Chapter Four #2
Vendetta would need to map her routines, watch the corners she didn’t know she needed to watch.
He’d like to think he was the only one she’d told about her uncle’s behavior and what she heard at the Cottonmouths’ table.
If she’d told someone else, like Peggy who knew something, it could put her in the line of fire.
If Eli’s operation realized she was asking the wrong questions or just standing in the wrong hallway at the wrong time, she’d become disposable.
Did she know her cousin, who was known as Babyface to his MC, well at all? Did she know what had really happened to him? Or did she think he was alive somewhere out there?
Vendetta had already buried one life at the hands of traitors. He wasn’t about to bury another.
* * *
Dylan
Her night started like any other. Business was slow and steady with locals filtering in for cheap beer and cheaper conversation. Dylan moved from table to table, refilling drinks, clearing away the empty ones, and smiling when she had to. Otherwise, she kept her head down.
She had an hour to go when the front door creaked open and Uncle Eli stepped inside, his broad shoulders filling the frame.
Tonight, he walked like the worn leather of his cut was weighing him down.
And he wasn’t alone. The man with him didn’t belong in a bar like Ned’s.
He looked like he was somewhere in his forties with his hair styled and neat.
His coat was tailored, his boots polished.
The expensive watch circling his wrist caught the light as they walked to the back with her uncle. They took a booth in the corner.
The man scanned the room just like Eli did every time he walked in, but the way this guy did it made her skin crawl. It was almost like he was cataloging everything around him, trying to decide if it was good enough for him.
They were talking, heads close and voices low.
It was her section, but some gut instinct told her she didn’t want to go back there.
But it was her job. Swallowing hard, she grabbed a tray and forced herself to walk to the back toward them.
She approached the table with a smile she didn’t feel, pad and pen ready. “What can I get you?”
The wealthy-looking man glanced up, and immediately, his attention locked on her. His gaze swept over her slowly, like he was memorizing every curve of her body, the tilt of her smile, and the way her hands fidgeted with the pen.
Now, she really wanted to be anywhere else.
“I’ll take a bourbon,” he said in a smooth voice. His gaze didn’t leave her.
She scribbled it down, avoiding direct eye contact. “And for you?” she asked Eli, her voice tightening.
Eli didn’t even look at her. No acknowledgement at all. What the fuck?
Just muttered, “Same,” without lifting his eyes from the conversation.
Dylan’s heart twisted in her chest. What had she done to deserve this?
She turned and walked away quickly. She could feel the other man’s gaze follow her the whole way back to the bar.
Something about him unnerved her. She tried to shake it off as she poured their drinks.
You’re reading too much into it. It’s nothing.
It wasn’t the first time a stranger had looked at her a little too long.
It wasn’t the first time her uncle had acted like she didn’t exist while he was doing business in the bar.
But this was different. It felt different. There was something wrong under the surface tonight, something she couldn’t put her finger on. But she’d felt it the entire shift.
For the first time since she took the job at Ned’s, a terrible thought crossed her mind. Maybe Eli hadn’t wanted her working here because he knew exactly the kind of men he’d be sitting across from.
Wiping her hands on a towel after she set the glasses onto a tray, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket.
It was Jason. She didn’t even have to check.
Somehow, he always seemed to know when something wasn’t right.
Deciding she’d read his text as soon as she served the drinks to her uncle and his guest, she put her game face on and headed in that direction.
The second she approached, the tension sharpened.
The wealthy man’s smile widened in a way that gave her the creeps.
Eli barely spared her a glance, still focused on whatever low, urgent conversation they were having.
She set the bourbon in front of her uncle first, then his guest. He caught her wrist before she could pull away; not tightly, but enough to get her attention.
“You’re wasted in a place like this, sweetheart,” he said, voice smooth and heavy like syrup.
Every muscle in Dylan’s body went rigid. She forced a smile, trying to keep composed until she could get away from the table. “Enjoy your drink,” she said in a calm voice, as she carefully tried to pull her wrist free of his grip, but the man didn’t let go.
Eli didn’t react or say a word, like he didn’t notice it was happening. He didn’t even lift his head.
The man leaned in closer, dropping his voice low enough that only she could hear it. “Maybe you’d like to work someplace better. It would be safer and a helluva lot cleaner. Bet your uncle here wouldn’t mind.”
Dylan’s stomach turned as the realization hit her.
Uncle. The man doing this knew exactly who she was.
Yanking her wrist free, not hard enough to cause a scene, but enough to make it clear she wasn’t interested, she backed away fast with the tray clutched tightly to her chest and her heart pounding in her ears.
She didn’t stop until she slipped behind the bar with trembling hands.
It was all she could do to pull her phone from her pocket, to see Jason’s text waiting.
Jason: how’s it going beautiful?
Dylan fumbled over the keyboard, her heart racing.
Dylan: weird night.cant wait tosee you
She hit send before she could second-guess herself, trying to calm her breathing as she kept one eye on that booth in the back… where her uncle still talked to that man and pretended she didn’t exist.
Peggy was off tonight but she asked one of the newer waitresses, Rose, if she’d finish that table for her.
Rose, who was going through a divorce and had kids to feed, told her she could take off early if she wanted to.
Dylan needed the money too, but just now, she had no problem getting away from Ned’s, her uncle, and whoever that man was.
By the time she slipped out the back door of Ned’s, Jason’s van was already there, idling under the same broken streetlight that barely lit the alley.
He unlocked the passenger door as she approached, giving her that smile she had come to love.
Like it was just another night and everything was normal.
Only it wasn’t normal. She slid into the passenger seat, throwing on the seatbelt and clutching her bag tight against her lap. The second the door shut, the weight of the world outside stayed locked on the other side of the glass.
Jason didn’t press her, though she felt his gaze on her. He just pulled out onto the street, the radio low, the heater kicking on with a low hum.
After a minute, he glanced over at her, keeping his voice light. “Busy night?”
Normally, Dylan would’ve laughed and teased him.
Usually, she had some story to tell, about old bikers getting rowdy over jukebox picks or the regulars ordering one too many cheap whiskeys.
But tonight, she was engulfed in a serious sense of dread.
Staring out the windshield, she just watched the darkness rush past and swallowed hard before answering.
“Busy’s not the word I’d use.”
Jason didn’t say anything right away. But she noticed his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he drove.
His gaze darted to her and back to the road, brief but not sharp.
It was like he knew she wasn’t telling him everything.
And he wasn’t asking, but then he never did.
Somehow, that made it worse, because part of her wanted to spill everything, right now in the dark cab of the van, in the safety of his presence.
She wanted to tell him about the stranger who’d come in with Eli, how he’d grabbed her and how Eli hadn’t reacted at all when it happened.
She wanted to explain that she felt, deep down, she was noticing strange things at Ned’s, and just maybe she’d made a mistake in staying there.
They drove in silence for a few more minutes, and it was the kind of silence that said more than words ever could.
When they pulled into her apartment lot, Jason shifted the van into park but didn’t kill the engine.
He didn’t look at her right away, just stared through the windshield like he was working through something.
“I don’t have to stay tonight,” he said, “if it’s a bad night and you need space.” His voice was careful, like he didn’t want to spook her. But he sounded so sincere. He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, the movement almost shy. “And I’m not expecting anything. Not ever.”
The words hung there, soft and steady, giving her all the room in the world to say no.
But Dylan didn’t want him to leave. Not tonight.
Not when it felt like there was a weight on her chest and she wouldn’t be able to breathe if she sat with it alone.
Turning toward him, her hands knotted in her lap.
“I don’t need space,” she said quietly. She needed him. “I just… I don’t have anyone else I can really talk to.”
Jason’s mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite. It seemed like he was relieved by her answer, which surprised her. No sex but please listen to me blather about all my problems. Where had this guy been all her life?
Reaching over, he gently brushed the backs of his knuckles across hers. “Then talk to me, sweetheart,” he said, voice rough. “I’m right here.”
“Let’s go up,” she said.