Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“She did. His name was Randy. He had a wife and a son who depended on him. He was an innocent man, and your friend split him from ear to ear.”
An innocent man who was about to shoot Theo in the head.
“No.” I shake my head and feel my hands start shaking as I push away from the table. “No. She wouldn’t… she… no.”
“She and her little boyfriend are attacking my people out of malicious greed.”
They’re trying to stay alive while you attack them.
“What? Why…”
“One of Zervas’s men forced himself on my baby cousin, and your friend is helping protect him. They have law enforcement in their back pocket.”
From what I’ve heard, Nico and Leticia were in love. There was no forcing being done. But that wouldn’t fit Bowie’s narrative, would it?
“Stop.”
“Tell me how, after all of that, I’m supposed to trust that meeting you was a coincidence and you’re not working with them?”
I stop shaking my head and snap my eyes back to his face. “Fuck you.”
Anger fizzles in his gaze. “Careful how you speak to me.”
“Why? Because you’ll have me killed? I’m not an idiot.
If even half of what you’re saying is true, then there’s no way you’re innocent in all of this.
Clearly, you’re a part of the criminal underworld too.
Again, I don’t give a shit. Trust me. I’ve dealt with people worse back in California.
But I don’t want to be part of it. Even if I did, I wouldn’t be a fucking rat.
” I push to my feet and start to walk away, ignoring the waiter attempting to deliver our appetizers.
One glance at us has the man turning on his heel and walking right back out.
“Leaving so soon, bella?”
I pause at the door, looking back. “I enjoy an interesting life as much as the next girl, Bowie. But I don’t appreciate being insulted or lied to.”
“I apologize for the insults,” he says. “But I can assure you, I haven’t lied. When you figure that out, you have my number. Perhaps we can finish our second date.”
“This wasn’t a date.”
“No? Then why are you wearing lipstick?”
My lips part and my cheeks warm. “Even if I wanted a second date, I wouldn’t go out with someone who wants to hurt my best friend.”
“Perhaps you should reconsider your choice of friends.”
“June is a good person. I don’t believe for a second that she’s a murderer.”
“I understand the desire to believe what is easy. But you asked for the truth, and I provided it.”
I roll my lips together, unable to think of a decent response to that. Finally, I say, “If you want to give me the truth, then tell me why you were so afraid when you found out I’m June’s friend.”
His amusement bleeds into annoyance. “I wasn’t afraid.”
“Then why did you care? Even if I knew all of this. Even if I was dating you for some… some sort of fucked up revenge reasons, what could I possibly do to you? What are you afraid of?”
He jumps to his feet, hands slamming against the table and making me jump. “I’m not afraid, I’m angry.”
“Why? Because June allegedly killed your friend?”
“Because once again, the fucking Saints of Purgatory are trying to insert their people into my life just to hurt my family.”
“Like your cousin?”
His face goes red as genuine fury starts bubbling over. The fear of what this man could do to me returns in full force, but my feet stay planted. Thankfully, not because I’m frozen but because I want to hear what he has to say.
“That dog sleeping with my Leticia is the least of the Saints’ crimes.
If you want to know the truth about your friend and her new boyfriend, ask them about what happened the last time they sent one of their whores into my home.
Ask them about eight years ago, when they broke the truce for their own selfish needs.
Ask them who went after children first. Then remind them what happens when you try to come for Bowie Silva.
And when you learn the truth and realize how little you mean to them, how expendable you are to them, and decide you want to know what real loyalty and respect feels like, then you can call me. ”
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, fighting the desire to ask for an explanation right now. But he won’t tell me, and the need to leave and get to James is too strong.
Finally, I say, “Bye, Bowie,” and turn around. My legs are weak and shaking the entire walk to my car. When I get in and don’t see James in the passenger seat, I panic, until I hear movement in the back and turn around to see the top of his head.
“Shh, drive,” he says. Without another word, I obey. I don’t manage a single full breath until I’m driving away without being followed. Only then does James awkwardly drag his giant body through the car and return to the front seat.
“One of his guys came to check your car. Thought it best I didn’t have to kill him while you were still in there,” he says in explanation.
I nod.
“You okay?” When I don’t reply, his voice gets lower, deadlier. “Did he touch you?”
His alphahole anger makes me smile, instantly alleviating the lingering tension. “God, you’re a walking collection of book tropes. It’s not good for a girl’s ovaries.”
“Is that Sadie-talk for you’re turned on?”
Laughing, I shake my head and relax slightly, my grip on the steering wheel no longer turning my knuckles white. “See, you do speak my language.”
“I’m not sure I like how quickly you’re turned on after spending time with that asshole.”
“Maybe you underestimate how hot you are.”
I can see his smirk out of the corner of my eyes, followed by the touch of his fingers to my thigh, I really am quickly becoming turned on.
Except then I think about the last hour, and any arousal suffocates under anxiety. The meeting wasn’t quite what I wanted, but hopefully it eliminated Bowie’s suspicions of me.
“What are you thinking about?” James asks, his hand still on my leg. But I barely feel his touch as I replay every word, looking for moments when I may have tripped up.
I hope he doesn't look too hard into my past, because my time in California wasn’t as reminiscent of Sopranos as I suggested.
One of my high school friends was arrested for selling ecstasy and Will’s college girlfriend came from a family of infamous gunrunners, but that’s about it.
I didn’t live in a major drug dealer's den like Evelyn, grow up in a cult like Rose and Maple, or murder my abusive father when I was fifteen like June.
My friend group is really fucked up.
At least we have Taco Tuesdays.
“Sadie?”
“According to Bowie, you guys are the real dangerous criminals in town, not them,” I say.
He scoffs. To my disappointment, the pressure on my leg disappears. A glance in his direction shows him rubbing his chin, then pulling at his beard, as if in deep thought. “It’s not surprising that he’d try to paint us as the bad guys.”
“Yeah, he made it sound like June killed that Fiver in the Iron Cage for fun and that he was a completely innocent man. He also insinuated that Nico raped Leticia.”
“No doubt he also said Leticia fled town to get away from Nico.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t even know she left.”
“More like she was dragged away. She and Nico kept trying to contact each other, and it was going to get them killed. My guess is Bowie has her locked up somewhere in another state because he hates the idea of her sleeping with a Saint.”
“Well, according to him, you lot are murderous psychopaths out killing innocent people.”
“What did you say when he told you all of that?”
“I acted outraged and hurt. Like June would never do that. But I may have suggested I wasn’t as confident in her innocence as I seemed. I needed it to look like I’m firmly on June’s side, even if what he was saying gave me doubts.”
He gives a little hum of acknowledgement. “Impressive. You really are quite the twisted trickster, you know that? I’m going to start calling you my funky little monkey.”
“You did not just quote a Nickelback song to me.”
“You’re the one who recognized it. Besides, don’t you like references?”
“Not Nickelback ones, Jesus Christ.”
“What’s wrong with Nickelback?”
I laugh, giving him a quick grin before looking back to the road, silence stretching between us.
James waits for me to break it, one elbow resting against the car door.
I glance down at the hand resting in his lap, studying protruding veins, slightly bruised knuckles, and a small cut on his thumb.
I wonder when the last time his hands were completely free of blemishes was.
Although I have to admit, as much as I don’t like the idea of him getting hurt, the bruises, cuts, and scars all over his body are seriously sexy.
“Honestly, most of what he said was obvious bullshit,” I say. “It wasn’t until the end that his facade broke.”
“What happened?”
Rolling my lips together, I try to remember Bowie’s exact words. “I accused him of being scared, and he said he was angry. He said this isn’t the first time the Saints have tried to infiltrate the South Five with one of your own to hurt his family.”
“Tricking women in the enemy’s bed to gather secrets is his style, not ours.”
“That was the only time he didn’t sound like he was lying or putting on a show.
He said if I wanted to know the truth about June and the Saints, I should ask you about the last time you, and I quote, ‘sent one of your whores into his home.’ He said you guys broke some sort of truce eight years ago. ”
“Eight years ago? That’s when Dad was still president.”
“He also said that you went after children first and told me to remind you what happens when you try to attack him. He implied that none of you will care about me and would gladly let me die.”
“You’re not fucking dying.”
“I’m aware.” I smirk and lick my lips, desire slowly returning as we get closer to my apartment.
James senses the change in my mood, and his hand returns to my leg.
This time, it slides higher, reaching the bend at my waist. My breaths grow shallow as his long fingers travel inward between my thighs.
I may be wearing nice slacks and a thong, but I swear I feel his touch directly on my pussy.
He presses down harder than I expected, and my hips rise off the seat in time with the gasp falling from my lips.
Then his touch is gone.
“What—” I look to my right to see him lounging in his seat without a care in the world. The hand that was between my legs is now under his nose, like he can smell my desire for him without touching me.
“Don’t want you to crash,” he says.
“I won’t crash.” I know I’m begging, and that it might be pathetic, but I don’t care. James has talented hands, and I would give almost anything to have them on me at all times.
“You’re right, you won’t. Because all your focus is going to be on the road until we’re locked into your apartment where nothing can interrupt us.”
The dark promise in his voice has me pressing down harder on the gas, and his answering chuckle sends a shiver down my back.