Page 13 of Wicked Believer (Original Sinner #2)

Chapter Ten

Charlotte

A short while later, we pull up outside The Happy Dumpling, the Chinese restaurant housed below mine and Jax’s apartment, and to my surprise Dagon manages to snag a spot directly outside the storefront.

I exit the vehicle, a member of the security team in tow, only to be met by an elderly Asian woman, who leans out the restaurant door, shouting at me in Chinese. She gestures wildly toward the car.

“Sorry, Mrs. Huang,” I call to her, wincing at how furious she looks before I signal for Dagon to circle the block or park somewhere else while he waits for me.

Miller and Garcia, who I’m pretty sure are both ex-military, if they’re even human, exit the second detail car that blocks the street. They come up onto the sidewalk to flank me.

Clearly, I’m not even allowed to go into my own apartment alone anymore.

With a surreptitious glance, I approach the door that leads to mine and Jax’s second-story flat. Mrs. Huang watches me warily, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Fo’ customers,” she says in heavily accented English, pointing to the now-empty street parking.

I make an apologetic expression. “Sorry, Mrs. Huang. It won’t happen again.”

She makes a little harrumph noise like she doesn’t exactly believe me, but then she smiles as soon as I flash the black company Mastercard Lucifer gave me.

Twenty minutes later I’m loaded up with enough Chinese food to feed the whole security team and then some, as well as Jax and me.

I pass some of the food to Miller for the other members of the team—who I’m not entirely certain need to eat, but I figure it’s polite to offer anyway—before I heft the remaining food bag onto one hip and make my way up the narrow, drooping stairs.

Mine and Jax’s apartment used to be an old tenement building, and despite that it and the storefront below have been refurbished plenty of times since, it shows.

When I reach the top, it takes me a moment to find my keys buried at the bottom of my Louboutin purse with Garcia watching me like a hawk from only two steps below.

He lifts a waxy paper bag stuffed with egg rolls in thanks, the little red dragon on the outside crinkling.

I manage to find my keys a few seconds later, and I shove the right one into the lock and twist.

The door opens, and a loud burst of music greets me.

“Charlotte, what are you doing here?” Jax smiles from ear to ear before tapping off whatever Spotify playlist she was playing. She hurries across the room to help me with the bags.

I open my mouth, almost ready to say, Why wouldn’t I be here?

After all, it’s my apartment too.

Though honestly, I haven’t been around much in a few weeks. I’m still paying rent, and all my old stuff is here, but even in my head, saying so sounds bitchy, and the other two faces on the sofa stop me.

Ian and Evie.

“Charlotte!” Evie comes up off the sofa to quickly kiss both my cheeks. A habit I think she picked up from her late Moroccan model of a mom, who, based on the photos I’ve seen, could’ve pretty much been her twin.

I finish greeting her, closing the door before I’m forced to face Ian.

“Hi,” I say, lifting my hand awkwardly.

“Hi,” he says, like he isn’t exactly pleased to see me.

We both stand there for a strained beat.

The last time we were together, Ian made it pretty clear he had feelings for me.

Feelings that I ... don’t reciprocate.

And no matter how kind he’s been or how unfounded, I still can’t squash my sneaking suspicions that he may have been more involved when Jax was drugged at Azmodeus’s club than he seemed to be.

We never did find out who did it and why.

I force a weird smile, not knowing whether to hug him and try to play it friendly or leave our cringy greeting at that. Finally he turns to say something to Evie that I don’t really register. I nearly sigh in relief.

Good. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way.

I turn my attention back toward Jax, who makes an exaggerated yikes face and mouths the word awkward now that Ian’s not looking before she pulls me in for a squeezy hug.

“So, what are you doing here?” she says. “Don’t tell me you were just in the neighborhood.”

I glance toward our other two friends, unsure how much I want to share in front of them. “I just thought I’d come home for the night, that’s all.”

The words settle over the room like a wet blanket.

Jax and Evie look toward one another uncertainly.

“Oh,” Jax says, her voice a bit more high pitched than usual. “Oh sure, it’s just ... Evie needed a place to crash, and since you haven’t been here in a few weeks, we figured—”

“That I could stay on your side of the room,” Evie finishes. “No biggie.”

“Of course,” I say, a little too fast to be convincing. “Of course. You’re more than welcome to it, Evie.”

I glance between them, meaning to say something more, but I must take a second too long, because Jax gives a tense clear of her throat before she says, “I sent you a text earlier. To ask if it was okay, I mean, but you didn’t get back to me.”

“It’s totally okay.” I nod. “My notifications have been crazy. Don’t worry about it.” I wave a hand, trying to look like I don’t mind, but even to myself, I sound unconvincing.

My throat tightens painfully.

It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of spare beds I could use in the penthouse, even if I don’t want to sleep alone in Lucifer’s bedroom tonight.

I just ... wanted space, that’s all.

Somewhere I could call my own.

My chest grows heavy, the pressure there that never seems to go away lately making it harder to breathe.

Don’t bother to wait up. Lucifer’s words echo through me.

Which means he’ll likely be in Hell all night. Or wherever else it is that he disappears to these days. I’m not entirely certain where he’s been running off to, actually.

“You’re more than welcome to it, Evie,” I add, trying my best to sound reassuring, though as I glance toward her, suddenly I realize why she didn’t ask me if she could take one of the rooms at the penthouse in the first place. “Oh my God, you did it, didn’t you?”

She nods, pressing her lips together before she slowly grins. She launches herself into my arms then, both of us squealing.

Evie finally made her move to temporarily disappear, to get off the media’s radar and out from beneath her older brother’s thumb.

As New York City’s former “it” girl and a professional model turned influencer, to the unknowing eye, Evie appears to have everything, but it didn’t take long knowing her for me to recognize that her fame came at a price.

A price demanded by the Russian bratva down in Brighton Beach, their off-the-books operations run by her father and her ultra-controlling older brother, Dmitry.

“I wouldn’t have been brave enough without your encouragement, you know,” she whispers to me, sounding uncharacteristically grateful.

I grip her tighter, a sense of pride filling me.

Escaping that kind of toxic, insular life isn’t easy. I know that firsthand.

Though what exactly did it cost her?

I don’t ask as I pull back from our hug, her eyes momentarily settling on me as a haunted kind of knowing passes between us.

It’s the look of survivors, of those who’ve had the courage to escape.

I only hope that Evie doesn’t land herself with yet another villain like I did.

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow past it, turning away quickly. The memory of my father, of Mark, and of all the members of their congregation who hurt me still haunts me.

Only for me to find myself in Lucifer’s waiting arms in the end.

I guess I really am as wicked as they said I’d be.

I frown, pushing the errant thought aside.

“Good for you, Evie,” I say as I turn my attention back toward helping Jax unload our takeout.

I’m happy they’ve connected. I am, truly.

I introduced the two of them a few weeks ago when Evie needed entertainment for an A-list celebrity party.

Jax was more than willing to do a few readings for Evie and her famous friends, especially at the astronomically generous rate Evie was offering.

As an aspiring Broadway actress and a psychic by trade, these days Jax knows how to entertain even the most glamorous crowds.

She’s a far cry from her days busking for tourists in Times Square, which is how we met actually.

I catch her eye, and she smiles knowingly. Sometimes I wonder if she realizes how much her kindness then still means to me. I’d had barely any money when I first showed up in the city, and at NYC prices, only enough to float me for maybe a month or two, at most.

I’d been standing in the middle of the street, half awestruck, half overwhelmed by the enormity of it all—by the skyscrapers, the savory smell of the food carts on the corner serving Nathan’s hot dogs, the hundreds of people, the massive flashing billboards—uncertain where to go or what to do next now that I’d made it to safety.

Or what I thought was safe, at least.

All I knew back then was that Times Square was somewhere I could get a hotel, even if it would cost me.

I stare up at the flashing neon signs, at the vast living thing that is New York City, my mouth going dry at the sights before me.

I can be literally anybody now. Anybody I choose to be.

I take a step back and bump into something hard, nearly knocking it over. A card table. And a girl, the contents of her table now scattered.

Oh crap.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I scramble to help the girl sitting there pick up her cards. A Tarot deck. A pile of them have fluttered across the table and down near her feet.

But she simply smiles at me. “The Wheel of Fortune reversed,” she says, pointing to one of the few that fell face up on the table near me.

I’d been instantly transfixed by her “witchery.” By what I’d been taught my whole life is the work of the devil. After all ...

Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

Though these days, those words hit a little different.

“ Followed by the Chariot.” She points to a detailed image of a pharaoh flanked by a black and white sphinx. “And lastly ...” She points to the final card, though another still sits unrevealed, in her hand. “The Devil. ”

A slow smile builds on her lips as she watches me curiously. “We’re going to be very good friends, I think.”

Several hours later she was letting me into her apartment, renting me a place to stay, at least temporarily, though temporary turned into permanent quickly.

That’s just the kind of person Jax is.

She makes fast friends wherever she goes, trusts fiercely, jumps first and asks questions later. She’s more courageous than I’ll ever be.

She smiles at me, almost like she knows what I’m thinking.

We’re ride or die now. True besties.

A knot forms in my stomach.

Even if I ... haven’t been a very good friend to her lately.

Ian joins us at the counter a second later, oblivious to my reminiscing. “Mind if I take one of these to go?” he asks, snagging a small, unclaimed container and giving it a little shake. He’s looked a bit put out ever since I arrived.

“You’re leaving?” Jax makes an exaggerated pouty face. “But you just got here.”

I glance between them reluctantly.

She’s denied it at every turn, but I think if he were interested, Jax would date Ian in a heartbeat.

He looks down at his phone, clearly too distracted to notice her disappointment. “I need to swing by my place to get changed before my shift starts.”

His shift at The Body Shoppe. One of Azmodeus’s clubs.

I flush at the memory.

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” Ian makes a few quick goodbyes, giving me a stiff nod with a muttered, “Mrs. Lucifer,” before he ducks out of the apartment.

The moment the door swings shuts behind him, a pang of guilt runs through me.

“Sorry to make it awkward,” I mumble to Jax and Evie.

Jax waves a hand. “It’s fine. It’s his problem.” She shrugs, but the way her hands flutter over the food anxiously like she’s now completely lost track of what she’s doing says it’s anything but.

“You don’t owe any man your attention, Charlotte.” Evie frowns at Jax, seemingly annoyed by her disappointment. “Not even the nice ones.”

Evie is model-level gorgeous—not that Jax isn’t also ridiculously pretty—but Evie comes from money and has the looks to prove it. She likely knows a thing or two about thwarting unwanted attention, male or otherwise. She wouldn’t understand the kind of swipe-left dating scene Jax is facing.

I nod, searching for a change in subject.

Anything that’ll make this visit feel more normal.

But as I dish up my plate, I can’t help but feel that Jax is just ... yet another person I’ve disappointed lately.