That full, pink bottom lip dropped to make room for the straw then closed around it. Beneath his beard, his cheeks hollowed slightly.
Then I was watching with rapt attention as the apple of his throat bobbed while he drank, waiting pretty much on bated breath to see what he would say.
And waiting.
And waiting.
For real? Are his taste buds on a time delay? Do I need to freeze myself with a reminder to find out what he said once-
“That’s fucking delicious.”
My eyes went wide before I could stop them. But I dialed it back in as soon as possible. The smile that showed up at his sincere words was a bit harder to get rid of, but I figured I could allow it.
As long as he couldn’t hear the circus music playing while my heart swung giddily through the air, I would call it an even exchange.
“Thank you,” I said, striving for professional.
Like I wasn’t picturing a montage of faces and pointing my finger in each of them while shouting hah! at the top of my lungs.
He took another sip, nodding to himself. Then he started for the front door, moving with the same purpose he did everything else.
I opened my mouth and closed it. What was I going to do? Tell him to come back and sing my praises some more?
“Not bad, Smoothie Girl,” he called out to me, and my smile was wiped away so fast it transferred to another dimension. “Not bad at all.”
He had good taste.
But good riddance.
He pushed the door open and turned, dark eyes unreadable, another amused tilt to his lips. “By the way,” he said slowly. “Next time you want to spy on someone without being seen. I recommend not moving the blinds so much.”
Then he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the early morning that had spit him out. Leaving nothing behind other than a trace of his clean scent and the dance most of my more positive emotions were still doing.
Oh, and one other thing. Almost forgot.
I jinxed myself, thinking trouble wouldn't find me.
Because it had.
More than six feet of buff trouble with chocolate eyes had certainly found me quick enough.
Chapter Six
Tone
“Bro, are you listening?” Axle asked, tapping me on the shoulder.
No.
I wasn't listening. Not even a bit. I was trying my hardest to ignore his ass.
Two days spent going through every piece of information the club had collected on the Palazzo family, and the hole in my focus remained.
And when I used hole in the singular, I meant it.
Seven Sinners and strong-willed went hand in hand. It wasn't possible to face the odds we did and live otherwise. Being one of us required having the kind of unwavering confidence that could stand firm even in the face of monsters.
But while the lot of us might be tied for will, no one matched my focus.
I hadn't become known as the most levelheaded among us simply because I set aside time each day to meditate and get my thoughts in order.
It was the opposite.
I chose to sacrifice that time because I was focused enough to know how to maintain the balancing act of my life.
The silence was my haven. A sanctuary for my thoughts I built shortly after losing the person I thought would always be by my side.
During that quiet I stole from the rest of the day, I thought about a singular thing on repeat.
My promise.
So I shot Axle a glare he knew very well.
A glare that had him raking his fingers through his hair and disappearing back up the stairs. Leaving me in the basement of his house that I'd called home for the last few days since I've been back.
My own bed was calling after three nights straight of poring over files and barely sleeping, but there were hundreds of them and Axle and I had gone through each one with a fine-toothed comb.
There was nothing to give us a hint as to why five members of the syndicate were wandering around our town.
Or was there something there, and I was missing it because of the five-foot nothing hole in my focus?
I needed to recalibrate.
I needed to focus.
So I set my phone on silent, sat down on the carpeted floor with my legs crossed beneath me, and closed my eyes.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I retreated to my shelter.
Then I cast my mind back and thought about the promise I’d made.
To the last day Katherine and I ever had together, surrounded by nature and sunlight at odds with the finality swiftly approaching us both.
“When I'm gone,” she said softly, draped across my chest while each breath came heavier than the last. “You're not going to be alright. You gave me a piece of your heart knowing how selfish I am. Knowing you wouldn't get it back. I won't say sorry, because I'm not. It kept me going when my own couldn't.”
I could feel the shallow beat of her pulse against mine. It was too faint. Too slow. A constant reminder of how little time was left.
“And you know what, best friend?” She slowly tipped her head up, gracing me with a small, scared smile. “It's okay to not be alright. I know I'm not, but my clock is running out. I was pissed the hell off for a good long while. You know. You were there. You were there afterwards too.”
And I was.
I was there when she threw the charts in the doctor's face and cursed at him until she ran out of words.
I was there when the anger shifted to sadness, wrapping her in a cloak so thick it had hidden the radiant girl I knew, replacing her with someone cold and irritable.
I was there when the sadness crept towards realization which had given way to fear in the next breath. Fear I couldn't banish from her trembling limbs no matter how tight I held her, or how often I wiped her tears.
She narrowed eyes I felt I had looked into nearly every day of my life. “You better not be thinking about me with my nose all snotty and my makeup smudged. That wasn't where I wanted your mind to go.”
“You've never been anything other than beautiful to me,” I told her.
“Liar.” She laughed weakly. “Stop distracting me. We can talk about all this up until...well. You know.”
I knew.
How could I not?
“Right here and now, I want you to promise me something.”
My answer was immediate. “Anything.”
Pinky extended, she met my eyes. “I mean it, Reese. Ride or die. This is officially serious business.”
Our pinkies crossed, the same way they had exactly three times before.
Once, in the park where agreed that nothing would come between us.
Once, after the first time we kissed as teenagers and she told me not to break her heart.
Once, when we were older and I moved on top of her and inside her for the first time, and we swore beneath the stars we would never let the other go.
She looked away from me, swallowing the same mass I felt in my own throat. “Promise me you won't just...turn it all off. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how tempting the old days seem. Promise me that you'll let yourself feel. Laugh. Cry. Even if you have to force it.” She sagged against me, strength already waning. “Promise.”
“I promise.”
My eyes opened, and they were only dry because I was here instead of there.
Between the pines.
Back then, I didn't know how deep the scheme went with Texas to bring me into the fold.
More than once, I tried to get the particulars from him. Never did me any good. He was as tight-lipped as a monk when it came to those details.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I rose from the floor, expecting to be clear. Calm. Collected.
My fists clenched when I realized I wasn't.
Each time I blinked, I saw brown and green eyes flecked with gold. Belonging to someone I had no business thinking about.
I saw sweat-slicked dark
curls stuck to her face and neck.
I saw the smallest woman I'd ever seen in my life moving boxes almost as big as her in the dark.
I saw those narrow shoulders turned away from me—swallowed up by her hoodie—straining beneath the giant-sized chip she was carrying.
Was that why I hadn't been able to get Smoothie Girl out of my mind? Because I recognized the sight of someone else supporting a load too heavy for one person?
It had to be.
She was gorgeous, painfully so. I wasn't prone to distraction, but she reminded me of one of the unearthly women from Caitlin's fantasy books.
Too slight, to be so strong.
Too alluring to look away from.
But I was no stranger to attractive women, and yet she made an impact.
Enough of one to have me disregarding my own manners in order to steal a bit more time in her company.
The possibility she might be with the syndicate had given me a brief pause before being discarded.
She had attitude in spades, but none of the hard edges I would expect from someone working alongside the largest criminal operation on this coast. Besides, once I came to my senses, I knew Tex would've done a thorough background check before letting her rent his spot.
Smoothie Girl had also impressed me.
The vibrant, organized layout. Her ability to stand tall and proud, refusing to give an inch against someone much taller and wider than her. The firm resolve in her voice when she told me about her goals.
Goals that made me wonder who it was she’d lost, because I knew where such iron will came from better than most.
Then there was the captivating way she moved behind the bar like she was right at home.
My blood heated and I shook my head.
Fucking hell, I couldn't afford many more distractions.
Doubly so when said distractions could so easily be thrown over a shoulder and onto a bed-
Fuckkkkk! Enough!
My long legs carried me quickly up the stairs, and I found Axle perched on the side of the sofa in his living room, lit cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth.
At my arrival, he closed the manila folder in his hands and tossed it haphazardly onto the coffee table. Ignoring the dozens of neat columns I’d arranged alphabetically so each item could go back in its proper place.
My jaw jumped, but my irritation stayed tucked away.
For now.
“What's next?” I asked, moving towards the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
I wasn't thirsty, but it allowed me time to get myself in order. Letting Axle know his disorganized antics were getting to me would have him doubling down. He would likely knock something from the table completely just because he knew it would piss me off.
There was an empty, clear plastic cup on the edge of the sink. Stenciled along the side was a small, yellow sun peeking over the horizon. I ignored its presence.
Mostly.
“There is no next,” Axle grumbled while I took a cool sip from my glass. “We've been over all this shit so many times my eyes should be bleeding.”
“Maybe we missed something.”
He took an angry drag, cherry tip glowing. “We haven't missed a damn thing and you know it. If there was so much as a hint to be found about why they were here and what they wanted, we would've found it by now.” Smoke poured from his nose. “Hell, for all we know this really is another one of Rebel's schemes bearing fruit at the worst possible time. Again.”
I grimaced and didn't hide it. “It's possible. Unlikely, but possible.”
Axle kicked his boots up onto the table, crushing a whole stack of folders. “Of course it is. Rebel’s a fucking ghost. We know he was in New Orleans at least a month ago, but that’s it. He could’ve gone anywhere since then, and the only person capable of keeping track of him is also God knows where. Thanks to you, Mr. Mediator.”
Failing to realize how deeply Tanner’s attachment to Sylvia went weighed on me still. There was a chance I could’ve kept the situation from blowing up in his face if I’d done more than observe their interactions, but it hadn’t felt like my place. Now he was probably in some government black ops site, and even our reach only went so far.
“I didn’t ask for that role,” I said quietly.
“Look, you know I’m just giving you shit.” He glanced at me, blue eyes holding no judgment. “You didn’t have to ask for it. Who else was going to fill those shoes? Sure, the core only takes their own council. But as for the rest of us? You’re the one they turn to when they need advice or a level head. You didn’t think Creed named you VP just to handle this Palazzo shit show, did you?”
“I figured it would be temporary.”
His laugh was dry, disbelieving. “God, stop being so fucking humble. I’m gonna be sick. Just don’t start collecting secrets like that cock sucker Rebel and then backstabbing people.” His lips turned up in something closer to a snarl. “It would actually be a bit of a drag to have to kill you.”
I laughed. “Why are we friends again? I’m pretty sure that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Axle blew smoke my direction, but I was too far away for it to matter. “Don’t make this a thing. We still need to get a handle on this syndicate problem. Letting them roam around the city obviously isn’t getting us any results.”
“You’ve got a suggestion.”
“Yeah, one of my favorites. We throw a party. Tonight.”
“You’re joking.”
He shook his head. “Nah, think about it. They have to be here for us, so that’s what we give them. Invite everyone. The syndicate is bound to show up, and maybe we’ll finally get a few answers from them.”
“No killing,” I reminded him, already reaching for my phone to set this in motion.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “You take the fun out of everything.”
Chapter Seven
Naomi
Ignoring someone was difficult enough these days when phones and apps told you when your messages had been delivered and read.
Ignoring your best friend when she was upside down on your bed, kicking her bare feet in the air like a child, was an insurmountable task.
“Come onnnnnnn,” Lynn begged, blonde hair spilling from beneath her blue, motor oil-covered bandana to fall onto the floor. She’d been in that same position long enough the veins in her forehead were starting to stand out.
“You’re going to give yourself a headache if you don’t sit up,” I said, keeping most of my attention on the web pages I was scrolling through on my laptop.
Was confetti on the floor really a good idea for the grand opening? It would look pretty, sparkling in the light.
But confetti was a bit like glitter.
Once it was released, there was no such thing as getting rid of it.
I could easily imagine myself finding pieces littered beneath tables or stuck to walls years from now. Maybe balloons? Except knowing my luck, one would pop at the worst time and I would scream and make a fool out of myself.
“I’m not moving until you agree,” she said, batting long lashes and giving me big, blue puppy-dog eyes. “And you know how bad I am with headaches. So you can either say yes, or you’re going to be holding my hair the rest of the night while I set up camp beside your toilet.”
Groaning, I slammed the lid of my computer closed and looked at her.
Lynn had come straight to my house from the garage she worked at almost an hour ago, covered in black grease and squealing something about a party.
After sending her to the bathroom before she put her filthy hands somewhere that would cost me my security deposit, she’d taken up station on top of my bed, constantly moving around while she pestered me.
I was starting to regret letting her in.
Surprisingly, the party prompting wasn’t the reason. Which didn’t mean it wasn’t getting on my last nerve. But I was getting distracted.
Opening day was tomorrow.
Tomorrow
!
I wanted to do a happy shimmy.
In a bit less than twelve hours, the door would be open to the public and I would be in business. Solo. Fending for myself against the wild, untamed masses who were probably only in my head.
I didn’t know what to expect, but I knew not to get my hopes up for some crazy turnout. The last couple days had seen several people stopping by to talk about the shop and enthusiastically claim they would be there when the door opened. I knew better than to count on that.
A single one of them actually showing up would be a pleasant surprise.
So yeah, the last thing I wanted to think about was a party where I would nurse a single drink most of the night and somehow still wake up feeling awful.
Whether I hit the ground running tomorrow or not, I wanted to do it while feeling at the top of my game. I wanted to have a smile for every person who walked through the door. And if no one showed up, I wanted to be able to smile at the fact the open sign would be on, and I would be holding the reigns of my life for the first time in twenty-five years.
“Ugh.” Lynn sat up with an adorable pout on her full lips. Mechanic by day. Supermodel by night. She twisted around so she could face me dead on. “Why are you so broody tonight?”
I frowned at her. “I’m not broody.”
She rolled her eyes at me. “You totally are. You’re like, Broody McBroodster right now. All you’re missing is a cloak and a tragic backstory, and you could be in a movie.”
“Why a cloak?”
“Because they’re a staple of brooding. Coupled with a wind machine, they add that dramatic flair to really spice things up.”
“You’re ridiculous.” My lips thinned, but I couldn’t stop from laughing when she flapped an imaginary cloak behind her.
“And you’re stalling. Why so contemplative?” Her head tilted, eyes narrowing. “You’re going to knock it out of the park tomorrow, ya know? This town is going to love you, although not as much as me. Obviously. They better not, anyway. I refuse to be replaced.”
“No one can replace you,” I told her honestly, but my stomach clenched.
Because of the real reason I regretted letting her in.
Tempted by a Sinner (Seven Sinners Book 4) Page 6