“Be safe,” he said as I started the engine.
“Be careful, Rancor.” I used his road name, hoping he’d take the subtle hint. I couldn’t tell him what was going on, but I could at least plant the seed he needed to watch himself.
His brows furrowed and he said nothing for the longest time. Then he nodded his head slowly. “Yeah, baby. I will.”
I nodded again, put the car in gear, and pulled away. My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel as I fought to keep the vehicle steady on the road. What would Reeves do when he realized only one device sat inside the compound and that he probably couldn’t hear a Goddamned thing on it? Would he make good on his threats? And what would Marcus do when he discovered what I’d done? The thought of seeing betrayal replace that careful tenderness in his eyes was almost worse than anything Reeves could do to me.
I had two impossible choices. As I drove away from the compound, rain began to fall, gentle drops that quickly became a downpour, matching the storm raging inside me. I drove awayfrom perhaps the only person who could help me, toward a future I couldn’t predict and choices I didn’t want to make. And I had absolutely no idea what to do next.
Chapter Eight
Cora
Making myself leave the relative safety of my car to enter the café on Music Row felt like climbing the steps to the gallows. Through the rain-streaked windshield I stared at the entrance. Warm light spilled from its windows onto the wet pavement outside, promising comfort I knew I didn’t deserve and wouldn’t receive as long as thisthingwas hanging over me. I just didn’t know what to do.
I spotted Marcus through the glass, his broad shoulders, shaved head, and thick, dark beard unmistakable even in the dim interior. He’d taken a corner table, his back to the wall. Likely so he could have eyes on the door. My stomach twisted as I killed the engine. Somehow, facing him here felt worse than when I’d left the compound yesterday with that damn listening device already broadcasting everything to Reeves. Assuming any noise from the fridge didn’t mask conversations.
I sat for a moment, trying to talk myself into continuing on. Marcus had requested to meet here. He’d sent a text with the name of the restaurant, politely asking to meet. Normally I’d have jumped at the chance, but my conscience rode me hard. What I’d done kept me awake, staring at my ceiling all night while guilt gnawed at my insides. I knew what I’d done was wrong.
When I finally pushed open the door of my vehicle, the rain hit me in cold, heavy drops. I didn’t bother with an umbrella, letting the rain soak into my hair and dampen my shoulders. Maybe I wanted the discomfort as some small penance for what I’d done.
The bell above the café door jingled as I entered,announcing my arrival to a room of strangers who barely looked up from their laptops and conversations. The place was kind of a local hangout as well as a popular place for tourists to listen to live music. A musician in the corner strummed something slow and melancholy on an acoustic guitar, the notes mingling with the hiss of the espresso machine and murmured conversations. The air smelled of coffee and cinnamon, of rain-damp clothing and the faint sweetness of pastries warming in the display case.
Marcus watched me approach, his dark eyes giving nothing away. He’d chosen a small table, creating an intimate setting in an otherwise very public place.
“Hey,” I said, the word coming out breathier than I intended. I slid into the chair opposite him, wiping rain from my face with shaking hands.
“Cora.” Just my name, but it carried a weight, an acknowledgment. If he noticed I couldn’t quite meet his gaze, he didn’t call me out.
A server appeared at our table, a girl with multiple piercings and rainbow-tipped hair. “Know what I can get you?” she asked, the tablet in her hands to take our order at the ready.
“Two coffees,” Marcus said before I could answer. “Hers with cream, no sugar.” My head jerked up at that. He’d noticed how I took my coffee. I couldn’t remember ever telling him that preference.
“Food?” the server asked.
“No, thank you,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. The thought of food made my stomach clench tighter.
Marcus’s gaze never left me as the server walked away. Behind him, a couple argued in hushed tones over a shared muffin. To our left, a man in a rumpled suit tapped furiously at his laptop keys. Normal people doing normal things, while I sat across from a man I’d betrayed, wondering if he already knew and, if he did, what he intended to do to me because of it. I’d loveto say the only reason I’d come was because he’d named a public place, but the truth was, I’d have come anyway. I deserved to be tortured for what I’d done so this had been a form of self torture, I guess.
“You look tired,” he said, breaking the silence between us.
I forced a smile that felt like cracked glass on my face. “Didn’t sleep much.”
“Bad dreams?” There was something in his tone that made me wonder if this was more than casual conversation.
“Something like that.” I twisted my hands in my lap, hidden beneath the table. “How are things at the compound?”
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Quiet.”
The server returned with our coffees, setting them down with a gentleclinkof ceramic on wood. I wrapped my cold fingers around the warm mug, grateful for something to hold onto.
“Knight’s been busy,” Marcus continued once the server left. “Security upgrades. New cameras and such.” He took a deliberate sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of his mug.
Outside, the rain intensified, beating against the windows in heavy sheets. I took a sip of coffee to hide my expression. Such a small detail, him knowing how I took my coffee. It shouldn’t have mattered, but the weight of guilt pressed harder against my chest at his kindness.
“Your sage still alive?” he asked, the question catching me off guard with its normalcy.
“Yes,” I said, an unexpected warmth blooming in my chest at the thought of the plant sitting in my kitchen window. “It’s actually doing well. I was worried I’d kill it.”
