Chapter Twenty-One
Alexandra
Dixon returns to the bar looking exactly like a man on the winning side of a nine-on-two fight. There’s blood on his knuckles, blood on his shirt and blood on his face — some of it his, most of it theirs — but he’s sporting a grin as wide as the sea. I don’t know how to feel about it, at first. This is the man I’m supposed to hate. The man who makes my spine feel like a cheese grater is running up and down it every time he smirks at me and utters that nickname — princess. This is the man that I was ready to kill. This is the man who killed my brother. This is the man who makes me smile.
He looks different to me coming back through that door than he did when he left.
And it’s not just the blood.
“Why did you do that?” I say the second he slides back onto his barstool.
“Why, princess?” He holds his beer to his lips for a gratingly long second, smirking at me over the rim, before he takes a drink and sets it down. “You think I’m going to say something about how I can’t sit back and let a group of assholes like that disrespect a woman? That I had to be some honorable man?”
“Never would say that about you in a million years. I know exactly the man you are, Dixon.”
He grins. It’s cocky. I hate it. Hate it so much I don’t know whether I want to kiss it or slap it off his face.
“Truth is, with everything I’ve done, I figure I have a monopoly when it comes to pissing you off. Anyone else wants to do it, they need to get my permission first.”
It’s a lie. He knows it, I know it.
“So, you’re an asshole, intent on being the biggest asshole of them all,” I say. Another lie.
Well, a half-lie. He is an asshole, but he’s something else, too.
“But I’m your asshole, aren’t I? The same way that you’re my…”
“Don”t flatter yourself,” I retort, but my voice doesn”t carry the conviction I”d hoped for.
Dixon chuckles. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Fuck off, and drink your beer,” I say. Though, after a quiet second, I add, “Thank you.”
He winks at me over his beer and I roll my eyes toward the ceiling, and as they’re up there, I swear I hear his voice — “I’ll never let anyone disrespect you, princess.”
My eyes dart to him. “Did you say something?”
“Not a peep.”
Did I imagine it? I must have.
Except, there’s a smile on my lips when I turn away from him and walk to the other end of the bar to fill a customer’s order. It’s a gin and tonic; basic, but I spend so much time mixing the damn thing while trying to avoid looking at Dixon — trying, and failing, because I keep throwing glances at him over my shoulder — that the ice in the man’s drink melts and I’m basically stirring it all into a gin slushie.
“I think it’s ready,” the man says, eyes on the glass in front of me, which is sweating enough that I empathize with it.
“Oh, it is? Who’s the bartender?”
“You are.”
“So it’s ready when I say it’s ready.”
“What’s your problem?”
“Whiny manbabies who don’t know what a gin and tonic looks like.”
“You suck.”
My eyes pointedly flicker from him to Dixon. “You want to repeat that again so hecan hear you?”
”Who’s he? Your boyfriend?” He says, his arrogance dissipating with each syllable as he actually looks at Dixon and sees the fresh blood on him.
“Maybe he is. But he definitely wouldn’t appreciate the way you’re talking to me. So, are you going to speak up and start shit with my man over there, or are you going to take your cocktail like a good boy?”
I slide the glass across the bar to him. He slides back a twenty.
“Keep the change. Just… I’m sorry. Please don’t tell your boyfriend what I said.”
I pocket the twenty and give the man a nod, dismissing him with as much kindness as I can muster. There”s a tightness in my chest, a coil of something warm and complicated that I don”t want to unspool, not here, not now. It felt strangely right to call Dixon my boyfriend, and not just because it shut that asshole customer up and got me a decent tip out of it.
When I turn around, Reggie’s there. He gives me a smile that’s so gentle it’s disconcerting seeing it on the face of a man so large and intimidating.
”Bourbon, straight up,” he says.
I grab a clean glass and pour the bourbon smoothly, watching it slosh gently against the sides. My hands are steady, but inside I”m anything but. Thinking about Dixon has my heart and mind in a tailspin.
”You know, that Dixon…” Reggie pauses as I slide his drink toward him. ”He really cares about you, Alex.”
”Sure he does,” I say, sarcastically.
Reggie takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine.
”No joke. He didn”t hesitate jumping into that fight because... Well, he told me it”s because you mean something to him. He said he’d take on the world for you. Granted, didn’t seem the happiest about it, but I know when a man’s bullshitting, and he meant what he said.”
My heart skips in my chest. The distress and confusion mix into an emotional cocktail that”s more potent than anything I can make behind this bar. Feelings for Dixon? Of course, they’re there; swirled deep within me like an undercurrent I’ve been desperately trying to swim against. A smile tries to creep onto my lips at the thought of Dixon standing up for me, but my mind panics at the same time and reminds me that this is not simple — it’s messy and raw and could unravel my entire life if the road to the truth about who really killed my brother leads back to Dixon.
I can’t feel this way about him.
I can’t.
But I do.
Reggie leans forward. ”Alex, don’t look like I’ve just told you the world”s ending. It”s OK to feel, you know? People care about each other. It’s part of life.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated.” Reggie finishes his drink, and his voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. ”How”d you meet him, anyway?”
I grab a rag and start wiping down the counter, looking for something to do with my hands. ”He”s helping me through the death of my brother.”
He nods, his expression softening. ”I”m sorry for your loss.”
There”s sincerity there, a depth that I hadn”t expected from him.
”Yeah,” I say, swallowing back the lump that forms in my throat. ”My brother was everything to me, and then…”
I stop myself, my words turning into nothing more than a shake of my head. I have to stop before I reveal too much weakness. I have to get my shit together. It’s nearly closing time, I’m tired as hell, and I have to meet up with some creepy, sex-obsessed crime bosses after work. This is not the ideal moment to explore just what I might really feel for Dixon, or why my cheeks get warm when I’m near him, or why my stomach isn’t entirely swirling with revulsion and the need to vomit when I look at him.
This warm, irritating, tempting, powerful emotion swirls inside me and I don’t know how much long I’ll be able to fight it. Or if I even want to.
“I understand, Alex,” Reggie says. “But I”ll say this: I”ve seen a lot of people in my day. I”ve seen the ones who are real and the ones who aren”t. Snakes, liars, and the ones who will have your back through anything. Dixon? He”s real. And when you find someone real in this messed up world, you hold on to them. You hear me?”
Hold on to him? To Dixon? The man I’m supposed to hate, the man I trained myself to hate, yet the man I can’t take my eyes off of?
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Reggie downs the rest of his drink and gives me one last look that says more than words ever could, and then he”s gone.
I”m left standing there, my heart pounding, my mind racing. My world is a storm of emotions, and there’s only one rock I want to cling to — it’s the same rock that could drown me if things don’t go the right way.
Turning, I check the clock above the bar. It’s close enough.
“Last call,” I announce, proud that my voice doesn’t shake, even though I can see Dixon out of the corner of my eye. He’s on his phone, probably calling for backup, since we’ll be making the trade-off soon.
At least, that’s the plan.
But, as I notice the way he’s looking at me and think about what Reggie said, a new plan takes shape in my mind. When the last drink is mixed and the last customer is out the door, I turn to him.
“You ready to go, princess? Striker and Moose will be here soon to join us for the handoff.”
I walk toward the front door, smile growing with each step. “How long till they get here?”
“Why?”
At the door, I turn the lock. It makes a loud thunking noise
“Because I want to know how much time I have to fuck you.”