Chapter 11
Baddy stayed away from the diner for a full week.
He told himself it was the right thing to do. Lydia needed space to settle in and get used to the job. She didn't need him hovering over her like some kind of guard dog. She needed room to breathe. Room to figure out her own footing.
But every day that passed, he caught himself wondering how she was doing. If she was eating. If she was sleeping. If she was still looking over her shoulder for Sonny.
There were times he wondered if she'd sneak back to Cusclan. Maybe he read the situation wrong, and she wanted to belong to them. But then he reminded himself that Patty would contact him if she ended up missing.
He believed that Lydia was more afraid of Cusclan than him.
She had a right to be concerned. Cusclan Motorcycle Club was dangerous.
That's why he kept a close eye on who traveled the street in front of the clubhouse and who was parked in front of the diner during open hours.
He expected blowback from buying Sonny's property.
Duke wandered into the clubhouse, helmet in hand, and approached him. "You wanna grab dinner at Patty's?"
"Yeah," he said, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."
Maybe Duke gave him an excuse to see Lydia.
Duke grinned. "Didn't think you'd be hungry."
"I'm not."
Duke gave him a look but didn't push.
They rode the short stretch down the street, engines rumbling in sync. The diner's neon sign flickered in the dusk, casting a warm glow across the parking lot. The place closed at seven o'clock. Baddy parked beside Duke and killed the engine, the sudden quiet ringing in his ears.
He wasn't there for food.
He was here to see Lydia.
Inside, the diner bustled with the usual Friday-dinner crowd. Families sat in booths while the truckers sat at the counter. Patty barked orders like a drill sergeant, making sure things continued moving so she could lock the door at seven. The smell of fried onions and fresh coffee hit him hard.
He scanned the room before he even looked for a place to sit.
And there she was.
Lydia moved between tables with a tray balanced on one hand, hair pulled back, apron tied tight around her waist, covering her skimpy shorts.
She shifted, giving her back to him. His gut tightened, expecting a punch.
And there it was, her tight ass, framed beautifully in a pair of cutoffs with diamond-shaped hearts on each pocket.
He dragged his gaze down her legs and back up in time for her to turn again. The wrinkled brow was gone. The scowl was missing.
She smiled at a customer, and the pressure in Baddy's chest eased. That was a genuine expression. She was happy.
Duke elbowed him. "You gonna sit or stare at the new girl all night?"
Baddy motioned for him to find them a place. Duke walked to an empty booth at the back window, near the kitchen, and slid into the seat. Baddy followed, sitting where he had a clear view of the diner. He didn't call out to her. Didn't wave. Didn't want to distract her.
He just watched.
Watched her move confidently between tables.
Watched her handle a rude customer with a calm voice and a steady hand.
Watched her tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear when she thought no one was looking.
She hadn't seen him yet.
And he wasn't sure if he wanted her to.
He wasn't here to interfere. He wasn't there to drag her back into his world. All he wanted to do was see if she was okay.
That she was safe.
That she was building something that didn't involve Sonny or Cusclan or fear.
While Kodiak hadn't forced him to drill Lydia about what she knew regarding the deal Royalla had struck with Cusclan, he was aware that she had to know. She was brought to two meetings. Even if she couldn't hear every little detail, she knew too much.
That was enough to get men killed and the whole club thrown into prison. It only took one rat to go to the police to destroy everyone's life and destroy Royalla.
Patty slid two menus onto the table. "You boys eating or ogling my employees?"
"Coffee," Baddy said.
"Burger and fries," Duke added. "You hire the prettiest girls around Vancouver."
"Of course, I do." Patty patted Duke's cheek. "That's the difference between a smart business owner and one that goes bankrupt."
Duke chuckled, and Patty walked off. Baddy leaned back in the booth, arms crossed, eyes drifting back to Lydia.
Yeah.
She was doing fine.
His mood settled. He'd done something good. His lifestyle was hard and unforgiving. There wasn't much chance to help others when all his energy was spent trying to keep his ass out of prison.
A moment later, Lydia approached with a coffee pot in hand. She didn't see him at first as she was focused on the table, on the cups, on not spilling. When she finally looked up, her breath hitched slightly.
"Coffee?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said, voice low.
She leaned in front of him as she poured. Her hand trembled.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
She kept her eyes on the cup. "Good. The job's working out well."
Her voice was steady, but her fingers weren't.
His gaze went to the front of her shirt. It was scooped, showing a lot of cleavage. "And your room?"
"It's fine."
Short answers. Too short. Like she'd practiced them, or she was lying.
Before he could push, someone at a booth called her name. She flinched and turned toward the sound.
"I'll be right back," she said, already moving.
He watched her weave through the tables, smile at customers, and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looked efficient. It was obviously not her first waitress job. She was doing everything right.
So why did something feel off?
Her answers were exactly what he wanted to hear. She had a job. A place to sleep. Food. Safety. Everything she'd said she needed.
But the tremor in her hands.
The stiffness in her shoulders.
The way she refused to meet his eyes.
Something wasn't right.
Duke nudged him with his boot under the table. "You gonna stare at her like a predator?"
Baddy didn't look away from Lydia.
"Shut the fuck up," he muttered.
Because he wasn't staring.
He was studying.
Trying to figure out what she wasn't saying.
Trying to figure out why the hell his gut told him something was wrong.