Page 4

THREE

JAKE

ROYCE

I tried to stay away tonight.

I really did. It hit me last week, when I was sitting in my car, watching Nicolette’s house from just down the street, hoping for a sliver to appear in her dark windows… it hit me that I can’t keep doing this.

I’m obsessed with a woman I can’t have. It’s as simple as that. I think about her constantly. I fantasize over her more than that, and it’s fucking sick. Since I offered her the waitressing job at the Playground, I haven’t said more than two words to her. For fuck’s sake, she’s off-limits as one of my employees.

Three months now, I’ve convinced myself that I was only watching over her because I sensed she needed it. That she was in trouble. But what if I ’m the trouble that she can’t escape?

No. I told myself that I needed to stop. If she really is in danger, she’s affiliated with the Sinners now. Even if I’m not the one to protect her, we have at least a hundred soldiers in Springfield who are loyal to the organization. That’s not even counting the inner circle. Nicolette might now have Link’s mark on her—only full-fledged members of the syndicate get the devil horns and tail—but by working at our club, she’s one of ours.

Untouchable to anyone in town who might want to hurt her, definitely, but even more off-limits to me .

I know better. Considering how much trouble a McIntyre has gotten into for obsessing over the wrong woman… I know better. And, sure, it took me a few months to accept that I needed to give up on torturing myself by watching her, getting close enough that I can catch a whiff of her perfume before slipping past her as she waits tables. Spending hours at a time in my car, imagining what she could be doing in that house of hers alone… because, damn it, she better be alone—and the jealousy that washes over me when I think about another man touching her was the nail in the coffin for me.

I had to back off. Before I fucked up and did something I’d regret, I needed to leave her alone.

That lasted six fucking days. Six fucking days of blue balls, of snapping at All-Thumbs and Banks when I needed to mediate some stupid fucking argument the soldiers was having, of going home alone because it was too damn tempting to pick up a date—and the one time I tried, my stomach twisted so tightly because she was Nicolette fucking Williams that I thought I was going to hurl.

The nausea only disappeared when I slipped into my apartment, stripped off my clothes, pulled up a candid shot I took of Nicolette smiling at some no-name wallet, and jerked my cock until I was shooting my load down the drain. With one hand braced against the glass shower stall, the other gripping my erection tightly, I knew I was in even more trouble when I realized that some innocent blonde who existed so far out of my reach isn’t just the reason I’ve gotten hard these last three months.

Fuck. She’s the reason I come. The reason I got any release, any pleasure, and relief at all from the weight of my shoulders. Being the underboss is my job, it’s my life , and that was the only thing that mattered to me… until her .

I still don’t know why I fixated on this one woman. Honestly? I don’t want to know why. The logical side of my brain says it has to do with watching Link and Ava. Deep down, I want a love like that. A love that defies reason and rationality, that can survive a fifteen-year separation and still have the two of them utterly devoted to each other now.

My whole life, I’ve equated success with money and power. I still do. But now? I want what Link has. I want a woman who will put up with all the bullshit that comes with being in the life, know exactly what kind of man I am, and still willingly sleep next to a man who spent the evening cleaning up a murder scene.

Is that Nicolette Williams? I don’t know. But so long as she’s my employee, I’m not going to find out.

So I decided to go cold turkey. And, like I said, that lasted about six damn days—and when I do see her again, it’s not even my fault.

It’s Link’s. Well, no—it’s more complicated than that, but because I don’t want to think about that until I’m sitting across from my boss and I’m forced to, I blame Link.

And I do it with a crooked smile.

It isn’t often that I get a summons to the Playground. Considering how often I spend my evenings at our club—and, if not our club, than the Sinners property attached to it—he doesn’t have to call me over. I’m usually here. It’s Link who only comes to make an appearance, to keep his men, customers, and girls in line.

Since his marriage to Ava Monroe, Link has better things to do than sip his drink while casting a dark eye over his domain. Of course. If I had a wife like that… I wouldn’t be wasting my time here, either. There are still a thousand other things that take up his time—as the mafia leader, he’s even busier than I am—but when he could go home to Ava or sit down and have a drink with me?

I’m his trusted second. His closest friend. No fucking way he wants to sit in the booth that’s considered ‘his’, looking at my mug if he doesn’t have to.

I wish I could pretend I didn’t know what this was about. Unfortunately, I’m as on top of what goes on on our turf as Link in; more, really, since it’s my job to bring any issues to him. So when I got the call earlier that he wanted to talk to me about something personal, I had a clue what was going on. And though I knew that Nicolette was working at the Playground tonight so my odds of going seven days without seeing her in the flesh aren’t ones I’d play, I find myself maneuvering through the throng of customers toward Link’s shadowed corner.

He’s already seated on one side, an untouched shot in front of him. When he sees me, he nods, and I notice he has another one waiting for me.

Oh. One of those kinds of talks.

“Hey, boss. How are ya? How’s Ava?”

Link leans back in his seat, arm stretched out over the back of the booth. A self-satisfied smile tugs on his lips as he says, “Fucking glowing. Carrying my kid looks good on my wife.”

He’s not wrong. Ava is pretty in that ‘girl next door’ way, but though she’ll complain about her swollen ankles and the way her belly is sticking out now that she’s firmly in her second trimester, she wears her pregnancy well.

Plus, with her knocked up, Link is in an infinitely better mood these days. Part of that has something to do with the ring on her finger—and his name tattooed around her knuckle beneath the wedding band—but, more than that, the devil of Springfield just needed to get laid regularly to put a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Hey. I tried to get him to fuck off some of his aggression. He never took a mistress, though not for a lack of trying on my part, and now that I see him with Ava, I finally understand why.

For Link, it wasn’t about getting off. It wasn’t about chasing a quick nut, or finding release in a willing woman’s body for the night. It was that connection he had with his childhood sweetheart, and if he couldn’t have her, he didn’t want anyone else.

I didn’t get that. It wasn’t like I was suggesting he marry them or anything. It was just sex, right? Close your eyes and a pussy is a pussy… and my dumb ass believed that until Nicolette.

Link called himself a sap once. For mooning over Ava when she was in a relationship with another man… but he still wanted her. He held out hope he’d get his second chance with her. And while I’m sure he’d prefer she didn’t have to go through what she did for him to have it, he’s happy with how everything turned out.

Me? I don’t know what will come of my obsession with the gorgeous waitress, but I can finally say I understand what Link meant. Because I haven’t even been able to be with any other woman since the moment I met Nicolette, and I’ve never even had her. At least Link had memories of his Ava to keep him going on the lonely nights. I just have my hand, my wry attitude, and a couple of photos kept hidden on my phone.

I shake my head, trying to knock out just how fucking pathetic I am. Then, knowing this is unavoidable, I give Link my trademark winning grin. “Okay. You wanted me to stop by to see you. What’s up?”

“Right. Got something to talk to you about.”

“I’m listening.”

Link clinks the bottom of his shot glass against the tabletop. “Jake.”

Shit.

I knew it.

Keeping my tone light, I ask, “What did my cousin do now?”

What doesn’t Jake McIntyre do?

“Did you know he was back in town?” Link asks.

I can’t lie to him. For one, he’ll know and get pissed. For another, I respect him too much to even try.

“He called me a couple of weeks ago. Mentioned that he met another girl?—”

Link throws back his head, groaning loudly. There’s a reason he chose the book to claim for his infrequent trips to the Playground. Not only is it shadowed, giving up privacy, but the acoustics in this booth are amazing. Despite how loud the club is hopping tonight, I can just hear Link’s annoyance in the sound.

I hold up my hand. “I know. I know ? — ”

“I know you haven’t forgotten what shit he pulled the last time he ‘met a girl’.”

A lump lodges in my throat. I swallow it roughly. “No. I haven’t.”

“If it wasn’t for Jake… look. I know what happened with that other girl was a mess. A fucking disaster. But if Jake had listened to what you told him, it wouldn’t have been our problem. You understand?”

“Yeah, Link. Of course. What? You think I like cleaning up after him?”

“Why not? Since that girl got killed, you’ve been cleaning up all of ours.”

He’s not wrong. A guilty conscience is a bitch, and I’ve spent the last six years trying to find a way to smooth mine over. When Heather died… Jake took off. I gave my aunt and uncle some money to send him to a college on the other side of the country so that the fall-out from her death didn’t touch him. He was just a kid—barely twenty—and he had no idea that falling for the wrong girl would end up with the Dragonflies and the Sinners on the brink of World War Three.

Link smoothed it over without any other bloodshed; at least, not more than could be expected when a Dragonfly’s sister dies in the arms of one of his enemies. Knowing that Jake was out of Springfield helped, and I figured he’d want a fresh start in California.

And then, at Christmas, he visited home and told me all about Simone Burke, the most recent woman that caught his eye— in Springfield .

You think I’m obsessed? That’s nothing compared to Jake… and maybe that’s another reason why I finally decided to give up on Nicolette. When my cousin tells me the lengths he goes to catch Simone’s attention… at least I just followed her in my car.

Jake? He’ll sprawl out on the backseat of his target’s…

“I’ll take care of him.”

“We can’t fuck up this truce, Royce.”

As if I need a reminder of that. “We won’t, boss. I promise. Don’t worry about Jake. I got it.”

“I know you do.” Link tilts back the rest of his whiskey, a sure sign that the hard part is over. “Okay. Now, about that DB you guys cleaned up last week…”

I’m completely aware that Link’s changing the subject on purpose. He got a full report on Garrett Fink’s unfortunate demise. Agreeing with me that it looks drug-related—and not important enough to mention it to Damien—he clapped me on the shoulder for a job well done and that was all. But because I’m not the only one who gets tense when anyone brings up Heather Valiant, Link starts asking if I think that the two ODs I had to clean up on Monday have anything to do with Breeze.

Since Breeze is a party drug and those low-lifes had obvious track marks, I tell Link no, and move on. After all, drugs are Damien’s domain. Us Sinners have our own focus, and while I purposely steer the conversation away from girls, and Link hates to hear me ramble on about gambling, we settle on guns.

For the next half an hour, we talk about a meet Link had with Falco, a new up-and-coming gun runner on the East Coast. He wants to worm his way into Springfield, and Link’s thinking about it. As his second, though, he wants my in-put before he makes any final decisions, and we talk about the pros and cons until Link’s private phone rings.

I finally learned why he keeps a second phone on him. With the cheapie device programmed so that only one person could get through, whenever it rings, I know that his wife needs him.

It doesn’t matter why she’s calling. I’ve seen him hold up a finger to some of the other powerful players in town, telling them to shut the fuck up all so he can check with Ava, make sure she’s okay.

The further she progresses in her pregnancy, the antsier Link gets. No one but me would even notice, and I’m for sure not going to point it out. When Link is antsy, his Sig Sauer gets drawn, and he’s not so hasty about whether he pulls the trigger or not.

As he answers it, I run my finger around the rim of my glass, gaze being drawn to the dance floor.

Damn it. I tried. I really did. I wasn’t even looking for her—but there she is. Standing by the bar, talking to Dennis—the bartender on duty—as he loads up her tray, there’s Nicolette and, groaning under my breath, I drop my free hand to my dick. One glimpse. One glimpse of her sticking out her ass as she bends over the bar top and I’m fucking sprung.

So distracted by her long legs, the way her golden hair hangs in seductive waves just past her shoulders, and how easily she carries the tray away once it’s loaded, I barely notice that Link’s done with his conversation until he raps his knuckles on the table.

My head shoots his way. “Yeah, boss?”

“That was Ava.” Obviously. “She was wondering when I was coming home.” A small smile tugs on his lips. “I’m telling you, Royce. Ava can’t get enough of me these days. And when my wife needs me, you better fucking know I’m on my way.”

Lucky bastard. “Have fun.”

His smirk tells me he will. “What about you? Heading out?”

“Nah. I thought I’d stick around, watch the floor tonight.”

Link gives me a knowing look. “Just the floor?”

He’s my boss, the head of the syndicate, and one of the only friends I have. Even if I tried to hide my irrational affection for a woman I’m dying to know, Link would see right through me.

I shrug.

“I don’t know why you’re torturing yourself. Shit. If you want her, go for it.”

If only it was that easy.

“She works at the Playground,” I mutter. “That means she’s under syndicate protection, right? Even from me.”

Link huffs out a breath. “If you had a hard-on for the blondie so bad, why did you hire her? You could’ve bumped into her after turning her down, then done your charming ‘Rolls’ bullshit and there you go. She’s yours.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What do you mean, charming ‘Rolls’ bullshit?”

Link tilts back the last of his whiskey. The bottom of the empty shot glass clinks against the table top as he sets it down. “You know what I mean. You tried it with my Ava.”

“I didn’t know she was yours.”

“And like I said that night, the wedding dress gave it away.”

Whatever. “Enjoy your bride. Leave me to my misery.”

“Suit yourself. Just know that, if you change your mind, I won’t say ‘I told you so’.”

And Link thinks that I ’m the smart ass? I flip him my middle finger as he laughs, moving his big body out of our booth.

Once he’s gone, I pull out my phone. If Link wanted to talk to me about Jake, that makes me think my cousin got up to something in the days since I’ve talked to him last. As a favor to him—and my own stunted conscience—I took down the information he gave me about this Simone and had Tanner run her. The fact that Simone is married should’ve been a red flag to anyone, but Jake swore she was separated from the guy.

Maybe Link knows better. God knows that, even if she was taken, that wouldn’t stop my cousin…

Just before I dial him, I glance out into the crowd. It’s the underboss in me; I know better than to be caught off-guard. A quick surveil around the club to make sure that everything is okay, then I’ll call Jake, make sure he isn’t giving me any more grief than he has.

One quick look an?—

Hang on?—

What’s going on by the bar?

Nicolette is back—but she isn’t alone. A man a head taller than her is standing right in front of her. She has her empty serving tray tilted up, shielding her in an obvious display of discomfort as he’s talking down at her.

The wallet is too close. Too familiar. Completely taking over her personal space as he leans in, tapping the briefcase he’s holding in his other hand. Her eyes are darting to the side, looking for help, though no one else at the Playground seems to notice she’s in trouble.

No one but me .

I look at my phone. Pocket it inside of my suit jacket, then slip out of the booth.

Know what?

Jake can wait.

Nicolette obviously needs my help—and I was a fucking moron to think I could really stay away from her.