Chapter Eight #2
“I’m not angry.” She marked the invoice and clipped it under the counter. “He called me first. Before he called you.”
Georgia came in at seven to open. She and Juniper exchanged quiet conversation as I refilled my coffee. Then the morning rush started, and I stayed back, watching everything in the shadows.
It was during the mid-morning lull that Juniper told me what the conversation between her and Georgia had been about. “Georgia gave her notice. Her mother heard something.”
I set my cup down. “What did her mother hear?”
“She didn’t say.”
We stood in the kitchen doorway, not quite facing each other, the counter between us. This was how it had been all morning. There was a gap between us I didn’t know how to bridge.
“Let me extend Zero’s coverage,” I said. “Another week.”
“No.” She went back to the counter and checked her clipboard.
“Juniper --”
“No. We had an agreement and I held to it, and it ends today.” She made another mark.
“Having your guys out there doesn’t stop what’s already moving.
It just makes it look like the place isn’t safe.
Not from your friends, but from something.
Which is a whole different problem than the one I have.
I can’t give this shit any accidental credibility.
” She was right. That was the thing I kept running into with her.
She was usually right, and it made the situation ten times more aggravating.
Later that afternoon, I got a call from Knight with a tip on where Brett would be. I left the bakery with Zero watching the place so I could have a chat with Juniper’s ex.
The open house sign was white with blue lettering, stuck into the front lawn of a house in Germantown with a price tag I thought more than a bit inflated, but apparently, I was the only one who thought so.
I suppose when you’ve got the kind of money most of these people had, dropping seven figures on a two-bedroom house was more of a status symbol than a practicality.
Three cars sat in the driveway. The door was open and a handwritten card sat on a folding table at the entrance with a plate of cookies and two bottles of water reading, “Calloway Real Estate. Welcome.” I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, then went inside.
Brett worked the room, easy and unhurried, the center of every conversation without appearing to be.
He had a young couple in the kitchen, hands gesturing at the cabinet space, voice too low for me to catch the words but the register carrying clearly as warm and assured.
I found a spot at the far end of the living room near the doorway to the hall and put my back to the wall and watched.
He moved the couple to the back of the house, then spent five minutes with a man carrying a portfolio who asked questions about various parts of the structure.
Brett answered without looking at his notes.
A family came in behind me, two parents and a kid, and Brett crossed back to greet them, shaking hands, crouching down to say something to the kid that made the kid laugh.
He was good at his job, I’d give him that.
Took him a solid five minutes to notice me. The moment he did, I registered shock followed by his carefully crafted professionalism. He kept speaking to the family without missing a beat, seeming to be completely focused on them when I could tell he was acutely aware of me standing in the foyer.
He finished what he was saying and let them move on to the dining room. Then he straightened, smoothed the front of his jacket, and looked at me directly across the length of the room, smiling as he did.
The family moved upstairs. The portfolio man took a card and left.
The young couple reappeared from the back, asked about the timeline for offers, and Brett walked them to the door with another round of handshakes and a card each.
The door closed behind them. The house went quiet except for the distant voices of the family somewhere on the second floor.
Brett turned and walked over. He moved without any hurry.
His suit looked expensive, but what the fuck did I know about men’s business wear?
His lean frame still filled out the jacket across his shoulders without looking too bulky.
He stopped maybe six feet away, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed.
“Didn’t know you were in the market,” he said pleasantly.
“This one would be a stretch on a club salary, but there are some good options down the road. I could put together a package.” I didn’t move or say anything.
“Or,” Brett said, his voice dropping slightly, “if this is about Junie, I hope you know I’m just worried about her.
She’s been under a lot of stress. With the shop and everything.
” He paused just long enough. “I hope things settle down for her soon. I really do.”
Suddenly, I realized coming here hadn’t been my brightest idea. I knew exactly what I could do with the right motivation, I just hadn’t realized I’d have this intense protective reaction over Juniper.
Brett stood six feet away, completely safe, and he knew it. I had no doubt the bastard had managed to find enough about me to know my history.
I looked at him for three seconds. Then I said, “You should know Juniper has people watching out for her.”
“That’s good.” He gave me a relieved smile. “I worried she’d have trouble finding her footing.” He shrugged. “She’s… prone to make up dramatic stories. Watch out for her, but also watch out for yourself. Your friends. She’ll drag you under if you let her. Why do you think I left?”
“Funny,” I said. “She never once brought your name up unprompted. Not on her birthday at Throttle, and not since. But you can’t seem to stop sayin’ hers.”
“I’m just trying to be honest with you,” he said. “One man to another.”
The familiar rage I’d worked so fucking hard to control threatened to break through my shield. I’d built it not to protect myself, but everyone around me.
Instead of engaging further, I turned slowly, gave him a snort of derision before I turned and walked back through the entry hall and out through the front door.
I walked down the front path to the driveway without looking back. I reached my bike at the end of the driveway and swung a leg over it and sat. As I put my hands on the grips before starting the machine, I realized not only was I shaking with anger, but my palms were sweating.
Finally, I revved the engine a couple of times, just to piss off the neighbors around us, and took off.
I needed to get away from here. I needed to make sure Knight and Hawk knew they needed to be aware of a heightened threat to the club from this pissant in case he figured out more about Kiss of Death than he should.
And I needed to figure out what exactly I planned on doing about this situation because I knew there was no way I could leave Juniper on her own.