11. Ellis
ELEVEN
ELLIS
I regret asking her back to my place the second I pull into traffic. Something about seeing her so scared, so vulnerable has me softening toward her in a way I’m not quite sure I like.
I mean, who in their right mind sympathizes with Satan.
But, fuck. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel. How could anyone not feel for her given what she’s going through? I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.
It doesn’t help that my traitorous brain keeps reminding me of how good she felt in my arms.
“Just stick to the facts and convince her to file a report,” I mutter, flicking on my blinker as my driveway comes into view.
A cloud of dust obscures her from my view as I creep down the unpaved path. I can already hear her whining about how dirty her car is. But that’s life down a dirt road.
I pull to a stop in front of my house and throw it in park, waiting a beat before exiting.
Sure enough, Scarlet pulls in behind me and makes a big show of coughing when she steps out. “Well, that’s just great. Guess I can add the carwash to my to-do list.”
“Called it,” I murmur, my lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk.
“Called what?” She throws her hands on her hips as she narrows her eyes.
“You complaining about the dirt.”
She rolls her eyes. “Did you ask me here to actually talk or just to talk shit?”
I shrug as I pivot on my heel, intentionally kicking up a little more dust as I head for the door. “Why can’t it be both?”
“I swear to god, Officer—”
“Jackass,” I cut her off. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon inside, Princess.”
She huffs her displeasure but follows behind me all the same. “Leave your shoes by the door,” I tell her, toeing off my sneakers.
“Oh.” She kicks off her sandals. “Wow.”
“What?” I ask, trying to take in my space from her eyes.
“It’s… nice.” She tilts her head, staring up at me like she expects an explanation.
“And that’s a problem why?”
“Not a problem.” She ventures deeper into the living room. “Just unexpected.”
“Unexpected for a man to have a clean and well-decorated home?”
“Yes.” She nods. “Most of the guy’s places I’ve been to look like stereotypical bachelor pads. Yours looks like… a home.”
“Sounds like you have shit taste in men.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She laughs under her breath. “Now, are we going to talk or what?”
“Sure.” I nod toward the couch.
She plops down without hesitation, tucking her feet beneath her. She looks small curled up in the corner of my sectional, and some twisted part of me likes seeing her in my space.
I knew this was a bad idea.
“Let’s start with why you lied to Atlas and Nora,” she says the second my ass hits the cushion.
“Because,” I start and then pause, taking a minute to really think about why I lied, because if I’m being honest, I didn’t plan on it.
The words toppled out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“The last thing they need is to worry about all of this. They have enough going on between Nora’s trauma, James's first birthday, and their wedding.
I don't want to add this to their already overflowing plate.”
She stares me down so hard that I think she’s going to call me on my bullshit—which every word of that was. Because the truth is I lied to shield Nora from Atlas’s reaction. He’s not exactly known for being rational when it comes to Nora’s safety.
After a minute or two, she exhales and sinks deeper into the couch. “I guess that's fair.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Okay, great. Glad we agree.” I stretch my arms along the back of the couch. “Now let's talk about when you're gonna file a police report.”
“Do you really think anything will come of it?”
“Do I think the cops are gonna go out and hunt this guy down and find him? No. Do I think it's important to have a matter of record of it so that if he escalates? Or you somehow find out his identity? Absolutely.”
She tucks her hands between her legs and blinks up at me. “Will… will you come with me?”
My entire body freezes as I think about returning to the police department. I didn't leave on bad terms exactly, but damn sure not the best either. But if my presence is what gets her to the station to file, then I guess I'm going with her. “Yeah, Princess, I will.”
“Thank you.” She launches herself at me like a rocket, her knees bracketing my lap as she flings her arms around my neck. “So, so much.”
“Whoa.” I brace her with one hand on her hip and the other around her waist. “You’re, uh...” My hand flexes on her hip as I fight the urge to pull her closer. “You’re welcome.”
I groan when she tangles her fingers in the hair at the nape of my neck and she freezes in place, her cheeks lighting up brighter than an open sign
“Oh my god.” She scrambles off my lap and throws herself down onto the far end of the couch. “I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me.”
“No worries,” I assure her with a calmness I’m absolutely not feeling. “Heightened emotions and shit.”
“Yes, yeah.” She nods vigorously. “That.”
“So, ready to head down to the station?” I ask, desperate to talk about anything else.
“Not really.” She deflates like a popped balloon. “But sure.”
“Good choice.” I pop up from the couch. “No time like the present, Princess.”
I’ve been off kilter since yesterday, and while I’m not willing to cop to Scarlet being the cause, I’m not full-on denying it either.
But sometime between yesterday and today, I don’t know if it was waking up wrapped around Scarlet, learning just how serious her stalker situation is, or going with her to report it, but I feel like my world’s been tipped off its axis and I don’t fucking like it. Not one bit.
So, naturally, I’m meeting Silas today for an official interview.
“Put her out of your head,” I tell myself as I check my reflection in my rearview mirror, hating the worried crease that’s made itself a permanent home on my forehead. “Her, your old job, all of it. Focus on the here and now, get through your interview, and spiral later, man.”
I kill the engine and suck in a fortifying breath before heading into Buns Out—our local burger joint. I was relieved when Silas suggested meeting here for our interview. It’s lowkey, and the food is good as fuck.
He also said this interview was just a formality and that my employment with Guardians of Fortune was all but a done deal. Which definitely takes some of the pressure off, even if the job itself will be high pressure.
Inside, my eyes immediately fly to his big ass sitting in the back corner, glaring at everyone like an angry bear.
“Welcome to Buns Out,” a smiling employee says as I walk in, handing me a menu. “Specials are on the board. Order at the counter whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.” I accept the menu even though I already know exactly what I’m getting. A double cheeseburger with smoked cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, fried onions, tangy barbeque sauce, and a splash of ranch—otherwise known as the pitmaster.
Silas clocks me instantaneously, sending a nod my way. I tip my chin my head toward the counter, letting him know I’ll be over after I order.
“Ellis,” he says as I slide into the booth across from him. He makes a big show of checking his watch. “Right on time.”
“I'm actually early.”
He smirks. “Like I said, right on time.”
“One of those, huh?” I ask, drumming my fingers against my thigh under the table and hoping like hell Silas isn’t a closet douche.
My old sergeant was also a stickler for shit like this.
I could do every damn thing by the book, and he would find something wrong.
Guaranteed he’d nitpick every thread until he tugged something loose.
Every single time. And while I damn sure want to help people, I don’t want to do it under someone like him.
“Nah, man.” He cracks a grin. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“Jackass,” I cough the word, sending his grin into a full-blown smile. “Okay, talk to me, man. Tell me a little bit more about you, your mission, and about this job.”
He steeples his fingers beneath his chin. “Pretty simple. I’m patched in with a local club. We look out for the citizens of Lake Fortune. We're expanding the operation—”
“And just to be clear,” I interrupt, “I don't have to pledge or some shit to work for y’all, right? No offense of anything.”
Silas pauses when an employee stops by, delivering both of our meals. We both thank them, and he jumps back in, talking around a massive bite. “It's preferred, but not required.”
“And y’all aren’t like…”
“Outlaws?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement, most definitely at my expense
I nod, feeling dumb for even asking.
“Nope.” He pops another bite in his mouth. “We’re aboveboard.”
“Okay, good to know.” I mop up some of the sauce spilling out the side of my burger with a fry before popping it into my mouth. “Tell me about the kind of gigs you take on.”
He launches into his spiel, talking about protecting victims of abuse, providing security for local charity events pro bono, along with private security for businesses, events, and individuals.”
All in all, it feels like a good fit. And I tell him as much.
“Great. When can you start?”
I rear back, nearly choking on my last bite of burger. “You don't need to run a background check or have me, I don’t know, actually fill out an application?”
He laughs, deep and booming. “You think I asked you without pulling your background check? Be for fucking real, Wilder. Your ass is squeaky clean.”
A small part of me feels guilty at his squeaky-clean assessment. Which is wild, because under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t feel even a shred of guilt. Randall Wallace got what he deserved tenfold. And, technically, I’m not the one who pulled the trigger.
“Right. Okay.”
“Also, get with the times, E. The paperwork is digital. Text me your email and I’ll send it over.”
I slide my phone from my pocket and fire off a text. “Start date?” I ask once it’s sent.
“How’s next week sound?”
“Works for me.”
“Glad to hear it. Any other questions?”
“Loads. Hours? I'm assuming it's not a nine to five. Pay? Benefits?”
“I’ll include it all in the email, and you can let me know if you have any questions.”
“Got it.” Unbidden, Scarlet pops into my head. “Hey, while we’re here, let me run something by you…”
He raises a brow, clearly intrigued. “Go on…”
“I’ve got this… friend.” The word tastes strange on my tongue. “And I think she’s in some real trouble.”
“Your friend happen to be the same one from The Creek?”
I slump back against the booth, which is apparently all the confirmation he needs.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s got a stalker.” I lay it all out there for him. The letters, the surveilling, the threats. “We filed a police report yesterday, but I… I don’t know, man. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“We, huh?” Silas asks, grinning. Who the fuck grins after hearing something like that? “Sounds like security detail for your girl is a great first gig with us.”
“Two problems.” I hold up my index finger. “One, she’s not my girl.” I add my middle finger, pointing them both his way. “And two, she hasn’t hired you.”
“Not yet,” is all he says.
“Not yet to what?”
“All of it, man. All of it.”