Page 11 of Inferno

“Apparently the next girlfriend.” She looked up at me then and her smile softened into genuine thanks. “But he got the message last night, thanks to you. Trust me. He won’t be back, and I sincerely appreciate your help.”

I’d seen men like Brett before. Men who built their self-worth on having women they could diminish. Very likely he needed to be the smartest person in every room and couldn’t stand it when someone else held the floor. Men like that called women emotional when they actually meant they didn’t like being held accountable.

Brett wasn’t harmless. No man who made a woman feel lesser-than just to boost his own ego was ever harmless. But she wasn’t ready to hear that and pushing it would only make her defensive. And shorten the time I got to spend with her.

“He ever put hands on you?” I asked, giving her an intense look I hoped made her afraid to lie to me.

She shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. Just words.” She looked off. “Lots and lots of words.” With a sigh, she set her fork down. “I’m not some damsel in distress, Inferno. I picked a fight with him at Throttle because I was pissed, not because I was scared.”

“I know.” I reached across the table and touched the back of her hand. I needed to see her smile again. This subdued, almost defeated version of Juniper made me physically ache, and I rubbed the center of my chest absently as I cleared my throat. “You picked a fight with me too, remember? Hopping on my lap like you owned the place.”

That got a real laugh out of her. The sound filled the room and lessened the band around my chest somewhat. Her shoulders dropped another inch. “God, that was bold. I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Believe it.” I finished my coffee. “You’ve got a pair on you, birthday girl. I respect that.”

While she finished eating, we sat in comfortable silence. She reached for my jacket, still draped over the chair where she’d left it last night, and dug through the pockets. Her phone came out. The screen was dark.

“I turned it off before I left for Throttle and forgot about it.”

I nodded. “Probably a good call.”

She held the phone but didn’t power it on. Just turned it over and over between her fingers, watching the light catch on the case. Her thumb hovered over the power button. Didn’t press it.

The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable but weighted. She was thinking about what would be waiting for her when that screen lit up. I could see it in the set of her jaw, the way her fingers tightened around the edges of the phone.

Finally, she sighed. “I’m not sure what I want more. For him to have messaged me or for me to turn it on and there’s… nothing.”

“Wish I could help you with that one, Juniper. You can’t help how you feel.”

“You know, I like that you call me by my full name. I never liked it when everyone shortened my name to Junie. Always reminded me of the story book character. And while I have nothing against the character, it’s just not me.”

“Yeah. Figured.” I gathered the empty plates and stacked them. Carried them to the small sink in the corner and rinsed them. When I turned back, she was standing by the window, phone still dark in her hand, looking out at the compound below. Her profile against the light was all clean lines and stubborn angles. The red lipstick caught the sun and held it.

“Ready to head down?” I asked.

She nodded but didn’t speak.

I grabbed my boots from by the door and pulled them on. Laced them tight. Found a clean shirt in the drawer and pulled it over my head. When I turned around, she was watching me. Something passed across her face that I couldn’t quite name.

I waited, wanting her to make the decision to stay or go. “Yeah. I guess I need to.”

“Didn’t say that,” I said quickly. “You stay as long or as short a time as you want. No expectations from either of us. You know my only condition for you staying here, and I don’t really worry you want one of my brothers.” I flashed her a cocky grin. “Why settle for imperfection when you could have me?”

That got another laugh. This one more light-hearted and amused. She pocketed the phone, still off, and followed me to the door. “You’re such a cad, Inferno. And I appreciate the offer, but I need to get back to reality. Though I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the fantasy.”

I held out my hand to her and she took it. We took the stairs down. Morning light flooded the common room through the high windows, turning the dust motes to sparkling gold. The place was emptier than it had been an hour ago. Someone had cleared the bottles, and the stale tobacco and weed scent was absent.

A prospect nodded at us from behind the bar. Young kid, maybe twenty-two, with a fresh cut on his chin. He’d just gotten out of Terre Haute on a five-year stretch his lawyer had reduced to three years. His time hadn’t been pleasant, and he still jumped at his own shadow sometimes. I nodded back. Juniper walked beside me, keeping her hand in mine instead of pulling away.

Outside were a few bikes, Tiny’s truck, and Juniper’s sedan sitting where Sully had parked it beside my Harley. The morning sun caught the windshield, making the dew from the previous night sparkle before it burned off slowly. We crossed the gravel. Her steps slowed as we approached the vehicle. She dug the phone out of her pocket and held it in her palm. The screen was still dark.

“You don’t have to turn that on right now,” I said. “Stay here if you dread going back that much.”

She shook her head. “Better to know. Besides. I can’t run from my problems.” She gave me a half grin. “No matter how tempting.”

She pressed the power button. The screen lit. The phone vibrated in her hand, once, twice, then kept going. Message after message. Call after call. The vibrations didn’t stop. They piled up, one on top of another, until the phone was practically buzzing itself out of her grip.

I watched her expression change in the morning light. The confidence she’d carried since I’d first met her seemed to drain away like someone had pulled a plug. Her thumb scrolled. Stopped. Scrolled again. The color left her cheeks.