Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Sitting down, I lean elbows on the table and bury my head in my hands, needing a minute to comprehend what just happened because…holy shit. That really happened.
Hendrix doesn’t seem to have that problem. Resting back in the chair, he steals the untouched beer I left on the table and takes a swig. “For domestic, this is pretty good.”
Placing my hands in my lap under the table to stop myself from punching him, I ask the obvious question. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“According to most people, a hell of a lot.”
His cavalier attitude only pisses me off more.
Does he not understand the ramifications of what just transpired?
Tristan and I are finally in a good place.
I have a nephew I would lay down my life for.
I found a family. And even though I know I can never have Syn in the way I desperately want, at least I have her in my life as my friend.
And now I’m going to lose everything because of his little stunt.
“This isn’t a joke.”
His aqua eyes turn arctic. “I’m not joking. Syn is nothing if not stubborn. She needed a push.”
“Not off a fucking cliff with me chained to her ankle!”
He has the audacity to laugh. “And Tristan says I’m the drama queen.”
“What you are is a huge asshole.”
“Who you should be thanking.”
Thanking him is the last thing I should be doing right now. Syn is never going to want to be in the same room with me, let alone talk to me again.
“Ass. Hole.”
The bastard grins.
Shelby knocks into a table on her way past and almost drops the tray she’s carrying. “Sorry,” she mumbles and hurries on by.
Knowing she walked in and saw us just adds more bricks to my wall of anger. Syn cherishes her friendship with Shelby, and it would gut me if that changed.
I tear my sights away from Syn, who is very obviously doing her best to ignore our existence as she works the other tables. “I think it’s best to finish this conversation outside.”
“By all means.”
I don’t wait for him to follow. As soon as I get out front, I round the corner to the alleyway. Shallow puddles on the black tarmac reflect the yellow lights from the buildings on either side as a slow, misty drizzle falls. The dreary weather fits my current mood.
I stop when I get to the back service door of the Bierkeller. Immediately spotting it, I run the pad of my forefinger over the small hole still visible in the brickwork. This is where Cillian’s man accidentally shot her, the bullet grazing her shoulder. He was aiming for Tristan.
This is also where I met up with Syn that night. I can still feel the sharp blade of the knife she held to my throat and see the shock on her face when I told her about the marriage contract.
The faint echo of footsteps comes up the alley. “I don’t get why—”
The rest of Hendrix’s sentence gets swallowed by my fist when I deck him.
Stumbling backward a few feet, he swipes at the blood pouring out of his nose. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Do not ever put Syn in that position again. She is your wife, not a toy to play your twisted sex games with, and you will treat her with some goddamn respect!”
Tipping his head, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “First. You ever hit me again, and I’m going to make sure you spend the next month in a hospital sucking liquid food out of a tube. Second, that woman is my entire world. I wouldn’t make her do anything that she didn’t want.”
“She didn’t want that!” I shout, tempted to punch him again.
A severe scowl mars his expression. “You clearly missed the part where I asked her, and she said yes.”
My mouth operates on a spring-loaded hinge, falling open, then snapping closed. “She did not.”
He draws a cross over his chest, then mimes slitting his throat. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Trying to recall every detail, my mind struggles to remember what was said. Probably because I was hyper focused on her. The way her body responded to Hendrix’s touch. The magnificent way she shattered when she climaxed.
Bending over at the waist, he presses on one nostril and blows a wad of bloody snot out of the other. “I think you broke it.”
“Who’s being the drama queen now?”
He slumps back against the brick of the opposite building. The mist begins to taper, leaving behind a haze of low-lying fog that clouds the alleyway like smoke.
Something he said earlier jumps out at me. “How did you know about the cameras?”
Raking a hand through his slightly damp hair, Hendrix scoffs. “Please, fucker. You’re not the only one who knows how to hack into security feeds.”
Fucking Constantine. They’ve probably been spying on me at the same time I’ve been spying on them.
“So, voyeurism kink, huh? You’ll love the Red Room. Lots of stuff going on behind the glass.”
I can’t tell if he’s being serious or not.
“No, thank you.” Watching Syn is one thing.
That other crap he’s into…hell no. Crossing my arms to stop my fingers from fidgeting, I point out the obvious.
“Why are you so fucking eager to share her with someone you’ve actively despised since we were six years old? ”
It’s like dangling a slice of decadent chocolate cake in front of a starving man. He knows how much I want her.
Hendrix chews on the inside of his lip. “Let’s get one thing straight. I am not ‘sharing’ Syn with another man,” he says, using finger quotes. “And I don’t hate you.”
This time, it’s my turn to scoff. “Yes, you do.”
This entire conversation…hell, this entire evening…feels like I’ve fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole, then wound up in the Upside Down from Stranger Things where everything is the same but confusingly different.
He blows out a breath and shrugs. “Fine. I don’t hate you now. You’re kind of cool to be around when you don’t have that giant stick shoved up your ass that turns you into a pompous twit.” He pushes off the wall and shakes the water from his hair. “I never did thank you.”
“For what?”
Another shrug. “For a lot of things. For stopping Michael’s men from getting to the farmhouse. For saving Tristan. For always protecting Syn. I get it, you know.”
“Clearly, I don’t,” I reply, at a loss because he actually sounds sincere.
“What she sees in you.”
The air in the alleyway solidifies like thick cement, making it impossible to breathe. “What she sees in me is a friend. Nothing more. And it’s a friendship I’d like to keep. So, I’d appreciate if you didn’t pull another stunt like you did tonight.”
Hendrix gets in the final word as I walk away. “If that’s what she wants. But it’s not.”