Once Decker has paid and we’ve shuffled along the counter to wait for our orders, we stand far apart, not speaking. I do, however, keep my eyes glued to him, shooting invisible lasers at his face with my mind.
“Got something to say?” he asks, voice low as he nods hello to a middle-aged man in a suit waiting in line.
I drop my voice to match his. “I’ll get it back, you know. One way or another. I willmakeyou give it to me.”
Chuckling, he sidesteps towards me. His spine snaps straight and he folds his arms across his chest. Making himself bigger, buffer, a little more threatening. “Exactly what do you intend tomake megive you? I can think of a few things, but I’d like to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Hmm. Funny.” I snatch my order from the counter, and when another barista sets his coffee beside mine, I swipe that too, and then back away before he has the chance to take it from me.
With an irritating smile on his face, he advances slightly, cocking his head, sizing me up like a predator does its prey in the second before making a meal out of it.
I quirk a brow. “So you know, the intimidation thing you’re trying to pull right now doesn’t work on me.”
“That’s too bad.” He lowers his head, his eyes darkening. “I practiced this look in the mirror all night. Just for you.”
“You thought about me all night?” I say, even as I tamp down on the thrill that thought brings with it. “I didn’t realize I had such an effect on you. What were you thinking about?”
He grins viciously and plucks his coffee from my hand. “Wanna take a guess?”
I scowl. As usual, my sleep was restless. And not justbecause of smoking hot Officer Assface. Though my thoughts drifted to him more than I’d have liked. Specifically how that big hand of his felt around my throat, the squeeze of his fingers, the hardness of his body against mine.Thosethoughts are easy enough to ignore. It was all the other stuff I couldn’t push from my mind.
For weeks now, my dreams have been haunted by wide eyes. Images of my fist wrapped around the hilt of a sharp knife, stabbing down. Blood on my hands. And then running. An invisible threat stalking behind me as I searched for what I stole, what I needed to give back.
I’ve woken up in a sweat more than once. It was barely sunup when I rolled out of bed this morning, knowing I’d need a big dose of caffeine to stay alert. Hence the triple shot.
I very much doubt Decker lost any sleep after our run-in. If he did, then based on how he’s looking at me, myguessis that his thoughts were a lot dirtier.
“You’re despicable,” I mutter into my cup.
Tentatively, I take a sip of my mocha. Ange definitely took my request for extra whipped cream seriously, and I know as I pull my drink away from my mouth that there’s a thick, white line of fluffy goodness edging my upper lip. I make a move to wipe it away, but before I can, Decker’s thumb is there, tracing my lip, touch slow and deliberate, his eyes locked with mine. The smile doesn’t leave his face as he rubs the cream from my skin, then brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it off.
My breath stalls out, and there’s a good chance my mouth drops open a little.
Leaning close, lips to my ear, breath heating my neck, causing a wave of goose bumps to erupt, he says, “You got no fucking idea how despicable I can be. And as for what you think you’re gonna get back? Go ahead and make megive it to you.I’ll enjoy watching you try.”
He pulls away, snagging the small paper bag from the countertop. Eyes still on me, he tugs out his donut and takes a big bite. Pink frosting and sprinkles coat his lips as he throws me another wink. “Have yourself a nice day, Grace.”
As he exits, his shoulders back and his chin high, I seethe.
This should have been easy. Roll into Sinner territory, lose the assholes riding my taillight, lay low for a while, and then move on. Cut and run. But the situation has snowballed into so much more than that. And the desperation, along with the desire to make this all go away, is backing me into a corner. One I’m not sure I can claw my way out of. I need protection, safety, not another threat. I need my brother.
When Ange slides my burrito onto the counter, I pull out a five-dollar bill and smile at her. “Sorry, do you think you can make me another coffee?”
When I get backto the house, Jack is leaning against the counter, scrolling his phone. His wild hair is tugged into a loose knot at the back of his head, his leather cut strewn across the kitchen island.
“Hey,” I say lightly. “What are you up to?”
“Just catching up on the news,” he says, eyes darting to me.
He pockets his device and smiles. But the expression is a far cry from the one he used to give me. All my life, he’d look at me with a full grin, green eyes bright and full of laughter. He was never quite like Axe and Jimmy. Cold and unfeeling, cutthroat. Jack has a big heart, and part of me has always felt that he’s too good for this life.
He’s scary when he wants to be, yes. When his kin or his way of life are threatened. I’ve seen who he can turn into. How fast that temper of his can slip.
Violence. It was bred into him.
When I was young, I was the kind of girl no one fucked with, because I had a scary big brother with a snake-wrapped skull tattooed on his arm. A kid picking on me in elementary school who suddenly couldn’t look me in the eye. The boy who broke my heart in the ninth grade who started avoiding me in the hallways. Then the night Jack saw the bruise on my face, the black and blue marking my ribs. Marks his father left.
I tried to hide it. The way my mom did. The Sinners are a brotherhood. Club first, family second. They ignored the bruises on my mom’s face. Even Jimmy did for a time. But the day Jacksaw what his father had done tome, he let a little of that violence show. Pure fury. A side of my brother I’d never seen before, but the side I knew would keep me safe.
