Chapter 17

Ipull my truck over to the side of the street, mindlessly pulling off a near-perfect parallel parking job about a mile from the Blackwell building. Taking a few breaths, I go over exactly what Blackwell said, looking for tells, gaps, and information.

The back and forth nature of conversation is sometimes the worst enemy to a well-laid plan, sharing more than intended. Conversing with Blackwell had been more chess match and power posturing than usual, though.

Everything had been going mostly according to plan, and I’d even gotten a bit of insight about his motivation for wanting the hit on Bella. My bluff about security because of her big-wig friends had been just that, a bluff based on the research I’d done and the connections I’d made myself about what in Bella’s life could put her at such risk. But Blackwell had all but said that he is using Bella to get at Thomas Goldstone. It seems like an obvious slip of the tongue, which makes me question the accidental nature of it.

But all in all, it’d gone pretty well, I’d even managed to put off his urgency at completing the job, until I’d mentioned using seduction as an effective tool.

So I hear, he’d said.

And the game had changed, pivoted on a dime.

In three words, he let me know that he was holding more cards than I’d prepared for.

I’d had to play along, telling Blackwell, the one man I don’t want to look too closely at my relationship with Isabella, that I’d already begun a seduction course of action. Of course, the best cover is as close to reality as possible, so in making Blackwell believe I am seeing Isabella in order to complete his mission, perhaps I can distract him from my true intentions.

But that is only a temporary solution.

It’s a tangled web of deception, and Blackwell is powerful enough that trying to outmaneuver him is a difficult and delicate undertaking.

I grin at the memory of throwing the blade near his hand. That had been delicate, but not difficult at all, and a show of danger is something Blackwell will respect.

I glance at the digital clock, glowing in the dim light of the truck cab. Eight thirty, just enough time to see Bella for dinner.

Quickly, I pull back into traffic and drive my truck to the motel. I change back into my casual clothes, running my hands through my hair to muss it a bit. Grabbing an Uber, I make my way to the diner.

But this time, as I walk inside, I glance around a bit more carefully. It’s part of my nature, especially in my line of work, to be exceedingly careful. But despite Blackwell throwing out a hint about surveillance, I don’t see anyone or anything suspicious.

Inside, I simply watch Bella for a moment before she realizes I’m here. She floats around the room as if she’s dancing, her tennis-shoe-clad feet barely touching the floor as she does her best to provide good service to her customers. Warmth fills my heart, seeing her work so hard but never complaining, watching as people’s blank faces transform into smiles from a conversation with her and the glow she is suffused with shining so beautifully from her very being.

And when she looks my way, her smile broadens. Amazingly, I did that. The man whom most people fear, whom they never want to see darken their doorstep, can bring happiness to this woman. This princess who deserves the best but only gets me.

“Hi, Bella,” I say, laying a light kiss to her cheek. She blushes, pink heat beneath my lips for a split second before she pulls away.

“Hey,” she says chirpily. “Kinda swamped, but have a seat anywhere and I’ll grab you a menu.”

I shake my head. “Just order something you’d recommend for me. I’ll wait until you get your dinner break and we can eat together?”

She bites her lip, nodding like that sounds excellent. But before she can truly answer, a polite voice calls out, “Miss?” and almost with a click of her heels, Bella is back to work.

I sit down to watch her some more, but part of me is scanning the rest of the diner customers and the parking lot, wondering and thinking about Blackwell’s words once again.

At some point, Martha walks up to talk to Henry, and we meet eyes through the kitchen window. She wags a finger, telling me to wait a minute, as if I’m going anywhere. After finishing her conversation with Henry, she comes over, sitting down in the booth across from me.

“I wanted to say thank you again for saving our girl the other night. And by ‘our girl’, I mean the Gravy Train’s. Izzy is one of us, and while your protective instinct is rather chivalrous, and I like that, I’m a bit of a Momma Bear. I’m sure you understand.”

I flash her my charming, boy-next-door grin, not for seduction but to charm her, nevertheless. “Of course. I understand and appreciate that you and the rest of the Gravy Train family have taken such good care of Bella. She’s not an easy person to take care of, bound and determined to do it all on her own. I admire that about her, but no one is a solitary force. We all need a little support now and then.”

Her lips press together, but the edges tilt up so I take that as a good sign. “Not to sound too old-school, but what are your intentions here?” Before I can answer, she adds, “And a short-term fling is a reasonable answer if it’s the truth. I just want to know what Izzy’s getting herself into so that we’re ready to give her that support you talked about when it’s needed.”

I can’t help but find Bella in the room, my eyes drawn to her as much as my heart is. My words are to her, though Martha hears them loud and clear. “I wasn’t looking for her, at least not like this. But I found her, or maybe she found me? Either way, the result’s the same, I guess.”

I shrug, looking back to Martha. “I don’t have a lot to offer, no sweet promises of whisking her away to an easy life, or even answers to your questions. Because the truth is . . . I don’t know. All I know is that I like her a lot and I want to spend time with her, share the load she carries as much as she’ll let me, and make her smile. I don’t know if that’s enough, but it’s all I have.”

Martha’s eyes look a little glassy, which surprises me. I figured she would be a tough old bird, hardened by life and bitter about love, considering the sarcastic banter she shares with Henry. She swallows, dabbing at her eye. “That’ll do, Gabe.” She gets up, and I feel like the firing squad is inexplicably letting me go. But she pauses and lays a hand on my forearm. “For now.”

I smirk, thinking that perhaps her biting nature is a bit of show and a bit of warning. Carefully, I ask, “Martha? Can I ask you for a favor?”

Her brow raises, but she nods. “Kinda felt like I just gave you one by letting you see Izzy, but shoot.”

“I’d like to take Bella on a date. A real one, not just parking lot pie, though the pie was delicious. Is there any chance you could find coverage tomorrow so she could have the night off?”

Martha smiles big and bright at that. “Hell, yes. I can work some magic and make that happen. If, and only if, you’ll work some magic and take her someplace nice.”

“Deal,” I say happily.

“Just one thing,” Martha cautions, “you’ve got to tell her. Good luck getting her to forgo a night of tips for something as self-serving as a date. If you can get her to do that, you’ll know she thinks you’re really something special.”

Martha’s words ring in my head as I tell Bella the hopefully good news over the Belgian waffles she ordered for us.

“So, you just asked my boss if I could have the night off? Bit of an overstep, don’t ya think?” she challenges. I can see the worry in her forehead, the lines popping out as she furrows her brow. I think she’s doing math in her head. X hours times Y amount per hour plus Z in average tips equals... a very expensive date.

“It was. In my defense, I simply asked if it was possible from Martha’s perspective. If you don’t want to, we won’t do it. On the other hand, if you do want to go out with me, on a real date where we get dressed up, I pick you up and tell you how nice you look, and we go out for a quiet dinner, just the two of us, then you’re free and clear at work.” I give her the full-wattage smile, hoping the hard sell was enough.

She laughs, loud and open-mouthed. “Ooh, you’re playing dirty. I like it. All right, you got yourself a date.” She leans back in the booth, looking toward the kitchen, and yells out, “Well-played, Martha. Guess I’ll be needing tomorrow night off.”

Martha answers with a wink. “Have fun, you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do... back when I was twenty-five!”

Bella turns back to me, snickering. “That leaves pretty much everything open. Martha once got arrested for protesting by streaking across the football field during the last two minutes of a homecoming game.”

I laugh, but fight imagining it in my head. “Ah, the perils of being young and stupid.”

Bella shakes her head, eyes wide in horror. “Uhm, this was about five years ago. She was protesting the boys getting away with all sorts of shit under the guise of ‘boys will be boys.’ She stood right up in front of the judge and said, ‘Well, women will be women then too, I suppose.’ She didn’t even get community service.”

“Let’s maybe aim to not get arrested at least, though you could streak through the privacy of your own home and I’d chase you straight to the bedroom.”

Bella touches the tip of her nose, winking. “I’ll remember that.”

Her dinner break is nearly over all too soon. She shoves a last bite of waffle into her mouth and wipes her lips with a napkin. “I’d better get back to it. You gonna hang around again tonight?”

I can hear the heat in her tone, the want so blatant and sexy. But I can also see the faint smudges under her eyes. She puts on a great act, a good front, but my girl is tired and needs some sleep.

Plus, I should try to figure out how Blackwell is getting his information before I spend the night again. For Bella’s sake and my own.

“Tonight, I want you to go home right after you get off work, take a hot bath, drink a glass of wine, and think about our date tomorrow. I know it’s customary for the guy to pick the place, but I’m not all that familiar with Roseboro and I want this to be exactly what you want it to be, so can you choose a restaurant. Anywhere, anything, your wish is my command, Princess.”

She sighs out a happy breath, like the mere idea of that sounds blissfully amazing.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at seven thirty.” I get up, and though we’re in the middle of the diner, I can’t help but wrap my hand around the back of her neck, weaving my fingers into her hair. I lean down, kissing her softly, memorizing her taste and getting my fill to last the next twenty-four hours.

She’s dazed for a moment, and like a proud peacock, my ego inflates that somehow I can kiss her stupid because I’m feeling a bit buzzed on her myself.

She clears her throat and pats her apron. “Oh, let me get your keys for you. Thanks for the sweet ride today, by the way. And the breakfast goodies. I think Vash was swayed by your milk offering.”

“That was the intent. To win her over—and the human she lives with.”