Chapter Six
Shai
It’s been a few days since Ollie left to go home for the holiday.
I wonder how things are going with his boyfriend meeting his dad.
It’s not something I should think about or give a shit about, and really, it’s not that I care.
I’m just curious. I can tell Ollie’s a good guy, but even though I haven’t met this boyfriend of his, I have a bad feeling about him.
I could ask some of the others at work. I’m sure there’s a way I could bring it up without looking like a creeper, but I don’t. It’s none of my fucking business, really.
So I keep my head down, do my job and earn my measly paycheck, when all I want is to get the fuck out of here and, well, if I’m honest, do something reckless.
I don’t know why I thought getting my mom away from my sex-trafficking father would make anything different with her, but it hasn’t.
She doesn’t know how to be a mom any more than she did before, not that I need her to be.
I’ve never needed that. We basically grew up together, and at some point, I feel like I surpassed her—but then, I’m also in the new habit of holding people at gunpoint and stealing their money for fun, so who am I to judge?
And she might still be drinking like crazy and letting men pay to fuck her, but at least she isn’t getting her ass beaten every other day.
They have me on the register tonight at work, which I fucking hate. Not that I’m a fan of making pizza, but it’s better than dealing with the customer is always right, especially when the customer is mostly spoiled college kids.
I’m folding boxes, with my back to the register, the sound of cardboard on cardboard like nails on a chalkboard, when someone clears his throat behind me. Fuck. I do not want to deal with people right now.
A sigh falling from my lips, I turn around—and freeze. My heart starts beating like crazy, my ears echoey as I take in the person standing in front of me.
It’s him.
Cherry.
The motherfucker whose gun is locked in the trunk of my car and who promised to kill me.
He slips his hands into the pockets of his coat and smiles. “Can you help me?” He cocks a brow, and I realize I’m just standing there staring.
Please don’t let him recognize my voice. “Um…yeah. Sorry. One of those days. What can I get you?”
This has to be a coincidence. No way can he know who I am. He’s here for some fucking pizza, and I need to chill out. Everything will be fine.
“What would you suggest?” Cherry asks.
“Pizza?”
He chuckles. “Funny guy. Toppings, I mean.”
“You’re the one eating it,” falls from my mouth, which isn’t very smart. Talking shit to someone who has no fear with a gun in his face, and also, I’d like to keep this job, but what the fuck. It’s pizza. How hard is it to choose?
“Well, that wasn’t very nice, was it?” He’s watching me, this deep, penetrating gaze I swear is almost like he’s touching me. I’ve seen and done a lot. I’m not scared of much, and I’m not scared of him, but I sense the danger in him. I sensed it that night I robbed him…and I like it.
“Are you going to ask to speak to my manager?”
“No. I deal with issues on my own. Are you going to be an issue…” I tense again as his words trail off, but then he adds, “Or can I order pizza? I’m starving.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m a simple guy. I like pepperoni.”
“Pepperoni it is. For here. A medium. And a Coke.”
I ring up his order, hoping he’ll pay with a card and I can see his name, but he pulls out cash instead.
Our fingers brush when he hands it over, his stare still firmly locked on to mine, before he smiles again.
I tremble—again, not from fear, though the wildness of this man rolls off him in waves.
Curiosity, I guess, interest, and acknowledgment of the power sizzling beneath his skin, that’s what gets to me, this tingling shock traveling from where our skin meets and making me feel… funny.
I hand him one of the numbers to place on his table. He watches me but doesn’t move, then takes it, winks, and strolls over to a booth. He slides in and looks at me again.
What. The. Fuck.
He can’t know. How the fuck would he know?
I put the order in with the kitchen staff. It’s killing me not to ask if they know who he is, but somehow, I feel like he would know, and I don’t want to give him that pleasure.
With my back to him, I continue folding boxes.
I feel him watching me, the hairs on the back of my neck rising, and honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve felt that way the past couple of days.
More than once, I could have sworn someone was watching me.
Did Jagger find us? I would think he’d sent Cherry if I hadn’t met him by randomly jacking him.
When the kitchen calls out his number, I pick up the pizza and head over to his table. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” He looks at my nametag. “Shai.” He says my name correctly. A lot of people pronounce it Shae rather than like shy.
His gaze runs the length of my body. Jesus, maybe he’s simply flirting with me.
“Well, now I feel at a disadvantage because you know my name and I don’t know yours.” Two can play this game.
“Rory,” he replies. “We have a mutual friend, actually—Ollie. His boyfriend is like a brother to me.”
My spine stiffens. That’s what this is about?
Ollie? It confirms my suspicions about his boyfriend.
If he’s the kind of guy who sends his friend to try and scare me because I’ve had some friendly conversations with his boyfriend, Ollie needs to run and not look back.
I know men like this, who think of other people as their possessions, because my father is one of them.
He never cared how many people my mom fucked as long as he was making money off her, but if she dared even talk to someone he didn’t want her to associate with, he would make her pay.
“I don’t want your friend’s man, if that’s what you think.”
“Brother,” he corrects.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. And brother isn’t even a strong enough word for what he is to me. And did I say you want him? I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, Shai. I’m just saying hi because we have a mutual friend.”
“Yeah, sure. That’s not what it seems like. From where I’m sitting, Cillian is jealous, maybe afraid he can’t hold on to Ollie, so he sent you to deal with it for him. Ollie deserves someone better, if you ask me.”
I swear the temperature in the restaurant amps up. Rory doesn’t move. Hell, I’m not sure he’s even breathing, but the pure rage rolling off him is hard to miss. It takes everything inside me not to take a step back, but I refuse to let him intimidate me.
“I would be very careful if I were you. I would hate to see you make enemies of the wrong people.” His gaze flicks around me. “Someone’s waiting at the counter for you.”
Shit. I nearly forgot I’m at work.
I take a step back, then another. It’s not until I’m at the register that I realize I’m holding my breath.
There’s no doubt in my mind Rory is a dangerous dude. I knew it the second he turned around and didn’t flinch at my gun. And somehow Ollie, this sweet, nerdy pre-law student, is wrapped up with him.
I remind myself that this is none of my business, that I shouldn’t care, but as I’m ringing up the next customers, I can’t stop my gaze from flicking over to Rory—to that red hair that caught my attention the first time I saw him, the intensity in his blue eyes, how he can look both like the kind of spoiled brat I hate, but also like someone who is powerful enough to deserve respect.
Worst of all is how sexy he is. I shouldn’t want this man, but I do. He was intriguing to me before, and our interaction amplified that.
I can’t wait to figure him out.