Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sadie
The sound of James’s bike greets me as I lock the front door. He’s pulling off his helmet by the time I make it down the apartment steps.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says.
“Just in time.”
“I had plans for before we left.”
The heat in his eyes shoots straight to my core, and my body aches to stand Bowie up and spend the rest of the night letting James push me to my limits. Or maybe pushing him to his.
But I have to do this. For myself just as much as anyone else.
His giant hand grips my middle and tugs me forward so our lips can slam together. He feeds me his tongue, moaning into my mouth when I meet the movement with a graze of my teeth.
“We could stay here,” he suggests.
“Nice try.” Then, using all my willpower, I pull away from him and gesture to my car. “You don’t have to come.”
“I’m fucking coming.”
I’d make a dirty joke in reply, but the nerves are returning, suffocating any humor from my lungs. Instead, I nod and lead James to my car. He adjusts the front seat, pushing it as far back as possible to give his freakishly long legs room.
“Bowie will have a team of guards with him,” James says ten minutes later, breaking the silence.
“I know.” And I know the guards would put a bullet in my head without blinking. Contrary to what James thinks, I’m not going into this with complete ignorance.
“If anything feels off, get out of there. Please.”
“It’ll be fine, James.”
His jaw works as he grinds his teeth. The muscles in his arms bunch like he’s physically fighting to hold in his feelings. After Matthew, I understand even more why this is so hard for him.
“Maybe you should get in the back. Or lay the seat down,” I suggest when we get closer to the restaurant. “He could have someone watching.”
“Fuck, you’re right.” James reaches down the side of his seat and pulls the lever to push his seat as flat as it’ll go.
If someone were to look right into the car, they’d see him, but watching from a distance, it’ll appear that I'm alone. Unless they think too much about why the passenger seat isn’t in view.
Letting him come may have been dumb. It could be what seals my fate. But I knew telling him about this plan was a gamble. And I couldn’t sleep with him in good conscience knowing that I was keeping this secret. We’ve been in this together from the beginning, and he deserved to know.
Besides, I can’t deny that it helps knowing he’ll be there. Even if he realistically couldn’t do anything to save me if something went wrong. Just knowing he’ll be waiting for me in the parking lot helps calm the raging nerves.
I park the car and flex my fingers on the wheel, eyes trained on the restaurant’s front door. I feel a soft touch on my leg and look down to see James’s hand resting on my thigh.
“You can do this,” he says, voice filled with conviction.
Nodding, I mutter, “Yeah.” Then I squeeze his hand once and climb out of the car.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I whisper to myself, fighting the desire to turn around and drive away.
But no. I won’t run from this. Not again.
Too many times, I have let fear win. If I don’t figure out how to handle my own shit, then I’ll forever be dependent on other people to keep me safe.
And that’s not fair. I won’t be a leech in my relationships.
My friends should be able to rely on me just as much as I can rely on them.
June has saved me plenty of times, probably more than I realize. This time, I am going to save her.
With a deep, fortifying breath, I open the front door and walk inside.
The hostess greets me and doesn’t even ask for my name or who I’m meeting before telling me to follow her.
I frown but obey, and she leads me into a private back room, where Bowie is sitting alone at one of the small tables. He stands, eyes traveling down my body.
“Thank you, Marie,” Bowie says.
“Sir.” The hostess nods at him then leaves, letting the door shut behind her.
“Let me guess, you own this place and the bakery?” I ask, taking the chair he gestures at.
He just smiles and says, “You look lovely, bella.”
“You clean up nice yourself. I definitely prefer this version of you rather than whoever was at my apartment last week.”
“That was fast. We haven’t even ordered our drinks.”
“Sorry, do you want me to pretend like that’s not exactly why I’m here? You said I could ask my questions.”
“I prefer to exchange civil pleasantries before discussing business.”
“I don’t want to discuss business. I want answers.”
His careful grin doesn’t falter, but a darkness drapes over his expression. “I don’t appreciate demands from liars.”
“Liars? All I did was introduce myself using my middle name. You’re the one acting shady, calling my best friend a snake, and accusing me of being a spy.”
“Calling her a snake would be kind.”
“Okay, that. That is why I wanted to talk to you.” My pulse skids, and I suddenly wish I’d taken more than one theater class in high school. “I don’t care about whatever you have going on, Bowie. I just want to know how you know June.”
His smile starts to fall, but it snaps back into place when our waiter walks in.
Bowie doesn’t ask for my opinion before ordering us a glass of wine and two different appetizers.
I don’t argue with him, because I doubt I’ll be here for an entire meal, anyway.
I made a decision about how to play this, and I have to stick with it.
I already made peace with the fact that I’ll no longer be attempting to date this man or sneak into his gang.
“Surely you’re aware of your best friend’s involvement?” he says once we’re alone again.
“Involvement in what? The Saints of Purgatory?”
“So, you do know.”
“That my best friend’s boyfriend is the president of a motorcycle club? Yeah, I kind of picked that up when I saw the jackets.” I intentionally don’t say “cuts,” hoping to come across as more ignorant than I am.
“Oh, they’re more than a little club. So is your friend.”
I frown and shift uncomfortably.
“Which I think you know.” The taunting note in his voice is unmistakable.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I mutter.
“Oh, bella. Are we really playing that game?”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t insult me. Do you think I’d believe for a second that you’re really that clueless?”
“Fine!” I shout. Sitting back in the chair, I count to five before continuing.
“Yes, okay? I looked into the Saints and they aren’t…
they don’t… June won’t tell me anything,” I admit, volume lowering.
“She promised they were just a motorcycle club. But I’ve noticed things.
And I know some of them have been arrested.
But I don’t know why June is sticking around.
She wouldn’t get mixed up with people like that.
She wouldn’t put herself in danger. There has to be a reason or…
please,” I beg. “Please, tell me what’s going on.
I know you know. Just tell me what’s going on with my best friend so I can help her.
” I clutch my hands together and manage to hold Bowie’s gaze.
Maybe it’s fear or exhaustion or something else entirely, but unshed tears suddenly burn behind my eyes.
I force them to stay open for another few seconds before I blink and reach up to rub them with my knuckles.
Bowie listens to my entire outburst without a flicker of emotion. The waiter returns to pour our wine during our silent stare down. He rushes out after Bowie dismisses him with a flick of his hand.
“Well,” Bowie says with a loud sigh. He picks up his glass and swirls it, sniffing the contents, then gesturing for me to pick up my own glass.
I do but don’t drink.
“I’m afraid you don’t know your friend very well,” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“With my line of work, we often come into contact with the less… desirable population. Zervas’s crew is one of the dirtiest groups of criminals I’ve ever come across.”
Says the gang leader, I think.
“June Graves is anything but unaware of their sordid affairs.”
“But she didn’t tell me—”
“People tend to keep their criminal activity a secret from their law-abiding neighbors.”
“I’m her best friend.”
“Clearly.”
I want to tell him to swallow his sarcasm and choke on it, but I keep my lips pressed tightly together.
“If I remember correctly, you told me that life can never get too interesting. It appears you’ve been proven wrong.”
“Think what you want of me, but I don’t actually give a shit about what the Saints of Purgatory do in their free time.
They’re probably puppies compared to people I’ve dealt with in the past. I care about my friend because she can’t handle that kind of life.
She’s delicate. She’s good. She’s been through a lot, and she still dedicates her life to helping other people.
I just don’t want her to ruin her life by getting trapped by the wrong guy.
” Sometimes, lies taste bitter on my tongue.
These don’t. These taste fresh and crisp.
Like berries plucked right off the vine.
Bowie laughs. “Delicate? Perhaps we’re talking about different women. I have only met your friend once, but I can assure you, she’s not delicate.”
“Okay, that’s not the right word. Sure, she’s a badass. But, like…” I gesture wildly, as if looking for the right word. “Recreationally. She likes thrills, but only in carefully controlled circumstances.”
He scoffs, taking another long sip of his wine. “If I had to guess, I’d say that she likes a lot more than thrills. Honestly, she’s perfect for Zervas. Her crazy matches his.”
“Don’t call my best friend crazy.”
“Even if she is?”
“She’s not! She—”
“Slit open my friend’s throat in front of a room full of witnesses without so much as a blink of hesitation.”
My lips stay parted for a breath before I slam them shut and lean back in my chair. Staring at Bowie, I wish I could physically force my face to go pale, because it would really add to the dramatics. “You’re insane. She would never…”