Page 68 of The Bonds We Break

Why did Saint say he trusted me with his sister?

Why did I treat her like some problem that needed solving?

And why, oh why, do I want to fuck her all over again today?

Halo taps the polished wood of the bar. “You didn’t rape her, did you? Because, listen, you might be my prez and all, but that kind of fucked-up shit needs consequences.”

“No. I didn’t rape her. In fact, she made a point of telling me she consented.”

Halo looks visibly relieved. “Thank fuck. I wasn’t looking forward to beating your ass, Prez, but I would have.”

“Truth?” I ask him.

“Yeah. I would have kicked your ass.”

I shake my head. “No. Can I tell you something? I may have bitten off more than I can chew with Rae Miller. You ever been with a woman approximately three hundred times smarter than you?”

Halo laughs. “She’s clever, huh?”

“Quotes Shakespeare. Has a psychology degree. Or maybe she has more than one of them. Who the fuck knows. She probably has a doctorate or some shit.”

“Could see that in the way she handled herself and you yesterday. You think she’s playing you?”

I think about that question for a good long moment. “‘I don’t know’ is the God’s honest truth. She’s exactly where I want her. And yet…”

Halo grins. “And yet, what?”

I slug some more of my coffee. “It strikes me that she’s there because she’s decided she wants to be, not because I forced her.” I keep my other suspicion from him. That in the five minutes I allowed her to talk to Saint, they came up with a plan of their own. One where the two of them get the better of me.

“What’s your endgame here, Prez? Because the men are wondering.”

“Not all the men are wondering,” I say more smugly than I actually feel.

Now Halo does laugh. “The day you’re on the same side as Niro and Bates, you’re on the wrong side of history. But seriously, what is your end game?”

“I wish I never had to see Saint’s face again.”

“Well, you should have just killed him when he was brought back here. You do anything less than live up to your agreement to let him back into the club, you’re going to look weak.”

I turn to face my road captain. “Aren’t you just a bundle of fucking joy?”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but I’ll always tell you how it is. Tell you straight when you’re making a mistake. Let this go, Prez. Let the girl go. We can go to the strip club tonight, get a private room. Bang her out of your system.”

I’m about to tell him I’m in. But as quickly as the idea of a darkened room and two of the club girls pops into my head, it vanishes and is replaced by a handwritten list and Rae Miller’s smile.

Halo stands and squeezes my shoulder. “Acknowledge that shit, Prez. Saint has got you making reckless decisions. And I’m starting to think the girl’s got you on the run. Tied up in knots.”

She fucking has. “Good chat,” I say with as much sarcasm as I can find this early in the morning.

I head into my office and see Dad’s cut in its frame, like I do every morning. I used to tap it. For good luck, out of respect, or out of habit, I can no longer remember.

I sit at the desk and start to deal with all the shit I need to. Signing off on our quarterly accounts, replying to a text from Switch about a possible prospect. Everything seems ... boring.

And I know why.

Rae fucking Miller.

It feels like something almost cosmically ordained, the way our two lives have collided. The way she makes me feel like I’m on some predetermined path to tragedy with her Shakespearean quotes battles with the idea that she’s also my path to salvation.