Chapter 4
Kaden was the one who told me about Bailey’s plan. My first thought? Absolutely bloody not. My brain latched onto the information, sending me into full protection mode. That’s why I fear this girl.
When he mentioned the date part, something in me clenched so hard, I thought my insides would snap. I didn’t let him finish—I barged right into the girls’ shared room, and there she was, looking so fucking tempting for someone else. A date. Black spots erupted in front of my eyes. We have a bloody deal, and yet she has the audacity to still go on a date. Mission or no fucking mission, there should be clear boundaries.
I sound like I’m jealous. No, that can’t fucking be. She annoys me to the point where I am losing my mind.
She has no damn time to take daily defense lessons, but she has time to go on a date with a motherfucker who might work for Felix?
My friends and I are in the living room. I lean against the wall next to the window, staring outside as if she’ll materialize in front of my eyes any moment. “Why the fuck are we still here?”
“Because we have to wait until she’s there,” Kaden reminds me.
“What if he’s not a mole?” Abi looks straight at me. “She deserves to have someone who likes her and takes her out on dates.” There’s a challenge there. Barbie pisses me off when she smirks, pleased with whatever she sees on my face.
“I didn’t agree.”
Incredulity flashes in Celine’s eyes. “Are we voting on this?” When the group can’t agree, we vote on it. It has to be unanimous, though, so either way, I won’t get the desired result.
“Come on, Hunter. Be reasonable. She knows what she’s doing,” my twin says.
Yeah, behind a screen. It was my mistake. I was too soft on her training, but that ends now. If she wants to take such reckless risks, then she’s going to prove herself to me in training. Maybe then I can think straight again because right now, it’s like I am powder keg that will ignite at any moment.
“I’m going there.”
Dane shrugs. “I’d do the same.” Finally, someone who isn’t a hypocrite.
“Then let’s fucking go,” Blake says.
At least I have these two on my side.
Each couple is tasked with supervising the entry and the back of the diner. Abigail and Dane make out on a bench nearby to keep up appearances, and I stride inside.
I crack my neck and take a deep breath. In the farthest booth, I spot the asshole smiling at her. I came here just to observe, but screw that.
Bailey scrunches her nose, sipping from that greenish beverage. Without thinking, I order a strawberry mocktail. From experience, I know she only drinks alcohol when I piss her off. Otherwise, it’s always something sweet.
As I approach them, Bailey’s eyes meet mine and her back stiffens.
“Such a coincidence,” I grin. She rolls her eyes at me, but then they lower to my hand. A small smile curls up the corners of her mouth, doing the strangest things to me. She knows full well I don’t drink these sugary things.
“Man, would you mind? We’re on a date,” the asshole grumbles, but it comes out more like a whine.
It’s that word again, implying there’s more going on that pushes me over the edge.
“Did you order for her?”
“Of course. A man does that.”
I stare him down. “A real man keeps his mouth shut and learns what his woman wants first.” Then, I place the strawberry mocktail in front of her and pour the other drink right at his feet.
He screeches, the sound grating on my last nerve, yet his eyes promise retribution. I wish he’d stand up so I could punch him and send him flying through the window and straight into the hospital.
“Hunter, please,” Bailey says softly.
I inhale deeply, grasping for control—for her.
Bailey takes a sip, murmuring a quiet “mm-hmm.” That sound does things to me—all leading into dangerous territory. I pick up her glass, placing my lips where hers just were. The taste of strawberry invades my taste buds. I bet she tastes like one—all sweet, ripe, and tempting to sink my teeth into.
I have no idea where this urge came from, but satisfaction pumps through me when I witness the displeased look on the prick’s face.
“Would you excuse us for a moment?” she asks him, giving me a hard look.
“After you.” I gesture for her to lead the way. She could have chosen to go outside. Instead, she pushes me toward the bathrooms. It’s darker here, hiding us from prying eyes.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “What’s wrong with you?”
“We both know what that is,” I snap.
“Cryptic as always.”
Bailey has a few freckles splattered across her nose and cheeks like a small constellation—twelve, to be exact. As she tilts her head, watching something intently, I can’t help but notice how adorably cute they are.
“That asshole. I knew it,” she mutters.
“What?” I turn to see what she’s looking at. Eric grabs her phone, his fingers flying over the screen.
“Now we know. Let me take care of him quickly,” I offer, eager to unleash my pent-up anger on him.
At first, I was angry because he took her on a date, but now I am even more furious that he’s using her. It will be a pleasure to dismantle him.
“No. I’ll finish this date and do whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” my voice drops so low she gulps, aware she messed up.
“Stop repeating what I say.”
“Then stop spewing nonsense.”
She opens her mouth, but I back her into the wall, my palms resting on each side of her face. Never in my life have I felt this need to touch someone.
“I dare you to tell me what ‘whatever it takes’ actually entails.”
She tips her chin up, those crystalline eyes of hers boring into me. “I really don’t understand you.”
That makes two of us.
“Tell me, Bailey, if we’re doing whatever it takes, you wouldn’t mind me fucking my way to get information?”
“No,” she stammers. The little liar. “I have to go back.”
“You won’t end it?”
“No, because we need to be a step ahead of them. This is what we wanted, Hunter.”
I know she’s right, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
My arms fall to my sides, and I jerk my chin toward Eric. Bailey hesitates, an unsure look on her face, before she walks back to the booth, leaving me with that strange tightness in my chest.
While I don’t return to their table, I stay at the bar and order a glass of whiskey. That guy just won’t shut up. Who would want to hear his own voice when Bailey’s is so soft and melodic?
A girl slides onto the seat next to me. This is getting boring—fast. But girls approaching me is how I’ve kept up my playboy reputation, helping me keep my demons hidden.
Bailey notices her. A smirk arches the corners of my lips as Bailey glares at me, then shifts her attention back to Eric.
“Hi, I’m Sasha,” she says, and I turn my gaze to her. Brown hair, full lips, eyes with a playful spark. I am not interested at all, but Bailey pissed me off by not going home and just letting me take care of the fucker. So, I pretend to give Sasha all my attention.
It doesn’t take long before the small talk moves into flirtatious territory. She inches toward me, and just the thought of her touching me sends a shudder down my spine. I inch away, putting a little more distance between us, all so stealthily done that no one would notice. I’ve perfected the move over time. Taking her up on her offer would be so easy, but I know exactly what would happen. Bile would rise in my throat, memories of Alice’s nails digging into my skin and calling me a “good boy” while I’d try to fuck this girl to drown out my past. Looking back, every sexual encounter has been the same—a struggle to stay afloat.
Bailey meets my eyes, wrenching me back from that nightmare and into the present. Fire blazes in her aquamarine eyes, lighting me up. I pretend to flirt with Sasha, and Bailey cocks a brow in challenge.
Placing her palms on her cheeks, she laughs at whatever the wanker says. He’s not that funny, is he? Is she delusional, flirting with the enemy like this? She has zero self-preservation instincts. No wonder I am constantly on edge with her, feeling the need to keep her ass alive.
“So, are you with someone?” Sasha asks.
I open my mouth to say no, but strangely, what comes out is, “It’s complicated.”
She sighs. “I know all about complicated.”
Relationships are so messy. I have no idea why people still bother with them.
She rolls her bottom lip through her teeth, innuendo clear in her words. “You look like someone who could take my mind off things for a night.”
That’s the other thing that is starting to frustrate me. Girls take one look at me and decide I am only good for one thing and for one night. Sure, I am emotionally unavailable, but that has nothing to do with being a fuckboy. Yet, once you get a label, it’s like carrying an invisible stamp you can’t shake.
I am still nursing my drink when I check my phone, seeing it’s been half an hour.
I’ve heard all about this girl’s cheating boyfriend, but she is afraid to be alone, so she will probably take him back. Bailey hasn’t looked in my direction for a while. I don’t bloody like that. In my mind, I have strangled the life out of the asshole who has her attention a thousand times over.
It’s a mission, but damn, she’s good at pretending. She has to be pretending—it’s the only thing keeping me in place right now.
That pang of hurt hits again. She pretended with me too. Seeing her all soft, delicate, and dainty, like some fragile flower, bothered me. Here she was, a complete stranger, stirring something protective in me, something that took Celine much longer to do. The first time I saw Bailey, she reminded me of Celine—innocent, too good to be true—yet I treated Celine worse until she learned how to fight.
When Bailey finally stands up, she passes by, shooting daggers at me. I smile smugly at her, staying planted in my chair.
I stay half an hour longer to mess with her. I can’t believe I am this petty, fully aware she’ll be stewing over it. She makes me so unhinged that I fear losing control over myself.
I need a moment to get a grip before returning to the house. Me being soft on her ends right now.
She wants to live dangerously? I’ll make sure she’s ready for it.