Shifting Gears (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 1)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Don’t waste it, she’ll only pretend to drink it,” he says.

  I look at Lydia. Focusing on her dish, she doesn’t pay him any mind. Instead, she busies herself by folding the slice of pizza. I wait for her to take a bite, but she pauses before her teeth sink into it. Glancing at Chaz, I lift my beer to my lips and note he looks totally unbothered by her hesitation. Chaz diverts his gaze to her too and I watch, he cocks an eyebrow as she folds the slice and brings it to her lips.

  “So not a fan of beer,” I say, before taking a pull of the ale. Swallowing, I continue. “I’ll add that to the list, right under weird salad eating habits.”

  “That’s nothing, Papi,” Chaz replies, popping a chunk of pineapple in his mouth. “She used to pack a lunch for the bar. Five baby carrots, two stalks of celery and a bottle of water. I can’t believe you got her to agree to pizza.”

  That gets her attention, and she quickly shoots a glare at her buddy.

  “Chaz,” Lydia scolds.

  “Were you on a diet or something?” I ask Lydia, watching as she elbows Chaz in the ribs.

  “Ouch,” he whines. “What was that for?”

  “I told you that in confidence.”

  “Well, excuse me, I thought you told the guy you’re screwing about you—”

  “I’m not screwing him.”

  “Yeah, about that…girlfriend, you’re crazy,” Chaz says, eyeing me up and down. “Do you swing both ways?”

  “Sorry, pal,” I reply. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

  He lifts his beer and salutes me before turning back to Lydia.

  “I like him.”

  “You barely know him,” she mutters under her breath before looking back at the untouched slice of pizza. There’s more to her eating habits than meets the eye but as much as I want to know everything about her, I’m also mindful of the fact she’s not the type of girl you push. She’ll only retreat into that shell of hers and then I’ll be back at square one. So, I turn back to Chaz and ask him about his shows. He begins sharing everything, from the latex boobs he wears to how much he makes a night. It’s not a bad gig, and I quickly learn the guy is bringing home more in a single night than Lydia brings home in a week. With the focus on Chaz, Lydia finally sinks her teeth into the loaded slice of pizza and the conversation comes to a halt as a blissful moan pours from the back of Lydia’s throat. Chaz and I both turn to her as she takes another bite, completely oblivious to the fact we’re both staring at her.

  Reaching for another slice, she acknowledges the silence between us and her eyes dart towards us. A faint blush decorates her cheeks as she drops the slice of pizza into her plate. Picking a piece of meatball off the slice, she pops it into her mouth and shrugs her shoulders, trying to play off her embarrassment.

  “What? Haven’t you ever seen a girl eat pizza before?” She points to Chaz. “That’s a rhetorical question, you. Keep that big mouth of yours shut.”

  Chaz’s eyes widen as he pretends to zip his lips. Satisfied with his code of silence, Lydia looks back at me. A smile spreads across my lips as I lean forward and swipe my thumb over the corner of my mouth where a drop of sauce sits. She stares at me quietly as I lick the sauce from my finger.

  “What?” I mock. “Haven’t you ever seen a man lick the sauce off his fingers before?”

  “Cute,” she says, treating me to one of her infamous eye rolls.

  “Wolf is right, everything tastes better here,” I say, licking my lips. The pink of her cheeks deepens as she grabs the white paper bag containing the calzone and takes it out. I watch as she unwraps the foil, revealing a fluffy looking piece of bread shaped as a half-moon. She cuts it into three pieces and cheese oozes from the sides as she puts one piece into my dish.

  “Eat,” she challenges.

  Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from her and look at the messy bread in my dish. Not sure what to do with this thing, I look at Chaz. I expect him to pull out a shovel for all the cheese and perform some sort of trick like Wolf did when he twirled the pasta with a fork and spoon, but to my surprise, he simply uses his hands to guide the calzone to his mouth.

  “Well?” Lydia says.

  Tearing my gaze away from Chaz, I reach for the calzone. Cheese drips onto my fingers as I keep my eyes locked with Lydia’s and take a bite. A burst of flavor instantly awakens my taste buds and before I can stop myself, I moan my approval. Lydia’s eyes become hooded and she takes the beer out of Chaz’s hands. I’d laugh if my mouth wasn’t full of cheese. Instead, I watch her guzzle it down and plant a satisfied smirk on my lips.

  The food is good here in New York, and the company is fucking great.

  The view...well, that’s just fucking spectacular.

  Chaz clears his throat, reminding us both that he’s still there and the conversation picks up. We devour the calzone and when our bellies are full, the three of us clean up the kitchen.

  In the short time, we spend together, I learn a lot about Chaz, and I begin to understand why Lydia is so protective of him. The guy has suffered through some serious shit. But what got my blood boiling more than anything, though, was the story he shared of how he was brutally victimized by a bunch of thugs walking to his car after a show. I hope to God he never finds himself in that situation again, but should he ever need someone to beat the shit out of a bunch of ignorant cunts, I’m his guy. I was taught to mind my business in situations that are none of my concern, but I’d never turn my back on someone being bullied simply because he doesn’t fit some bullshit mold society tries to shove down our throats. So, he’s gay. Big fucking deal. He ain’t bothering anyone. He ain’t asking you to watch him and his partner. He’s looking for happiness and to make an honest living. He’s looking for someone to love him. For the fucking world to accept him. That doesn’t warrant abuse.

  “Give me your phone,” I say, holding out my hand. He laughs nervously and he and Lydia exchange a weary look. “I’m not going to look at anything,” I assure him. “I’m just going to store my number. If you’re ever in a jam, I want you to call me.”

  “Thanks, Papi, but I can handle myself.”

  I nod.

  “I don’t doubt that,” I tell him. “But you shouldn’t have to, and I wouldn’t mind rearranging someone’s face on your behalf. It would be my honor.”

  He stares at me for a moment before reaching into his pocket for his phone. Dropping it into my hand he looks at Lydia.

  “If you don’t marry him, I’m breaking up with you.”

  “I already proposed and offered to give her a few kids,” I tease, punching my digits into his phone.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Chaz cheers.

  “No one’s getting married and we’re certainly not having any kids,” Lydia argues. I hand Chaz the phone and lean back against the couch. Draping my arm around Lydia’s shoulders, I drag her closer to me.

  “Too soon?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Alright, I’ll try to be patient,” I relent, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head. She doesn’t pull away and I tally the gesture as another win.

  “So, Lydia told me a bit about you,” Chaz says and a grin spreads across my lips as she rolls her eyes.

  “Did she, now?”

  “Yeah, she told me all about the night you two got freaky. I should thank you, that was the most pleasant she’s been since I met her. I vote for you two to get it on as much as possible. ‘Chipper Lydia’ is so much more enjoyable than ‘Cranky Lydia’.

  “Funny, I couldn’t agree more.”

  “I am not cranky,” Lydia argues, pouting slightly.

  “You’re horrid,” Chaz insists.

  Instead of fighting with him, she stares at my other hand that rests on my thigh and hesitates a beat before she slowly reaches for it. I’d give anything to know what’s running through her head, but I’m too fearful of asking because I don’t want her to stop. She intertwines her fingers with mine and it’s almost as if she’s testing to see if
they fit…if we fit.

  Another win.

  “Lydia says you’re sticking around, that true?”

  Before I can address the question, Lydia lifts her eyes to mine.

  “Yeah, for the time being,” I say softly. “I’ve got some loose ends back in Texas I’ll need to tie up eventually, but New York is looking more and more promising.”

  “Is that so?” she whispers.

  “Yeah, it sure is.”

  Her gaze lowers to my lips and I forget that Chaz is watching the entire exchange or that he’s probably taking pictures with his phone because he’s that type. I lean closer to her, my forehead resting against hers. The tip of her nose brushes mine and her breath catches.

  I’m about to go in for the kiss.

  To claim that fucking mouth as mine when my phone rings.

  “So close!” Chaz groans.

  The moment is quickly ruined, and Lydia inches away from me, untangling our joined hands. If I didn’t give my word to Riggs, I would ignore the fucking thing and pull her onto my lap. I’d take her mouth and kiss her until she begged for air.

  Being noble is a fucking bitch.

  Lifting my hips, I grab the phone from my pocket.

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to take this,” I say, pushing off the couch. Swiping my thumb across the screen, I accept the call and lift the phone to my ear as I excuse myself to the closest bedroom. “Hello?”

  Scout’s familiar voice booms through the line.

  “Bash,” he greets. “Long time, no talk.”

  “It’s only been a couple of days,” I reply, taking a seat on the foot of the bed. “Miss me, already?”

  “You know things aren’t the same without you. We’re a unit, son when one of us is missing in action, we’re not whole.” His words immediately spark some guilt. I remind myself of my role within the Charon club and how I never even sat at their table.

  “I’m sure you guys are getting along just fine,” I say, my tone of voice tenser than I’d prefer. “I ran into Needles earlier. He mentioned that he’s been in contact with you.”

  “Yeah, he’s got some issues he needs help dealing with and it’s not something we can wrap up in a couple of days so he’s bringing his daughter back here until we can get a handle on the situation. But I didn’t call to shoot the breeze about Needles, Bash. I called to see how you were doing out there.”

  I think about that for a moment as I glance around the bare bedroom. Lydia and Chaz’s laughter travels from the living room and a small smile ticks the corners of my mouth. It’s a beautiful sound, and it makes me want to wrap up the call so I can experience it in the flesh.

  “Wolf treating you good?” Scout questions. “I hear he can be a hard ass—”

  “Wolf is fine,” I interrupt. “He’s definitely a straight shooter, but I think he’s just looking to keep his club thriving and his family safe. There’s something I gotta tell you, though.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’m wearing their colors,” I blurt.

  The line goes silent and I immediately think Scout’s hung up. A second later he clears his throat and replies.

  “So, you made up your mind then?”

  “No, it’s not like that. The Knights have a lot of irons in the fire and they need an extra pair of hands to juggle them all. Wolf and I agreed I’d prospect for thirty days and then we’ll revisit the situation. If I feel New York isn’t the right fit, then I’ll come home.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize I’m kidding myself and in turn, I’m also stringing Scout along and that’s not something he deserves. It’s only been a couple of days and I already know for certain if the threat against Lauren isn’t neutralized in thirty days, I’m not going anywhere and more importantly I don’t know that I can walk away from Lydia again. How can I claim to want to know everything about her and at the same time entertain the idea of leaving her?

  “I see,” Scout says. “Well, you just take whatever time you need to figure out what the right move is and know I’ll respect whatever decision you come to.”

  “I appreciate that, Scout.”

  “I had Mac go by your ma’s house. He cleaned out the fridge and took whatever mail was in the mailbox. Marie is going to take it to the post office in the morning and send it over to you. I don’t know if you plan on leaving it vacant or what but if you want, I can send some of the guys to pack everything up.”

  I scratch my jaw as I process his offer. Burying my mother was hard enough, I don’t know that I can sift through her belongings and decide what stays and what goes. I ran from the burden of her death and if I’m being honest with myself, I’m still running from it.

  “I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with the house, but maybe it’s not such a bad idea to have someone go in and clear it out,” I say hoarsely. “I don’t know that I can go through her stuff,” I admit.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Not trusting my voice, I foolishly nod in response even though I know he can’t see me. Silence settles between us for a moment before he clears his throat again and I can picture him scratching his beard in deep thought. Finally, I find my voice and the courage to speak.

  “Hey…Scout…”

  “Yes?”

  “Am I doing the right thing?”

  “As far as the house?”

  “Yeah,” I rasp. “Do you think she’d be hurt knowing I didn’t take the time to do it myself?”

  He takes a moment to answer.

  “The only hurt your mother would have felt is if she knew her only son never found happiness. That’s all she wanted for you, Jake,” he says. “She’ll rest easy when she’s sure you’ve found your way.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I do, so if you want to honor your mother, then make her wish come true. Make a life for yourself. Whether that’s here in Texas, or there in New York, it won’t matter so long as you’re happy.”

  I don’t know what makes me lift my head, but the moment I do, my eyes connect with Lydia’s. Standing in the doorway of the bedroom, she cocks her head to the side, and I swear to God the weight that was resting on my chest a second ago, lifts.

  I’m not a man who believes in signs but if I was, I think I’d believe the woman standing before me was sent from heaven by a beautiful angel.

  An angel I once called mom.

  -Fourteen-

  Lydia

  “Everything okay?” I question once Bash ends his call. Dropping the phone on the bed beside him, he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. I watch him lower his head into his hands, his shoulders slumping as he draws in a deep breath.

  We may just be getting to know one another but it’s easy to recognize something is off with him. The playful attitude he possessed before the phone call is nowhere to be found and this version of the man is just as endearing because I suddenly want to wrap him in my arms and assure him that whatever is plaguing him will pass. But more than anything, I just want to be the one who brings back his smile.

  Let’s not over analyze any of that, okay. I’m chalking up my newfound appreciation for the man to be a result of him being so kind to Chaz. We don’t live in a world where people accept one another for who they are. We are all too quick to throw stones, so it’s refreshing to see a man I didn’t expect to be so welcoming and understanding, not only be just that but also genuinely wonderful to another human.

  Before I can think better of my actions, I pad towards him, watching as he draws his hands away from his face. He lifts his head slightly and our eyes lock. Crooking his finger, he beckons me closer and I realize the glint of humor and mischief that I find both, annoying and completely irresistible, isn’t there anymore either. Even if I was of sound mind, which we all know I’m not, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from going to him.

  Halfway towards him, he reaches out and takes my hand, gently tugging me between his legs. His hands move to my hips and he toys with the hem of
my t-shirt.

  “Where’s Chaz?” he questions.

  “He had to leave for his show,” I reply, fighting the urge to run my fingers over his head. Instead, I place them on his shoulders and draw in a sharp breath, steadying myself. I ignore the nervous energy coursing through me as his cologne assaults my senses and force myself to stay in the moment.

  “He told me to thank you for dinner and made me promise not to fuck this up,” I murmur, cringing inwardly, knowing I put those words out in the universe and now I can’t take them back.

  It’s now or never.

  Do or die.

  I can either be the girl who lives the rest of her life in the shadows of her past or I can be the woman who takes chances because she knows men like Bash don’t come around often and some women spend their whole lives searching for a man who looks at them the way he looks at me.

  “This?” he questions, tearing those light eyes from my shirt. They lock with mine and my stomach does a somersault.

  Swallowing, I struggle to remind myself of all the reasons I should walk away from this man but fail miserably. For the life of me, I can’t find it in me to care. All I want is to give in, to allow myself to feel. To not be alone. To take this man for what he is…an unexpected gift.

  “Us,” I clarify hoarsely.

  “I like him, Lydia, and not because he’s pushing you into my arms. I like him because he obviously cares about you.”

  I don’t know what it is about those words that make my eyes blur with tears. Maybe I like the idea of someone caring for me or maybe it’s just the truth they carry. I left Declan. I made a life for myself here and despite my best efforts to close myself off from the world, I’ve somehow put roots down here. I made a friend. I found a job. I even managed to snag an invite to a family dinner. Most of all, I found this man and for whatever reason, he wants me. I slept with him and went on a date with him. Two, actually and yes, I’ll admit they were dates. While I’m very aware all this may change, I can still pretend I’m worthy of his attention for the time being.