7. June #2
“Yes. Without a doubt.” Simon gets up from the table to walk a few feet over to the food truck to get our order as it comes available.
He returns a second later, never having actually taken his eyes off me the whole time he left my immediate presence.
“But that’s their nature. They can’t tell you everything. ”
“They don’t tell me anything.” I pull a few napkins out of the holder and give a couple to Simon and keep the rest for myself.
“What do you want them to do? Come home from a long day of torturing people and be like, hey honey, killed that traitor from the second division today. Might bust another guy’s kneecaps in front of his family tomorrow if you want to come watch.
” Simon takes a bite of his taco, some of the filling falling onto the other taco in his basket.
“I mean, no, not specifically that, but that would be better than nothing. I get the silent treatment at best. Even Magnus is vague as fuck, and he used to be the one who includes me in everything.” I poke at the food in front of me but pull my hand away when I notice a faint bruise forming from where Simon had pulled me from the street just a little bit ago.
“If it makes you feel better, they don’t tell me shit either.” Simon wipes at his mouth with his napkin and points to my uneaten food. “I’ll force-feed you if I have to.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.” He nudges the basket toward me. “Don’t make me have to come over there.”
I take a bite of the taco to comply with his demands, the flavors melting into my mouth and reminding me of the appetite I once had earlier. "These are better than the last ones we got from here."
“Carne asada,” Simon tells me.
I’ve eaten more meals with this man than I have my own boyfriends.
Not just lately, but in general. If you don’t count sleeping hours, Simon and I have spent more time together, too.
He’s their enemy, which makes him my enemy, but somehow, he’s become my most trusted ally.
The one person who I can actually count on being there if I need him.
There really is something to be said about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.
I can’t imagine this is what the guys wanted, or even anticipated, but what did they expect when they pushed me away and into the arms of this man who would do anything for me?
I would never act on it, or betray our relationship, but it does make me question who cares for me more—my men, or their enemy?
“So, you have no idea what’s been keeping them extra occupied lately?” I eat more of the food and hope that Simon has some kind of information he’s willing to give me.
He pops the rest of his taco into his mouth, chews, and swallows it before speaking. "There's been some shipment issues. I'm guessing they're navigating that."
I nod like I have any clue what that might entail. “Isn’t that something the logistics department should handle?”
“That’s not how these things work. Not on this scale. There were casualties. And the product wasn’t stolen, it was destroyed, like a message was being sent.” Simon tells me more than I bargained for, and I’m grateful for every word of it.
"What kind of message?" I try to get as much out of him as possible until he realizes he's sharing details they probably don't want me to know.
“A threat of some kind maybe. Probably one of the rival factions testing Dom’s new authority, see if he has the chops to handle the situation.”
“And does he?” I ask the question even though I know the answer. Of course Dominic is more than qualified to handle whatever is thrown at him.
“That’s why he has the job and not me.”
“You conceded,” I remind him. “My dying wish, remember?”
Simon’s pretty face tenses. “I’d rather forget if I’m being honest.”
“Ah, losing hurt that bad?” I tease him.
But he doesn't take the joke, instead, he stares directly at me. "Losing you, yeah."
A chill rolls down my spine, and my heart pounds harder at the intensity of those emerald eyes of his. “Well, here I am.” I try to make light of the situation. “Looks like you got what you wanted after all.”
“Not yet.” Simon winks at me and turns his attention back to his food. That feisty version of him returning and masking the vulnerable version he doesn’t let out often. “I said I’d wait forever if I had to. It’s only been a few months.”
But it’s been longer than that, more than half a year.
And soon enough, it’ll be a full year, and at this rate, it’ll turn into two, or three.
Who knows how long the guys will insist that Simon watch over me.
Maybe long enough for them to figure out how to get rid of me without having to carry the guilt of it.
Maybe their plan all along was to get me to fall for Simon and then make this look like it was my fault.