Josh raised his hands in surrender. “Listen, I’m not betraying their trust. If they wanted both of you there, they would have invited you.”
“But you’re there,” Shaun spat. “How is that fair?”
Josh snickered. “To be honest, I earned my spot after all the labour I’ve done for them.”
“What labour is that?” I inquired, slicing into my chicken cutlet with a knife.
“Well,” he drawled dramatically, keeping us on edge. “There was that one time where they kidnapped me when I was high as fuck so they could break into someone’s house and have me sift through their laptop for intel. Not to mention, my poor back was used like a stepping stone. Ergo, I’ve put in the work and deserve to be in the group chat. The rest of you have done nothing of the sort. Therefore, you aren’t granted the honour of being there. Plain and simple.”
I remembered Josh recounting that to me last year. It made me chuckle then and it made me chuckle now.
Cade and Shaun weren’t happy. The latter cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair. “Fine. At least tell us what you talk about in this group chat.”
Josh clicked his tongue and picked up his club sandwich. “Why? Afraid that they’re talking shit about you guys?”
“Are they?” Cade hedged.
“Nah.” Josh took a bite and chewed thoughtfully, dragging it out while both men stared at him in impatience. “But I will tell you this one piece of info. There’s this guy named Idris that Hera recently met and I’m pretty sure they’re going on a date soon.”
Cade threw an alarmed glance at Shaun.
Who had completely frozen over.
I was about to say something when my eyes unceremoniously caught a figure leaving the back offices of MacGregor before blending into the crowd and heading towards the exit leading to the side alleyway.
It was a split second.
But I caughthim.
I would recognize that face anywhere.
What were the odds that I would see him here, after all these years, on an unassuming weekend afternoon in a crowded bar, appearing like a ghost from my past?
I scraped my chair back and stood up, telling my friends, “I’ll be back.”
They called after me, but I was already power-walking after him. Afraid that if I wasn’t fast enough, he’d slip through my fingers and disappear for longer this time.
The noise from MacGregor drowned in the background as my vision became laser-focused. My attention was solely on his broad back, cloaked in a long black coat.
As I flung open the exit door and sped after him, my heart pounded and the cold fall air nipped at my skin. The alleyway was deserted, save for an inconspicuous charcoal sedan.
I caught up to him right as he neared the car and hollered his name, “Donovan!”
He stiffened, pausing.
A hand went to his waistband, probably to cradle his gun, before he whirled around and pinned me with a wary gaze.
He stared at me like he was seeing a stranger.
It took three seconds for recognition to flash in his expression. “Hunter?”
I smiled and advanced towards him. “Hey, Don.”
A slow smile spread across his face in reciprocation.
Donovan Shaw still had that larger-than-life demeanour and intimidating stature to him. Gone were the boyish features I remembered. Now they were refined with age. His brown eyes harboured steeliness, like he’d seen much of life and wasn’t impressed, and he sported a short brown beard, a hint unkempt like his tousled hair. And that ever-present gangster swagger of his remained as he crossed the six feet separating us and dragged me into his arms for a brotherly hug.
“Hey, Hunt.” He clapped my back once, strongly. “Didn’t recognize you there for a moment. When did you get so tall, kid?”
