Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Decker
K rew was quiet; a quick glance at him again and I was mesmerized.
He was sleeping. His eyes were shut and he was breathing evenly.
Even in the darkness of the cab, I could see the circles under his eyes, and the bruises on his jawline—fresh ones.
Ones I hadn’t seen a few hours earlier on that street corner in Chicago. Still, he was beautiful.
Yet… those bruises.
He hadn’t fought tonight—my bullet through Kane’s forehead had seen to that. Instinctively I knew who put those bruises on Krew.
Teke. That motherfucker.
Now that I had Krew with me, I’d make sure that bastard kept his hands to himself. Or he’d see what I was capable of.
I wanted to reach out and touch Krew’s face, but I held back. I didn’t want to wake him.
Studying his profile, I recalled Krew’s questions—lots of them. However, I couldn’t conjure up a single word.
Where have I been? What have I been doing? Why didn’t I reach out to him? They were all legit questions, but I had no idea how to respond. How to give him the answers he deserved to hear—or how much of my past, which was no picnic, I should reveal.
At the next red light, I pulled out the burner phone from my pocket, brought up the message app and sent a text to my handler.
Me: Need a week off.
I didn’t get an immediate reply, yet I wasn’t concerned. Sabrina would eventually respond. And as the light turned green, she texted back.
Sabrina: Should I be worried—scratch that. Okay , bossman.
I quietly chuckled and placed the phone in one of the cup holders in the middle console and drove in silence.
I drove until I found a parking spot about half a block down from the diner. It was a precautionary tactic I’d learned from a retired hitman.
I had befriended Merrick Gentry while we served together in the military.
After all the bullshit I got caught up in, I barely managed to get out with an honorable discharge.
Merrick approached me soon after with a career opportunity —as a hitman.
Thinking about his job proposal still made me chuckle.
Now Merrick was retired, and I haven’t looked back on my decision once.
“Wake up. We’re here,” I said softly, shaking Krew’s arm. He slowly came to, his intriguing eyes glazed with sleep but no less beautiful.
“Okay,” he said with a yawn, stretching his arms out, as he looked through the windshield.
I got out, tucked my Ruger inside a pocket of my hoodie, and walked around to the passenger door and opened it. “Why don’t you put the gun in your duffle?”
Krew’s eyebrows drew into a vee and he studied me for a long minute, then did as I suggested before he slid out and closed the door. I locked the truck and headed toward the diner. Krew fell into step beside me.
I pulled open the diner door and motioned him to walk through first. He glanced at me with a strange expression before entering the place.
Christ, I needed to stop treating him like he was mine. Krew wasn’t. Not anymore. We were here to talk, catch up, and then go our separate ways. Leave him for good.
As I crossed the threshold, I automatically scanned the interior. The diner was nearly deserted at this time of night—or morning. There was only one other patron, and he sat in the booth closest to the door.
The smell… it had hit me as I entered. Greasy fried foods, strong black coffee, and the too-sweet doughnuts and desserts—the aromas mingled and I took a good inhale. My stomach growled.
When was the last time I ate?
Krew gave me another strange glance over his shoulder before he turned his attention to the short, rail-thin, fifty-something waitress heading our way.
In cropped jeans, a tight t-shirt with the diner’s logo stretched across her ample chest, and heavily lined eyes, her attempt to look younger was a sad failure.
She approached us both with a huge smile, her breasts jutted out, but her eyes were only on Krew.
“Sit wherever you like, handsome,” she greeted, her husky voice filled with appreciation as her eyes roved over Krew’s body like she had every right to.
I wanted to pull out my knife and dig her eyes out for staring at my?—
Jesus. Fucking get a grip .
“Right here is fine. Thanks,” Krew said as he pointed to the nearest booth and slid onto the bench facing the back of the diner.
I sat across from him, my eyes pinned the waitress like she was a bug. She ignored me, and passed the two menus to Krew.
“What would you like to drink, sweetie?” the waitress asked as she purposefully stepped closer to Krew’s side of the booth as if I wasn’t even there.
A low growl seeped pass my lips, like I was some damn protective animal. She finally glanced at me, but her mouth stayed shut.
Then Krew’s warm hand covered mine, shifting my attention to him. He turned my palm up and entwined our fingers, blatantly displaying where he stood with me, and to the waitress.
A small smile slid across his face, and there was desire in his eyes. I wanted to reach over, clasp my hand around the back of his neck and pull him in for a kiss. Show him what he’d been missing all these years.
“How about two coffees, and we need a minute to decide on the food,” Krew said to the waitress.
“Oh—sure,” she chirped in surprise. I smirked as her wide, black-ringed eyes glared down at our joined hands. A frown creased her face before she spun around and strode off.
“Still the same old Decker,” Krew said, pulling his hand away. I wanted to snatch it back, but I tucked my hand under the table instead. I didn’t trust myself around Krew.
“What does that mean?”
“Still very possessive,” he uttered with a soft chuckle.
I skewered him with a sneer before glancing down at the menu Krew slid over to me. I opened it, trying to wrangle in my annoyance.
A full minute passed before Krew said, “I thought about you and Regi all the time, especially when I was in… jail.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, other than “I’m sorry,” but that didn’t seem appropriate. I settled for, “Yeah. It was hard for all of us… for me… Krew?—”
I wasn’t able to finish my confession, because the damn waitress was back with two cups of coffee, a bowl of creamers, and another bowl of sugar options.
She dropped the items onto the middle of the table before she stomped away.
The woman didn’t give a crap that the hot liquid splashed onto the Formica top.
Without a word, Krew snagged some napkins from the dispenser and wiped up the mess. I would have left that shit for the bitch to clean up.
“There goes her tip,” Krew muttered under his breath, which made me smile.
“So what are you ordering?” I asked, chickening out on my declaration of how much I had missed him and Regina. Or how my chest hollowed out every time I thought about them being together.
“Not sure yet,” he said.
I lifted the coffee to my lips, took a sip, and glanced up—Christ, those damn dimples. Krew stared at the menu, smirking without realizing it.
I dropped my eyes to the menu in front of me—and immediately regretted it. A grotesque photo of a meatloaf dinner stared back at me, gray and lumpy. I grimaced.
Except, the real distraction was across the table. I’d struggled to control myself around this man, and clearly, not much had changed.
Krew was smirking again—that infuriating, cocky little curve at the corner of his mouth. I wanted to wipe it off with a kiss he’d never forget. Instead, I glued myself to the chair and forced my eyes back to the menu, pretending to care about the list of entrees.
I slapped the menu down on the table. “I know what I want.”
“You do?” He briefly met my eyes before dropping his back down to his menu. “Everything looks good,” he said. “What are you going to get?”
“Meatloaf dinner,” I quickly replied. The shock on my friend’s face had me frowning. “What?”
Krew glanced at the menu and then back at me. “Really? Meatloaf?”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because you hate meatloaf,” he said incredulously.
“That was then,” I gruffly retorted and looked away.
Krew leaned back against the booth. “I don’t think so…” Something was percolating in his head and I wasn’t liking it. “Are you going to answer any of the questions I asked earlier tonight?”
“Call the waitress. I’m hungry,” I grumbled, hoping the distraction worked.
He shook his head. “Stop changing the subject, Deck.”
“I’m not.” I leaned back, matching his frown. Before I got a chance to open my mouth, the damn waitress walked over.
“What’ll you have, boys ?” I couldn’t ignore the condemnation in her tone.
“I’ll have a burger, medium, loaded. Fries, and a Coke,” Krew rumbled out.
“Same,” I added, my gaze fixed on Krew’s widening grin.
“Sure thing,” our irritable waitress griped, before striding toward the partially open doorway to the kitchen.
Krew waited a beat before he leaned forward, a glint of humor in his eyes. “I…” he trailed off as the chimes that were hung on the diner’s door rang.
I leaned slightly to the left, and caught sight of two men—and stiffened, because I recognized one of them. A hitman named Jay. The other one, I didn’t know. However, from the way he scanned the diner and then narrowed his gaze on us, he too, was a killer.
Every warning bell in my head sounded. The guy who was sitting by the door must have felt a shift in the air too, because he scooted out of the booth and fled, leaving only me and Krew and the two new customers.
I wanted to grab Krew and run, except Jay and his buddy had strategically blocked our exit. Hell, they weren’t here for a social visit.
With their eyes trained on our booth, I realized they were here for me. Why? I had no clue, but I’d find out soon enough.
The problem was that Krew was here, too, and in danger. Whatever was about to go down with these hitmen, I had to make sure their sights were solely on me, not on my friend.
I leaned in, checking the pocket where I stashed my nine mil, and whispered to Krew, “Don’t move. Keep your eyes forward and I’ll be right back.”