Chapter Eight
Jonas.
I know how badly she wanted to be a fly on the wall of Damon’s office, but Maverick’s face was so set in stone, I knew it wasn’t the right time. Whatever he was here for – it wasn’t for her. Or me.
So I tugged her to me when I found her listening in on their conversation, worrying her bottom lip, chewing on it so hard I thought she would make it bleed. Instead of tugging her back to me like I wanted, I gave her a moment by leaning with my ear to the door with her.
Nothing.
Their voices were too low and muffled and the harder she tried to listen, the more her brows furrowed in frustration.
I took a thumb, pressed it between her brows, and then kissed where I had pressed when she opened her eyes.
I waggled my eyebrows and jerked my chin to the kitchen where the bag of takeout waited for us and asked the silliest question – “Hungry baby?” Because between working out with me downstairs, dancing at Inferno, and walking miles on campus, and fucking my brains out – my girl is always hungry.
I love that.
We had stopped for ramen on the way home, and honestly, it was a great day for soup.
Even though she still got her caramel cookie crunch Talenti ice cream earlier.
But who were we to say no to ramen? If it brought a smile to her face…
she had to have it. And if I can get it for her, I will. Every time.
I take her by the hand, reveling in the feel of it in mine, and pull her away with the promise of her spicy miso with a double helping of chashu.
I open bags and make a fine spread of the multiple containers, flimsy white napkins, chopsticks, and of course, low-sodium soy sauce on the breakfast bar while she cuts up a few limes to squeeze over her order.
She makes a few motions with her hands to ask if I want some too and sure, why the fuck not? Every time we eat, she does something to her food and makes it better. I still can’t stand overly spicy foods, but I can take a bit of lime.
She grabs a bowl from the cabinet above her, (Damon has had to lower everything to the bottom shelf otherwise she climbs the counter) and she pours half of her ramen into it, looking at the hallway and back at the bowl, drumming her fingers against the marble countertop. I’ve never seen her look so anxious.
I hate it.
I put my hand on her lower back, encouraging her to sit on the barstool beside me, she’s almost up and sitting when the door to Damon’s office opens, and she grabs the bowl and hurries to meet them, practically crashing into Maverick.
I cover my eyes with a hand, peeking through my fingers.
She stops with enough time and… stands there.
Peering up at him, I can feel the tension from here as he flicks his gaze from the bowl to me to her.
The muscle in his jaw ticks once, twice… I stand, ready to hold my gorgeous girl when he rejects her, but Maverick surprises me by taking the bowl from her hands.
“Thank you,” he says softly, taking the olive branch. It’s small, but it’s a start.
He doesn’t see the way she trembles, doesn’t see the relief on her face when she turns back to me, or the tear that slips free that she wipes away quickly.
But I do. I look at Damon, steely eyes unsure of what’s transpiring, but he follows them into the kitchen, and we sit.
Raven with me, Damon on her other side, and that leaves Maverick to sit in front of her.
It could be awkward.
But for her, I won’t let it be.
He takes a pair of packaged chopsticks, unwrapping them, and begins mixing his noodles with the proteins and veggies in the spicy broth.
When Raven offers him a lime, he takes that, too.
Mostly because I’m glaring at him, daring him to fuck this up so I can punch his eyeballs into his brain using said chopsticks.
I wait until he has a mouthful of Raven’s ramen to ask, “So, what’s going on?”
He chews as we all stare at him and the glare I receive soothes me. He swallows and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Detective Arlo stopped by today. Had some questions for me.”
“And?” I stuff my mouth, slurping the noodles in one go, still staring at him as the tips of his ears go pink.
All in all, Maverick is a handsome fucker.
The dark hair with a bit of silver in it, the scruff on his face, green eyes light enough you can tell they’re green behind his glasses, framed with long lashes.
My girl can pick them. She also seems to have picked a moody bunch. Myself included.
“And it seems one of us is being tailed.”
I almost choke on my chashu. Alright, yeah.
This needs to be talked about. I swallow, take a sip of my water, let it settle, lick my lips, and then place a kiss on Raven’s temple because I want to, because I know she loves it, and mostly, to irritate Maverick just a little bit more.
He watches the way she melts with me intently, the only sign he’s envious is a quick flare of his nostrils.
I gloat.
Damon watches the whole thing, hiding his grin behind his glass of water, taking a sip, and then reaches over to place a hand on Raven’s thigh.
“Yeah, we wanted to speak with you while we were in Paris, but you ran away like a coward.”
“I didn’t- “
“You talked, now I’m talking.” I interrupt because I don’t care.
I don’t care to hear his explanations. I don’t care to hear his excuses.
He hurt Raven. He pushed her away in more than one way.
We tried Damon's way, with the little French excursion and now I’m doing it mine.
“My mother called while we were perusing a bookstore Café. Apparently, the Syndicate’s appointed coroner found that Chase’s hyoid bone was broken. ”
“That’s-“
“Often found in strangulations? Yeah, we know.” I interrupt him again because fuck him . Until he apologizes to my girl, he can choke on chode.
He stares at Raven in disbelief, as if he can’t fathom how she could have done that if Chase had drowned.
I asked, and when she told me he died with his face between her thighs, I decided that was the way I want to go, too.
My girl keeps eating, watching everything unfold, not letting up on anything, just watching.
Mostly him. His features. Most likely to see if he’s… afraid of her or in awe of her.
The right answer should be in awe of her.
“Did you have something to do with that?” He asks, obviously still unaware how anything happened but if a detective is stalking him, it’s best if he doesn’t know anything whatsoever.
“I did not,” I answer honestly. “But if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
I put my chopsticks to the side, place a fist on the top of my thigh, place my forearm on the counter beside my bowl, and stare him down.
“Because you have a cop tailing you. Or us. The less you know, the better. If something happens, and one of us is caught, I’ll personally see to it that Raven doesn’t go down for anything.
I’d rather the Syndicate think it was one of their people placing hits and following through than her.
” Because they’ll finish what they started. They’ll kill her. I don’t add.
“Because you love her.”
“Because none of us here are innocent. Because I’m fucking crazy about her.
And she deserves freedom. They took away her life and she’s serving justice to those that wronged her.
If you knew, Maverick, what one has to do to be initiated to the Syndicate, what I had to do, what I have done, and unfortunately what I will continue to have to do until I fucking die , even though I was against it from the beginning, then you wouldn’t question why I want the entire brotherhood eradicated as well.
I only hope we take down as many as we can before something happens because it’s not if, it’s when .
” I can feel the muscles in my jaw ticking when I swallow the rest of what I want to say down, my Adam’s apple bobbing as my frustration subsides.
“So then tell me.”
I sit up straighter, squaring my shoulders back. “Tell you what?”
“About the Syndicate.”
“The less you know, the better.” I reiterate, picking my chopsticks back up even though my appetite is gone.
He seems to contemplate this, Raven’s adorable little bites into a crunchy bamboo stick are the only sounds as the silence lapses.
He makes a bobbing notion with his head, blinking rapidly, biting his bottom lip, and letting it roll out slowly.
“I took a look at some of the names in the binder Raven gave me… a lot of these are cold cases. Open cold cases. I could… I could help.”
I almost scoff. “This isn’t like the so-called Illuminati.
Go outside of the state of Massachusetts and nobody will have heard of the Syndicate.
Actually, let me correct myself. Go outside of the Salem city line and nobody will know what you’re talking about.
This is how tight-knit the brotherhood is, Harrington. ”
“Then tell me about it.” He grits out.
“Fine. Take off your shirt.”
“What?”
“Maybe this isn’t the right time,” Damon interjects but fuck this. He wants to know?
“Prove you’re not wearing a wire. Get your phone, put it under the seat cushion in the living room, and let’s fucking talk. Man-to-man,” I say, gesturing between us.
He gets up and does as I ask of him staying in my line of sight.
His phone under the cushion first then comes back and takes off his shirt, throwing it on the ground, then spinning in a slow circle with his arms out.
I keep my face neutral when I see how tatted he is from his forearms to his chest, the scars on his back, are for sure bullet holes.
He sits back down on the bar stool and arches a dark brow in my direction as if to say, ‘ Happy now?’