Lawbreaker (Unbreakable Book 3) Page 4

  He strangled the steering wheel until his knuckles flashed white, then released his grip on a forced inhale. And I got the unspoken message: Shay and Rafe had intense history.

  After a right on Gibson, he turned down a narrow side street. We’d left behind the last of our town’s small shops marked by colorful awnings and flowered window planters. Damp aged brick pressed in on both sides of the truck and stretched up toward a sliver of starry sky.

  “What do you know about her?” What are you so tight-lipped about?

  He sighed, not happy about the rock and the hard place. “Only what she lets anyone know.”

  But apparently more than he was willing to share. “Her past?”

  He jerked a headshake. “Not a thing.”

  “Cade said you vouched for her.” You have to know something.

  “From what little she’s let me see? Shay’s worth ten of anyone I know.”

  Wow. High praise coming from you. “Her character.” Which meant more than any past.

  Rafe shot me a hard look. “Solid.”

  After slowing a block in, he stopped at the entrance of an adjoining alley, engine idling. He nodded toward the right, “She’s down there.”

  I stared down into oppressive darkness and listened through the open truck window. From the intersection behind us, the distant hum of car engines rose and fell, but no sound came from the alley. “You sure?”

  He gave a short nod. “As sure as it gets.” He thrust the shifter into park. “But I can get out and check for you.”

  A part of me wanted to grill him on how he knew. But I refused to cross the unspoken line between boss and coworker.

  “Nah.” I opened the door and climbed out. “Thanks, man. I got it from here.”

  Maybe.

  Hopefully.

  Didn’t have any clue what I’d be walking into, but I could go anywhere she could. Kinda owed it to her, since I was the coldhearted bastard who’d chased her there.

  When I shut the truck door, its clang echoed through the urban slot canyon. The rumble of Rafe’s engine revved up, then faded away as he left the mouth of the alley.

  On a night that had earlier been cool, a sudden warmer humidity cloyed at my skin. I passed through stagnant air trapped between the steel backside of a dry cleaner’s shop on my right and a taller brick apartment building on my left.

  I cocked my head and listened for signs of life as I took wary steps into the darkness. I’d walked through unknown alleys before, but never by choice, not at night. And I couldn’t imagine anyone going to an alley as a destination itself. Not Shay. Not even Rafe.

  Every outside light fixture had empty sockets, but faint glow from several windows above lit my way. With every step, pebbles crunched, the slight sound megaphoned into the glaring silence.

  I tucked my thumbs into the front pockets of my jeans and blew out a calming breath. Then I pulled my shoulders back with confidence. No gleaming blade could possibly stab me tonight. I’ve got things to do tomorrow.

  But the farther I walked, the deeper doubt crept in. Not the reason, that was noble.

  It was the sanity in my method of finding her. Alone. In unfamiliar territory.

  Maybe I should’ve taken Rafe’s help after all.

  Somewhere in the near distance, cat screams screeched out. The muffled sounds of TVs behind closed windows droned eerie competitive hums.

  A rusty dumpster, most of its surface colored in graffiti, edged into view to my left. It overflowed with loose trash. A wall of flattened boxes leaned against its back corner. At its far end, a blanket-filled shopping cart parked in front narrowed the alley ahead down to a few feet.

  Nearby, a hollow metallic clang sounded, and I jumped.

  “Go away, Ben.” A low familiar voice vibrated with steely anger.

  Right place after all.

  I sighed as guilt pierced my gut; I’d caused that anger. “Just came to talk.”

  “You already talked. Listening. That’s your problem.”

  One of many. “I came to listen, then.”

  Shay stepped out from behind the dumpster, arms crossed over her short-sleeved T-shirt. Light flickered from one of the overhead TV-apartment windows casting her in a faint glow. Dark-brown hair fell down around her shoulders. Black lashes fringed darkened eyes before they narrowed at me. “I’m done talking.”

  “You sure about that?” I’d tossed her words from the bar back at her.

  She glared at me. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “In this particular alley?”

  “In my space.”

  Which space? I wanted to ask. The words burned on the tip of my tongue. Her mental space? Her world in general?

  She’d fled to the dank alley we stood in. Her safe haven?

  Her home? I hoped not. Somehow, I’d convinced myself she wasn’t homeless. The idea, for her, didn’t compute with me.

  Which meant I couldn’t leave. Because the more questions I had, the more I needed to know about the intriguing creature standing so defiantly in front of me. “To eat, then.”

  A single brow rose. “Try again. No five-star restaurant here.”

  Undaunted, I pressed on. “Pretty good one nearby.”

  “Not interested.”

  What would you be interested in? “Even for a job offer?”

  “Not buyin’ it.”

  Yeah, me either. Honor or not, I had a business to run, and a safe world for me and my crew didn’t include undocumented underage bartenders. But it did include compassion, a virtue on short supply with me lately. Which I needed to correct with her. She hadn’t deserved the brunt of my frustration. “Look, I was a total asshole back there.”

  “Total. And complete.”

  Was that amusement in her tone? Probably just mocking. Didn’t matter. Progress either way. “Give me another chance?”

  “Why should I?”

  Too many reasons to list. A few for me. My gut told me a couple for her too.

  But before I had a chance to answer, a hulking shadow spread up and out from behind the dumpster, inches from Shay. Easily seven-foot, a good two-eighty, the hulking form had long fuzzy dreadlocks and dark skin. A wiry mass of black hair hid the lower half of his face.

  Shay didn’t flinch or cower when he eased close enough for his arm to brush her shoulder. Instead, her shoulders squared, her chest rose, and her chin lifted a fraction in easy confidence.

  The creature’s head cocked a little to the side, the way a puppy tries to figure out a curiosity. “Come close, Ben.” The guy’s deep voice purred out slow and soft, tones a gentle friend would use to invite another to come play. Only his words were totally at odds with the death glare he blasted at me from hooded eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m good here.” Safe. From Bigfoot.

  I almost laughed that a slight girl stood between us. As if she protected me, from him.

  With a healthy dose of caution, I stared over her shoulder, sizing up the guy.

  And how do you wash that gnarly head of hair anyway?

  Shay gave a slow headshake. “You’re not good anywhere.” Mocking humor edged her tone. “And you’re not safe here.”

  Her voice softened at that last. Into concern? For my well-being?

  “One drink.” There. I’d gone out on a ledge. A peace offering over the very thing that had started the whole fucking bonfire.

  “Don’t drink.” Automatic comeback.

  My mind blanked as the dual ironies of that tidbit crashed in my brain.

  Questionably aged bartender? Meet the bar owner who has drinking issues.

  “Coffee, then.” Yep. I kept at it.

  “Too late.”

  “Food.”

  “Not hungry.”

  Yet someone’s stomach growled loud enough to be heard; wasn’t mine.

  No one moved.

  “I am. And...”

  “And...what?” Her head dropped as her eyes narrowed. The tough girl I’d chased down wasn’t giving an inch.


  “And, I need to apologize. Grovel. Explain my actions. Ask for your understanding. Beg forgiveness.”

  The corners of her lips twitched a little. No mistake. Definite amusement.

  She lifted her shoulders slightly and inhaled a patient breath while her gaze rolled up toward the apartments above us, as if she considered coming with me...and couldn’t believe her idiocy. Then she turned her body enough to no longer appear squared-off with me and took a step closer. Away from the menacing mountain behind her.

  The mountain matched her step—a baby-step for him—then boomed low, “Blink.”

  His growled command made me do exactly that. Blink. Heavily.

  “S’okay, Bear.” Shay paused and looked over her shoulder. “You know I can take care of myself.”

  Bear. As in ferocious wild grizzly. One animal she’d apparently tamed.

  “Go.” Bear rested his giant paw on the slender curve of her shoulder. Instinct made my thigh muscles twitch, as if to lunge for her, protect her. But again, she didn’t flinch at his touch. His gravelly voice fell lower, softer as he angled his face down toward her. “Eat some. For me.”

  She turned toward me for a beat, then glanced back up conspiratorially at him. “Guess it’d be cool to hear him grovel. Maybe show the dickhead what active listening sounds like.”

  Dickhead? Yeah, guess I deserved that. Probably more.

  “Still not eating,” she muttered as she brushed past me in the alley.

  Bear chuckled behind us. Like he knew her well. As if they held vast secrets between them.

  Unsettled by their comfort at camping out in an alley behind a dumpster, I followed her, then jogged to catch up as the distance between us grew.

  Long legs on a lean athletic frame took her all the way to the sidewalk. She’d rounded the corner by the time I reached the spot where I’d gotten out of Rafe’s truck.

  A block in, she whirled around under the glare of a streetlamp. “What do you really want from me?”

  “Everything I said back there.”

  “Bullshit.” Tough as nails. “No one does something out of the goodness of their heart anymore.”

  “Maybe more should.”

  Hard lines of anger twitched into a dubious expression. Then, in her wide stance two feet away and full of every bit of the fire she’d flared back at the bar, she searched my eyes as if seeking the truth while at the same time looking as if she wouldn’t believe it even if she found it.

  And as she took her doubt-filled time looking, so did I. I took a fresh look at the girl I’d judged in one instant faraway glance—and had gotten wrong.

  Idiot. But then, I knew that. Why I’d come to rectify the grave mistake.

  But so much more unfolded in the seconds we stood in the now-cooler air in the middle of the night along the side of the road. I stared at a complete stranger, who seemed oddly familiar. Both of us remained motionless longer than needed. Her eyes widened a fraction, as did mine, but neither of us moved, neither said a word. It was as if two wounded animals stumbled out of the forest and faced off, uncertain what they actually confronted, hesitant to trust the other: friend or foe?

  The unusual moment felt unique and beautiful. Just like her.

  And I got the sense we weren’t strangers at all. Even though we hid our scars well, we shared damage—deep-wounding and soul-altering. The kind that made a person rip and shred first, then question, having been on the receiving end one too many times. The kind that made girls tougher than they needed to be, because they’d been hurt bone-deep and didn’t know if they could recover from another blow.

  Her gaze softened. Whether out of pity for what she saw in me or remorse for giving me the spiked end of her protective shield, I hadn’t a clue. But I’d take it.

  I stepped closer. “Ready to hear me grovel?”

  Her arms splayed wide as she glanced at the cobblestone sidewalk on either side of her. “Right here works for me.”

  “Ah, but ‘right here’ doesn’t have coffee.”

  Those slender arms crossed, head lowering as it tilted a fraction. “Not necessary for groveling.”

  “Not all I had in mind.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  I held up my hands in surrender and blew out a heavy breath. “I give. I fucked up. One horrendous day after the grueling last two weeks, then seeing you behind the bar? Dropped the cherry on top of my toxic sundae.”

  Her brows raised. “Gee, thanks.”

  Not doing well with the groveling. “I’m sorry.”

  Expression deadening into disinterest, her attention dropped as she lowered her hand, rotated a relaxed fist, then began inspecting her nails.

  “Look.” Just be honest. I sighed, remembering every excruciating detail, letting my real pain bleed out. “I’ve had a monumentally shitty day.”

  She took a deep breath, then her gaze crept up, interest sparking there as it met mine.

  Now or never. Take it all the way. “No excuse to rail on you. But I saw you and…well, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Her brows raised slightly again, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Too young.” She stabbed me with a hard look. “You were so damn sure.”

  I nodded, willing to admit I’d jumped to conclusions. “Smart mouth, too.” My gaze dropped to it. “Made me crazy.” Makes me crazy now. Those full soft lips had slung words that had shredded me. What would they be like if she decided to be tender, soothing…

  Food.

  Job.

  Don’t get distracted.

  “C’mon. I know a place not far from here.” I stepped to the side and nodded back the way we’d come, but well beyond the alley she seemed so comfortable in. “And I grovel better when I’m not starving.”

  As I opened the diner door for Shay, a small bell tinkled above our heads, but she paused before her foot hit the white tile floor. Then her shoulders squared, her head raised taller, and she continued through, walking into the tiny reception area.

  Warm air pumped out from a shiny black radiator to the right of the door, but it was the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods that engulfed me. My stomach took its turn at a loud growl. When had I last eaten? Not dinner. Lunch had been a joke. Rarely touched breakfast. So yeah, fuel. Now.

  While I stood beside the Please Wait To Be Seated sign, Shay ignored it, drawn as if in a trance to the train memorabilia in the back.

  Large black-and-white photographs of gleaming steam locomotives filled the wall and continued on through the restaurant. According to a placard in the middle, they chronicled the executive transcontinental tours of the late 1800’s. Grand station masters proudly wore their pressed uniforms beside wealthy passengers: men in three-piece suits or tuxes with top hats, women in dresses draped in jewels, some with furs wrapped around their shoulders. Bygone days when celebrating to get from here to there faster was novel, held prestige, and had been only available to those with money to burn.

  But Shay’s actions captured my full attention. With measured steps and an indiscernible expression, she approached the only collector’s item outside a large display case along the wall: a shining brass train whistle. Nearly three-feet tall, it had been mounted high on a wall where it’d been designed to look like the actual engine it might’ve been on.

  When she lifted her hand, trembling fingers hovered over the unmarred surface. Her expression became reverent a split second before she fully faced the relic with her back toward me.

  But I still saw the evidence of her distress: head lowering, breaths quickening.

  “Table for two?” A cheery woman with short silver hair broke into the silence.

  Shay blew out a heavy breath as her shoulders fell. When she turned, relief washed over her face. She darted a glance at me, as if to check if she’d been caught.

  I gave nothing away, nodded to our server.

  After our menus were slapped down onto the table of one of the window booths in the middle of a deserted section, we sat opposite one anoth
er. She crossed her arms, defiance written all over her face.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You said something about a job offer.”

  “I did.” But I hadn’t yet worked out the kinks of that idea.

  “I won’t waitress. Not gonna squeeze into one of those bustier things.” She swept her fingers up in front of her breasts, then cupped her hands out a fraction while scrunching her face.

  “Don’t like ‘em?” Yeah, I couldn’t help myself. She’d baited me.

  “My boobs?” She glanced down.

  I followed her gaze. “I happen to think they’re spectacular, in case you were wondering.”

  “But…” Her eyes widened, then her brows furrowed and she gave a quick headshake. “No. Nooo. The bustier. It’s ridiculous.”

  I flipped open my menu, pretending not to notice how flustered she’d gotten. For a split second, her vulnerability had been adorable. But stark panic had flashed an instant later. And my goal had been to put her at ease, have her let me in—not shut me out.

  “So, what’ll it be?” I nodded toward the closed laminated menu in front of her.

  But she didn’t move. She stared straight at me.

  Maybe because the question was loaded, with more than food options on a menu…

  That I’d chased her down.

  That she’d agreed to come.

  Whether or not she’d consider a job offer.

  Annnd…why we both were inexplicably attracted to our clear polar opposite.

  Shay…

  What’ll it be? From him? “Nothing.”

  I didn’t want food or anything slick businessman Benjamin Bishop offered.

  The weight of his stare landed on me. Assessing. Like if those dark penetrating eyes lasered deep enough into my brain, he’d expose all my secrets.

  He laid down his menu, leaned back, and crossed his arms. “You don’t ever need anything.” An accusation. A challenge. And it fell heavy between us, like a judgment to some falsehood he’d discovered.

  I shrugged. Air. Water. Food. My gaze dropped to the menu’s laminated picture of a melty cheeseburger.

  Then I pegged him with a hard stare back. “We all need things.”