Sawyer
Ipick up the basket of bread and stifle the urge to walk out of this restaurant right now.
Zelda is killing me, looking like she is.
She’s wearing a black dress with thin straps that accentuates the delicate curve where her shoulders blend smoothly into her neck and then to a neckline that’s giving me teasing glances of the swell of her breasts.
I want to slide the straps off of her shoulders, drop the dress to the floor… “Do you want…some bread?”
She widens her eyes like the basket is full of diamonds, and then she takes in a little breath. “I would. I would really like that.” She takes one of the rolls from the basket and tips it onto her plate, rolling her eyes. “That guy has some incredible timing.”
I’ll give him one more chance to interrupt a conversation that’s getting heated… heated in a good way, that is.
This week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. Every single morning, I woke up trying to fight off the urge to find Zelda and kiss her, hard, and then take her away to somewhere quiet for the rest of the day.
Until yesterday, something was always holding me back.
Usually that something was my aunt, who has let some things fall by the wayside while my dad has been sick.
He’s not the best handyman in the world, but some of the things Aunt Linda has said to me makes me think he was picking up some of the slack for her by doing some home repairs and working around the yard.
Every time she’d casually mention something that she was planning to get done, a guilty lump would form in my throat.
It’s one thing to meet someone like Zelda. It’s another thing to let her take over her life, especially when you’re going to go back to your job in the city and leave her behind. A woman like Zelda doesn’t have any business being near a guy like me—not when I’m in my regular life, anyway.
“That guy can’t read the room.”
“He’s not a people expert, that’s for sure. Not like you.” She gives me a look and tears off a piece of the bread, putting it onto her tongue in probably the most seductive display of eating bread I’ve ever seen.
“I’m an expert, huh?”
“Don’t you have to be if you work in security?
” Her eyes are wide and innocent, but behind the innocence is a burning curiosity she can’t hide.
I know she wants to know more about what I do.
But if I tell her, she’s not going to want to be with me anymore.
She’s a librarian, an upstanding person in the community, and she still lives with her parents.
She will absolutely not want to be associated with a guy who beats people up for a living.
“In a way.” I think of all the times I’ve shoved people up against brick walls, my fist wrapped tightly around the collar of their shirt, my face inches away from theirs.
Or the times something shifts in their face, and I know if I take it down a notch, play the good guy who’s trapped as a go-between, they’ll give me the money they owe Domino and it doesn’t have to come to a real beating.
“Do you have to carry a gun?”
She’s probably picturing me as a doorman, a mall cop. “Sometimes.”
I have one—I usually keep it locked in the glove box of my car—but it’s a rare occasion when I have to bring it with me.
Most of the college kids who owe Domino don’t have guns, and waving a gun around sometimes has…
undesirable effects. The last thing I want in any of these situations is to have someone call 911, and most people will cave if there’s no gun.
With a gun, it’s a whole different story.
“Is it blood diamonds?”
The question is so absurd that I laugh. “What?”
“Are you protecting blood diamonds or something? You said it wasn’t a good company.”
“It’s not—” I really don’t want to get into this right now. I want to go back to the conversation we were having. I’m still searching for the right thing to say that will get us back on track, when my phone buzzes in my pocket.
I reach down and dismiss the call. “It’s probably not something I should—” The buzzing interrupts me again, insistent.
“Sorry.” I reach down into my pocket and pull it out, silencing it with my thumb, but not dismissing the call.
Hot irritation rises in my throat. I told Domino I’d be unavailable. What does he think that means?
I dismiss the call again, and before I’ve had a chance to slide my phone into my pocket, it’s ringing again. I give Zelda as much of an apologetic look as I can muster. “I should take this…”
She waves me off as if it’s not a big deal to be getting a frantic call during dinner, and then she picks the roll back up off her plate and takes another bite. I stand up and move quickly toward the lobby, putting the phone to my ear as I go.
“Hello?”
“Are you back in the city?” Domino doesn’t usually waste time on pleasantries, like saying hello.
“No. I’m still working things out with my dad.”
He gives a heavy sigh. “Sawyer, I need you around here. There are jobs that need doing.”
I force myself not to glance back at Zelda. “I get that. But I need some time here, okay? I told you—”
“I heard what you told me,” he says, his voice turning sharp, irritated, and a little prickle of unease drags its fingernail down the back of my neck. “Is it going to be necessary for me to find a replacement?”
The threat surges underneath his words, and I can’t stop my hands from balling up into fists.
I’ve been working for Domino for too long. It’s made me forget that he’s a dangerous man, even if he doesn’t look like it from the outside. It’s made me forget that he could end me at any time, and I probably wouldn’t see it coming.
It didn’t matter to me before I met Zelda. But slowly, slowly, it’s starting to matter to me a lot.
My jaw clenches, and I work to relax it. “Is there something urgent you need me to take care of?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.” Domino reels off the guy’s information, and I realize it’s not all the way into the city. In fact, it’s closer to this restaurant than it is to my apartment.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“In the next hour, Sawyer. In the next hour.”
I don’t have time to argue before the line goes dead.