“How about this?” King says. “You get the fuck out of my town, hell, even my state. And we continue to let you breathe.”
The guy looks down at me and winks. “See you around, chickpea.”
King and Spark don’t take their eyes off them until their truck is a couple of hundred yards down the road. Then Spark turns to me. “You’re done here. Go somewhere else.”
I glance at Kasey’s unfinished bagel and coffee. “We just got our food. We’ll leave when we’re finished eating.”
The side of his jaw twitches.
King shakes his head. “We gotta go, Spark. I’m all for saving the bitch . . . again . . . but let’s ride.”
I glare at him. “Bitch?”
He shrugs, like he really doesn’t give a shit, and wanders back to his bike.
“Those fuckers will do a drive-by in five minutes to see whether you’re still here,” Spark says. “If you won’t look out for your safety, I will.” He grabs our food and dumps it into the garbage.
“Spark, you can’t just toss our lunch.”
As if he didn’t hear me, he pulls out his wallet, slaps a hundred down on the table, and tips his head in the direction of an expensive hipster diner I avoid—because I refuse to pay twenty bucks for eggs Benedict just because it’s got a few flowers and chill flakes strewn around it. “Get yourself over there. Have a proper breakfast. Eat something with fucking protein.”
Kasey’s silent, which means she’s as stunned as I feel.
“You don’t get to come over here and wreck our breakfast.”
He bends over the railing that separates us and puts his lips right next to my ear. “I didn’t wreck your breakfast. I saved your ass from Nazi scumbags who are at best rapists, at worst sex traffickers.” His breath teases the hairs on my neck. I can’t help but shiver at his words. “Now, walk, little chick, before I put you over my shoulder and dump your ass in one of those fancy chairs myself.”
He steps back, his eyes focused on me.
I hate the idea that his glare is making me capitulate, but I feel the need deep in my bones to do as he says, even as I want to refuse.
“Fine. We’ll go, right?” I silently plead with Kasey to nod, which she obligingly does.
We grab our coats off the back of our chairs. I look at the hundred-dollar bill on the table, then move to step away.
“Iris,” Spark growls.
“Fine.” I grab the money, and as I do, it dawns on me that this is the second time he’s paid for my food without taking me on an actual date.
“Hey, Iris,” he shouts as I walk away.
“What?” It comes out rather curt.
His face softens. “You look real pretty.”
I roll my eyes and catch up with Kasey.
As I reach the door of the place he wanted us to go to, I turn and see him watching me. He’s leaning against his bike, and there is something so deliberately measured about him. Something so contained. And yet, with me, I see the spark of fire in his eyes, something rumbling and tumultuous like the threat of a storm.
When we step inside, Kasey looks at me. “You better start talking.”
Once we’re seated and have ordered, I take a gulp of the mimosa I treated myself to on Spark. I don’t know how to begin to explain this. I’m not even sure that I should. But I suddenly feel very alone and need a friend.
“That’s Spark. There’s stuff I haven’t told you, Kasey. My dad’s dead, but he was a member of an Irish crime family. My uncle raised us and looks after my brothers. I saw the president of the Iron Outlaws motorcycle club involved in a hit-and-run that left him dead. The shooting I told you about . . . it wasn’t an accidental drive-by. The club came to speak to me about what I saw. We think they were followed to my house, and I was shot.”
Kasey reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Jesus, Iris. Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”
I shrug and fiddle with the stem of my glass. “It’s not something I’m proud of. I don’t want to be a part of that world.”
“You can’t pick your family.”
“I know. And Spark was there when I was shot, and there was a . . . well . . . spark. I didn’t want there to be. I still don’t want there to be. But he keeps . . . appearing.”
“He’s stalking you?”
Is he? I suppose he is. Yet . . .
“Not really. I mean. He’s like this looming presence just . . . looking out for me. Maybe he feels bad I got shot. We’ve talked a couple of times.” I hold off from telling her about what happened the other night, more because I can’t believe I let him watch me masturbate than any real sense of shame.
Kasey snorts. “Babe. You aren’t seriously that dumb. He wasn’t looking at you in an ‘I feel bad you got shot’ kind of way.”
“Yeah. But he’s not exactly my friend either.”
At this, Kasey actually laughs. “You’re conflating things. Whether he’s your friend has absolutely zero correlation with how much a guy wants to bone you.”
She says the words bone you just as the male server puts down the fanciest-looking eggs Benny I’ve ever seen. “Sorry,” I say to him as he quickly hustles away. I narrow my eyes at Kasey. “I get that, but I honestly don’t know what he wants. I know the Iron Outlaws and my uncle have a very fragile truce. But Spark just bulldozes me through shit, like you saw. I was happy with my cinnamon bun, but here I am eating protein that he paid for.”
Kasey shrugs. “So why are we here?”
I think about Spark’s whispered words. “He said they are traffickers.”
“Jesus,” Kasey splutters. “We should call the police.”
“And tell them what? We have absolutely zero evidence of that. But Spark just wanted us to be out of the way. To be safe.”
This silences us both, and we both eat our food.
“What are you going to do about Spark?” Kasey asks, finally.
“I don’t know,” I whine.
“You like it,” Kasey says, waving her fork in my direction.
“It’s not healthy.”
“It’s lust.”
I shake my head, then cut a large bite of my breakfast and stuff it in my mouth so I don’t do something stupid like agree with her. But I’m sinking into the quagmire of feeling protected for the first time in my life, and it feels . . . precious.
“Have you seen him since the shooting?” Kasey asks.
“He’s up the street from school sometimes . . . follows me home. I hear his bike outside my house late at night. He fixed my porch after it got shot up. We’ve talked. And he showed up at the end of my date with Jason, the driving instructor.” I tell her about that night, how he lectured me on not inviting guys I don’t know home, when he’s been following me home and I barely know him either.
“Wow. It’s a bit messed up, and yet charming.”
“I know. I don’t know whether to call the police or marry the guy.”
Kasey covers her mouth, currently full of food. “Or just sleep with him and get it out of your system.”
I can’t tell her what Cillian asked. I know it’s wrong. I know I shouldn’t. “I wish it could be that simple. But I managed to get clear of that life once, when Dad died. I can’t dip my toe back into it, no matter how impressive the guy asking is.”