into the pasta.
“I have a contact in the police force,” he says.
I’m so shocked that he’s giving me an answer that I nearly forget to breathe.
“Sometimes he gives me a heads up before the cops are going to raid somewhere in the Saints' territory, especially if he thinks one of my people may be around. He said they were about to raid a known drug dealer’s house based on an anonymous tip, and he always warns me if drugs are involved, even though most of the Saints don’t deal.
Anyways, he told me where it was right after I learned you’d disappeared, and I somehow knew where you’d gone.
All I had to do was check the tracker in your wallet to verify my suspicions. ”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“You already think so little of us. I worried knowing I have a cop actively keeping us off the police radar who, for some reason, assumes a Saint is involved with every little crime in the area, would somehow prove your belief about how terrible we are.”
An odd twinge fills my chest at that answer. “Theo, I… I don’t think you’re all terrible.”
His eyebrows raise. “No? Just me then?”
Now would be the time to tell him about Amber. To ask him what happened. Did he kill her after finding out she betrayed the Saints? Or did someone else get rid of her?
But the twinge in my chest won’t let me ask. It travels low, twisting at the base of my stomach and morphing into a very different need than the fire.
“You did tell me you were a monster just this morning. Right after choking me.”
The memory pulls Theo’s eyes to my neck, where the marks are still covered by makeup. He turns away from the stove and takes a step closer to me. “You were being a brat.”
My mouth drops open. Did he just call me a brat? “Do you typically choke people for being brats?”
“Just the ones who want me to.”
Annoyed and more turned on by the second, I reach my hands to his chest, preparing to shove him back. Instead, he grabs my wrists and tugs me closer. My neck strains as I attempt to hold eye contact.
“I think it’s time you remember your place here, little reaper.” His voice lowers, void of any humor that was present moments ago. His pupils are blown, and he licks his lips.
“And what’s that?” I feel him hardening in his jeans and privately hope he’ll push me to my knees.
But before he can respond, his phone rings, the shrill sound demanding.
“I’m going to kill him,” Theo mutters, reaching blindly down the counter for his phone without letting me go.
“You don’t even know who it is.”
“I don’t care.” He finds his phone and presses it to his ear. I shift forward unconsciously, pressing my body against his erection. He answers with a curt, “What?”
The answer makes him freeze. I promptly stop moving, sensing trouble when his muscles tense, and the veins in his arms bulge.
He steps back, and the loss of his weight and body heat lingers like a cold ache. “God, what a fucking idiot,” he says, knuckles turning white with how hard he grips the phone. “Yeah, I know.” He turns off the stove and oven, then races to his bedroom, saying something else into the phone.
I follow, catching the end of his next sentence.
“—if he’s even still alive tomorrow.” The anger in his voice is different than when he’s mad at me.
It’s the type of disappointed, partly scared anger that parents have when their children disobey and do something dangerous.
He heads to the closet in his bathroom and squats in front of a metal safe.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hangs up, keys in the code on the safe, and pulls out a gun.
Instinctively, I tense and reach for my knife. But then Theo is securing the gun into the back of his pants and walking past me, a scowl on his face.
“What’s going on?”
“Issue at the Cage,” he answers curtly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
I’m close on his heels, desperately trying to catch up with the turn of events. “What? Wait, no.”
He pulls on his Saints of Purgatory cut, turning to face me. “Sorry to leave you like this. But I’ll make it up to you, little reaper. Promise.”
I grab his forearm, nails digging into the leather jacket. “No.”
“I have to go.”
“Fine, but I’m going with you.”
He frowns. “No, you’re not.”
“Isn’t our deal that I take part in Saints activities?”
“Not this stuff. It’ll be dangerous.”
My eyebrows raise. “I can do danger, Theo.”
“I won’t be able to focus on you.”
“I don’t need you to. I can take care of myself.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw as he glares at me, warring with himself. Finally, he sighs and says, “Fine, just be careful and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Always am.”