The scowl he shot my way only made me smirk harder. I downed the rest of the bourbon while he went to tell his fellow bartender he’d be back in a bit.
Chapter Two
Pax
Crisp, cool night air enveloped me as soon as I pushed open the door leading to the roof. After the brutal winter we’d had, spring was struggling to take hold and even this late in May, the nights were still pretty chilly. It was a slow enough night that my fellow bartender had been happy to send me on break and collect all the tips for himself. I’d slipped into the track pants and hoodie I’d worn over my work uniform, when Mace said it would be best if we had this conversation where we wouldn’t be disturbed. I could feel Mace behind me like his presence was a physical force pressing against me. He’d been quiet as we made our way through the underground tunnel that led to the apartment building Vivian owned and where most of us Spritz employees lived, all the way up the elevator ride to the fifth floor and the stairs that led to this door.
I could have taken him to my apartment, but that seemed dangerous. Most people would probably think coming to an isolated place with the Sergeant-at-Arms from an Iron Heretics MC chapter was dangerous, period, but Mace had never been a danger to me that way, though. Ever since we met, we’d been skirting the line between flirting and actually doing something about the attraction that I was positive wasn’t just one-sided. The danger lay in me liking the way he looked at me a little too much, while knowing that he looked at everyone that way. Mace had never had a relationship in his life—not a real one—and while we would probably be a match made in fuck-buddy heaven, I’d been trying to save myself from that particular scernario for as long as possible.
I hadn’t taken clients since I was tortured for information about a member of Mace’s club last year. Hadn’t had sex at all, actually. Sometimes I thought I’d rather not have my next foray between the sheets be as just another notch in someone’s bedpost, and sometimes I thought maybe it would be better that way. It’s not like I was the poster boy for healthy relationships and at least I trusted Mace. The decision to stop being an escort, a prostitute, at Spritz had been an easy one. I couldn’t imagine allowing myself to be that vulnerable with a man I didn’t really know ever again.
“You’re thinking awfully hard,” Mace said, leaning his elbow on the ledge surrounding the outside of the building. His green eyes were locked on my face. He had a layer of dark stubble on his jawline and his chin-length dark hair was tucked behind his ears. He’d cut it recently, and I did my best to ignore the thought it might have been because of how much I’d teased him about his man bun.
The familiar sounds of the city drifted up from the streets below. I crossed my arms and rested my elbows on the ledge, close enough to him that I could feel the heat from his body. He stepped closer, his chest brushing my shoulder and I turned my face to look at him. I really liked that he was a couple inches taller than me. “What did you want to talk about?” I had a feeling I knew and it was turning my empty stomach sour. I should have eaten before my shift, but despite my sleep being restless, I couldn’t find the energy or motivation to drag myself out of bed for a minute longer than it took me to shower, dress, and get over to Spritz. That was becoming a habit I wasn’t sure how to break. Before...everything...I was always up by midday—running errands, cleaning, hitting the gym—and now I just, couldn’t.
On cue, my stomach rumbled and Mace’s brows scrunched together.
“Have you had dinner?”
“No.”
“How long a break can you take?”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re not feeding me dinner.”
Mace’s eyelids lowered and his signature smirk curled up one side of his lips. “Oh, I think you’d let me if I asked just right.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I turned my face away from him as heat infused my cheeks.
“Pax.” He moved even closer and damn, if the warmth of his solid chest pressed against my side didn’t feel like a balm.
“I’ll grab something before I go back,” I told the darkness around us instead of looking back at him. There was a security light attached by the door, but here on the edge, with no moon to speak of, we were shrouded in shadow. I hoped that meant that he missed my blush.
“Alright. You going to kick my ass if I ask for evidence of that?”
A low chuckle spilled out of my throat. Even when I’d been lifting weights and working out faithfully, there was no reality where I could kick Mace’s ass. “Maybe.”
He nudged me, bumping his chest against my arm. “Okay.” He sighed. “I need to show you something and I just need you to say yes or no.” Mace reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a folded picture. From the back, it looked like any innocent 4x6 that you could have developed at your choice of grocery or drug store anywhere. It wasn’t that, though. He’d promised me this. Promised me that the man that had hurt me would pay for it. At the time, those words were one of the only things holding together all my broken pieces, but on some level, I hadn’t truly believed him. Almost a year later and there was no room for doubt anymore. The look on his face told me all I needed to know.
He was going to keep his promise.
My stomach clenched. Unfolding my arms, I gripped the ledge, bracing myself and letting the cold bite of stone ground me in the here and now. A year later and I was still afraid. Afraid that a mere glimpse at the piece of paper he was holding would send me careening back to that night. I visited it enough in my nightmares. I didn’t want to have to live it in my waking hours too.
When his voice came, it was low, soft. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to look—”
I shook my head. “I don’t, but I will.”
He nodded. “I want you to understand something, Pax. This man, he’s a monster, but he’s also a professional. Finding him wasn’t easy, even with some very powerful help. There was no way you could have known what he was up to.”
I nodded, appreciating his words more than I could say. Pulling in a deep breath, I let go of the ledge and turned to Mace. “Okay. Show me.”
His eyes stayed on my face when he turned the picture around. He held it so the security light illuminated it completely, and for a moment, I lost my breath.
“It’s him.”
I turned my face away, back out into the night, staring off into the darkness and letting my eyes skip from window to window on all the buildings lining both sides of the street beyond. I wasn’t really seeing them though, my mind was locked onto the image of dark blond hair, blue eyes, and the kind of smile that belonged on the boy next door. The kind that led lambs to slaughter.
The flick of a zippo lighter brought my gaze back to Mace. He’d taken a couple steps back from me and was holding the picture on one corner as he lit the other with the flame from a silver lighter with a wolf’s head engraved on the side.
Fire caught and spread, making the paper—making his face—twist and curl, writhing in its death throes as the picture was eaten away. When the flames got close to his fingers, Mace let go and what was left of the photo floated to the ground. We both watched for a moment, letting the fire turn the photo to ash. Mace stepped on the still glowing fibers, stomping them out with the thick sole of his motorcycle boot.