Oh, yeah, this is where the hero sweeps his woman up in his arms, kicks the door shut, and ravishes her.
Or in my life, he nods once and turns to leave with her friends.
Damn.
As the men exit my house they take all that testosterone and manly smells and loud banter with them. I close the door and it’s quiet. Just me in the space I’m trying to create and the silence that comes with it.
I’m a hot mess—excited by a man I shouldn’t be and ready to cry because the life I walked away from just walked away from me.
Jana said to close the door on my past. To shut out the chaos and the things I’ve been insulating myself with. What she didn’t say was how badly I might miss it all. I can’t imagine walking away from that. But I also can’t imagine going home to Coppertop and stepping back into my old life. I always thought when I finally got out, I’d never look back. But it’s not that easy. Not now that my new apartment smells like my old friends.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brice
Down in the lobby, I’m sizing them up again. Two of them are older . . . late fifties, early sixties. The other two are much younger but just as rough around the edges. These are Savannah’s friends?
Depending on where they are from in Maine, it is at least a four-hour drive. That they drove all that way implies they care about her. Dressed as she was when I first met her she would blend right in with them.
I question the motives of the two younger men. One is quick with the threats but doesn’t look like he’s been in a fight in his life. I should know, my nose is still crooked from a punch I took a few years back when some drunk sucker punched one of my Royal Guards. Hey, they put their lives on the line every day for my family. I’m not about to let one of my men get a beating simply because he was told not to engage unless I’m in danger. So I stepped in, took that punch, and released him from any need to go easy on the man.
Mathias doesn’t understand my popularity with the Royal Guard, but it stems from their knowledge that I would just as soon take a bullet for them as they would for me. Like mine, their lives are often considered nothing more than an insurance policy. Expendables have to watch out for each other.
Savannah’s friend with the scar looks up from the floor, and I don’t doubt his prison claim for a minute. He’s damaged, and it goes a lot deeper than his scar. I don’t know what he did to get himself in the first time, but he’s a man who feels he has little to lose. Those can be the most dangerous.
“How did you know we were here?” he asks.
I could deny knowing they were, but I have a feeling he’d know. Even though he spends most of his time looking at the floor, my guess is he doesn’t miss much. “I asked my driver to hang around to make sure she settled in okay tonight.”
“So you have someone following her?” Jimmy accuses.
The lobby is mostly deserted. Just us and an uneasy doorman. “Ensuring she’s safe.”
“Lighten up, Jimmy. I like this guy.” Murray gives my back a pat that almost sends me forward onto my face. “Brice, Savannah means a lot to us. Lance here has had a crush on her since grade school . . . and Jay. Well, she’s the only one who knows how to make him smile.”
I don’t know how I feel about either announcement. I can’t see Savannah with man-child Lance, and my comfort with her being around someone like Jay is still up for debate.
I text Charles to bring a limo around and text me when he’s in the area.
Jimmy flexes his shoulders. “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink.”
It would be easy enough to part ways with them here. As soon as they’re out of my sight, though, I’d lose control of the situation. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and random men you’re unsure of at least where you can see them.
Besides, nothing gets a person to open up and divulge their secrets better than a few drinks. Jimmy suggests I join them for a drink, and I look the man over with growing respect. He’s no fool; he’s not letting me out of his sight, either.
A message from Charles announces he is only a moment or two away. Fast, but not surprising. Money opens doors and makes the seemingly impossible almost tediously routine. I would have been shocked if he’d told me he couldn’t fulfill my request.
I rub a hand across my chin thoughtfully as though I’m mulling over Jimmy’s invitation. “My driver is on his way to pick me up. It’d be my pleasure to show you some of Boston.”
“Get a load of this guy,” Lance says with sarcasm. “He thinks all he has to do is throw his money around, and we’ll be impressed.”
Jimmy gives me a hard stare. “Money don’t make a man.”
Murray throws his opinion into the mix. “Nor does it mean we can’t share a drink with him. I’m in.”
“Me too,” Jay says quietly.
“I suggest we start with a restaurant.”
“Nothing fancy,” Jimmy warns. “We don’t do fancy.”
I could have said I’d already discerned that from Murray’s jean overalls, but I simply nod and say, “So tell me, does your palate lean more toward hamburgers or Wagyu rib eye?” When they don’t appear to know what the second is, I add, “Steak so tender it literally melts in one’s mouth.”
“Steak sounds good,” Murray says with confidence.
“Steak,” Jay concurs.
Jimmy nods and Lance folds with, “I’m starving, so I don’t care.”
We walk out of the lobby onto the sidewalk. I text Charles about where we are but also where I want to take the men to eat. Not all the connections I’ve made in Boston are related to business. Tom Ray, the owner of my favorite steakhouse, understands that the menu is important, but discretion is what keeps his highest paying clientele returning.
I expect to be escorted through a side door, away from prying eyes. I expect impeccable service in a separate section of the restaurant that allows business to be conducted while overlooking the tables below. Incognito as I am, doors don’t automatically open for me. Tom Ray is a connection I cultivated. Our goals are similar, to impress the fuck out of the movers and shakers in Boston. To do that, privilege and access must appear seamless. By bringing potential business partners to his restaurant, I showcase how well one of influence might be treated here. It lends me an air of importance and his restaurant a growing patronage willing to pay to be treated . . . well, as royalty.
I could have chosen a less flashy venue, but I want to bring this mutual interrogation onto my turf. Charles pulls up with a stretch SUV limo. He’s out of the vehicle and holding a door open for us a moment later.
The men hesitate.
I question if my plan was a miscalculation. My intention is to maintain my advantage, not to make them feel uncomfortable. Boston is full of less expensive places to eat that might have put them more at ease.
Murray walks over to Charles. They’re similar in stature and build. “So,” Murray says, “that’s how I’d look in a suit.” He puts out his hand. “Murray. Savannah said you helped her out this morning. Any friend of Savannah is a friend of mine.”
Charles removes his dark glasses then shakes Murray’s hand. “That’s a point we agree on. Charles.”
“How long have you been a driver?” Murray asks.
He and Charles fall into a conversation, one so entertaining that Charles forgets one of his duties is to close the door after the rest of us have climbed in.
Jimmy calls out, “Murray, you getting in?”
“Nah,” Murray answers. “I’ll ride up front with Charles.”
I close the door myself.
“A limo,” Lance says, looking around the slick leather interior and opening up every small compartment within his reach. “What do you do?”
“I’m an investor.”
“That’s pretty vague,” Jimmy says, unimpressed. “What kinds of things do you invest in?”
There was no reason to not share some of what I was doing. “Technology companies. It’s the way of the fu
ture.”
Jimmy nodded. “Lance wants me to do everything on the computer now. Our accounting. Taxes. Purchases. In my day deals were made with a handshake over a beer. What happens if this whole Internet thing crashes? What will people do then?”
“I’m pretty sure the Internet is here to stay,” Lance chimes in.
“People,” Jimmy stresses. “Loyal customers. That’s how you grow a business. Not with ads to lure strangers in.”
Lance shakes his head. “You think small, Jimmy. You could have a chain of bars—coast to coast.”
“Why? If you ask me . . . more money, more trouble. I like my life just the way it is.”
I have to admit, Jimmy is growing on me.
Jay pulls at the neck of his T-shirt. “This place we’re going to . . . are we dressed for it? I didn’t bring any nice clothes.”
“The owner is a friend of mine. Jimmy, you’ll like Tom Ray. He says he’d rather do one restaurant right than a hundred half-assed.”
As the limo pulls up to the curb, both Charles and Murray open the back doors.
“May I assist any of you out?” Murray jokes. He reaches for Jimmy’s arm as if assisting an elderly person.
“Keep your damn hands to yourself,” Jimmy snaps.
Lance teases, “The old are so sensitive.”
I smile and exchange a look with Jay. There is laughter in his eyes. Savannah isn’t the only one who can amuse him, he just keeps his sense of humor locked away from the others.
“This way please.” A man with a thick French accent waves from an open door on the side of the building.
Charles and Murray are still talking. I hang back for a moment and ask, “Would you like to join us, Charles?”
He shakes his head.
Murray cocks his head in question. “What do you do while you wait? Now that I’ve seen the place I’m not so sure it’s my scene.”
Charles nods toward a place across the street. “There is a pizza place across the street. I believe they serve beer.”
“Sounds perfect,” Murray says, clapping a hand on his back. “Jimmy, I’ll be next door.”
Rather than argue the point, I trot over to my remaining guests. “Looks like we’ll be four, Julienne.”
“Yes, sir.”
As we enter the restaurant, Jimmy, who’s been mostly quiet, looks around like his head is on a swivel. “This place has more shiny shit than the fancy bank in our nearest town. Hot damn.”
We’re ushered up a staircase to a room that overlooks the main part of the dining room. There’s a fireplace and some dim lighting. The bottom half of the wall is a specially designed frosted glass. We can see without being seen.
“Interesting place,” Jimmy says as he takes a seat. “You a member of the mafia or something?”
Jay sits across the table from him. “If he is, he’s not allowed to say.”
“In the movies, they tell everyone,” Jimmy insists.
Lance takes a seat next to Jimmy. “That’s movie crap, Jimmy.”
I sit and the waiter appears beside me. “What shall we start with? Drinks?”
They all order beers, so I do as well. None use the glass that is delivered along with the bottles so I don’t either.
I considered getting them tipsy before jumping into my line of questioning, but I realize as they chug their beers they aren’t lightweights. That plan could take a while. I don’t have that kind of time.
“Why is Savannah in Boston?” I cock a brow and take a long drag off my beer.
Jimmy grunts. “I hoped you would know. We have no clue. She wouldn’t say.”
Lance takes a mouthful of the expensive cheese off the charcuterie board that suddenly appears. “At least it’s nothing medical.” When Jimmy gives him a dark look, he adds, “Not because I’m thinking about what you all thought was wrong.”
Jay rolls his eyes.
I don’t bother to ask. I’m sure I don’t want to know. “She’s been meeting with a woman named Jana Monroe. Has Savannah ever spoken about her?”
“Nope.” Jimmy downs the rest of his beer and looks around. “Where are the menus?”
“No need for them,” I assure him. “The best of whatever is in the kitchen tonight is the only thing they’ll serve this table.”
Lance waves his fingers in the air and mimics me. I don’t react. He doesn’t matter. I want answers. “Savannah seems to think this woman will help her get settled into the city. She’s relying heavily on someone none of you know. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
Food begins to arrive on little plates. Jimmy studies the thinly sliced meat layered on a cracker. “The portions here sure are small.”
“They’ll bring as many as you request.”
Jimmy raises his hand and calls the waiter over. “You seem like an intelligent young man,” he says.
The waiter looks to me for direction. I motion for him to defer to Jimmy’s instructions.
Jimmy continues, “Look around this table. These are men who work hard and eat real portions. Now unless you want to make a hundred trips back to the kitchen, you might want to keep that in mind as you fill these plates.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter says as if it’s a perfectly appropriate request. Lance looks embarrassed by his uncle. He shouldn’t be. Jimmy is by far not the most demanding person I’ve brought to Tom Ray’s and his request made more sense than any of theirs.
Jimmy bites into his small appetizer then smiles. “Small, but dang, that’s good.”
“I’ll tell the owner you approve,” I add.
After a pause, Jimmy says, “I don’t know who this Monroe woman is, and yes, I don’t like it. One day we’re at Savannah’s grandmother’s funeral. The next she’s telling me I need to find someone at the bar to cover her shifts. I thought she wanted some time off to mourn. Then she up and leaves for Boston.”
“So she was close to her grandmother.”
Jimmy nods. “She raised Savannah. Her mother died in childbirth. Her father moved back home with Savannah. Then he died too. He was a good friend of mine.” He pauses, and his eyes dart away. “That little girl has not had it easy. Her grandmother was a good woman when she was younger, but you know how age can change a person. She wasn’t all there. She gave Savannah a place to live, but no guidance. Savannah was always underfoot in town. Then, I don’t know, maybe seven years ago her grandmother started to decline. Dementia. Her leg was amputated because of diabetes. It was bad. Savannah had to grow up quick and take care of her. I gave her a job at sixteen at the bar, busing tables. I thought I was doing her a favor, on account of knowing her dad and all. I’m the one who made out good. Never had anyone work as hard as she did.”
More plates of appetizers arrived, this time overflowing.
I charge forward with my line of questioning. “What happened to her father?”
“Killed in prison,” Lance announces, his eyes wide at the arrival of more food. He doesn’t notice everyone giving him the evil eye for divulging too much.
My attention swings to Jay. Two prison stories. Were they somehow related?
Without raising his eyes from his plate, Jay mumbles, “He was a good man. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
I had to ask. “What didn’t he deserve?”
Lance shrugged. “Sure, he killed someone, but Murray says it was self-defense. Some out-of-towner started trouble. They say he wasn’t the first to throw a punch, but he was the last. The other guy went down and didn’t get back up.”
Jimmy made a disgusted sound. “We get people who come to town now and then who try to bring in drugs. Niles was determined to keep that element out. I spoke to Niles earlier that day. I told him to let the police handle it, but Niles lost it when he heard the guy was hanging around the school. He didn’t mean to kill him.”
“Sounds like self-defense. That doesn’t make sense.”
Lance sat back after clearing his plate. “It does once you know the guy he killed was a cousin of the chief of
police back then. Niles didn’t stand a chance.”
Jimmy’s face tightens. “Niles was a good man. All he wanted was to get out and get back to Savannah.”
Jay raises his eyes to mine. “Prison is a dangerous place—especially if a person has any good left in them.”
I don’t expect to be moved by what I learn from these men, but I am. The picture they present is one I wish I had some ability to alter.
Jimmy added, “Niles was a big guy. Like Murray. Some people get a kick out of taking on a man like that just to see if they can. Or to prove something to the others. He died in a prison fight. We don’t know what happened, but his death shook the whole town. We booted the police chief and did some housecleaning that was long overdue. Too little too late, though.”
“Does Savannah have any other family?”
Jimmy clears his throat to shut Lance up, but it doesn’t work.
“None that want her.” When Jay shoots a glare at Lance, he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, but it’s true. I heard her grandmother tell her that more than once.”
Real nice.
“We don’t talk ill of the dead,” Jimmy scolds. He makes the sign of the cross and mutters some kind of apology.
Lance rolls his eyes. “Jimmy believes in ghosts. Do you think Old Lady Barre followed us to Boston and is listening right now? Ooooh, I’m scared.”
Jimmy’s eyes narrow. “I’ll give you something to be afraid of.”
Jay coughs, and I catch him hiding another smile.
I sit back and mull over what I learned. For a good number of people, the more I learn about them the less I like them. Savannah is the opposite. Some people would be crushed by the situations her friends described. Not her.
I know what it’s like to feel trapped by circumstance. No one asks a prince what he wants to do when he grows up. I’m not allowed the luxury of choice.
It doesn’t sound as if Savannah was born with much of a choice either. How trapped she must feel. How alone.
She said she isn’t poor, which meant either her grandmother left her money or she saved some for herself. Either way, she has enough to buy a ticket out of her old life. But what is her plan, and what role does Jana Monroe play in it?
Undeniable Bachelor (Bachelor Tower Series Book 3) Page 11