by Alex Abbott
He looked across at her, brow furrowed as he looked so serious.
“We’ll make that life work together. I’m a better man now. Most men get worse in prison. I used the time to make myself stronger. Wiser. Better. I will keep you clean, keep you safe, keep you secure. Keep you happy.” He listed off those things with such firm certainty. “We’ll run our club, our lives, a far sight better than any of those fuckers we knew together back in the old days. You have to know that at least.”
She crossed her legs beneath the table and nodded, her eyes skirting to the side.
“I know we won’t have a problem with that, Jamal. But... you’re asking me to put all of my life in your hands. Again. My everything would be entwined with yours, even legally.”
“Yes,” he said, not equivocating, not arguing the point, but granting her that. “And you can trust me with your life. You know it. You told me so your very self on the way here,” he said, pointing out that very slipup he’d let slide so very recently. “I’ll put your life before my own, you don’t need my word on it, you know it. You saw me do it. I’d do it again, and again. A thousand times if I had to. You’re the reason why I came back ready to throw everything else away. So I could give you a life closer to what you deserve. Something stable, something secure, something happy.”
His eyes were intense then, boring through her as he stared across the table.
She couldn’t hide the way he made her feel. It was just as plain to him as it was to her, etched along her face and body. That flame that burned within her, hidden and protected for all those years...
She wanted him so bad. Not even what he offered, his protection, the stability.
He could have come in as a ragged bum and she still would have been tempted. The reminder of the way his hands, his body felt around her, atop her... It was like muscle memory. Even after all those years apart, just talking to him again reminded her.
“And what if it all goes to shit?” she forced herself to ask.
“You’ve told me it’s already gone to shit,” he said with a helpless gesture of his hands. “I found you at a mobster’s club, with some young man who had you drunk and was gonna get you high. You said your life was a mess and you couldn’t keep a job. I don’t know the details, and you don’t need to tell me, but I do know that the only thing we can do when our lives are shit, is try to build ‘em back up. That’s the only option in front of us, Angie. The only option.”
He looked across at her, tender concern in his dark, hard eyes. He had such depth of care for her, she could feel that in his gaze. Even when he was being so serious on such a dark topic.
“How’d you know he was gonna get me high?” she asked, her eyes narrowing even as she felt such longing. Such desire.
His brows furrowed and he looked disappointed in her.
“That’s what you’re hung up on? How I know? C’mon,” he said with a bit of a scoffing tone to his voice as he looked around the restaurant. “You just went and saw one of the biggest suppliers of the stuff in the city, you were walkin’ with some cocky young prick, drunk off his own ego. And,” he looked back to her, “he mentioned it to me casually on my way out of Javier’s office. Not exactly the secretive type, that one.”
She let out a soft sigh and shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m hung up on that because it’s the easiest thing I can ask, Jamal. Everything else...” she lifted her hands into the air as she looked at him. “Everything else is complicated and terrifying. Because I still fucking—.” She cut herself off. She would not tell him she wanted him. Not then.
“I need time to think on it,” she finally said with a sigh.
Jamal nodded his head to her in understanding, his fingers knitted together in front of him.
“I understand that. I didn’t expect an answer right now. But come with me at least when I inspect the club. I want you to be there with me. Even if there’s only a chance you join in, you should have a say from the get go,” he said, that point stressed to her.
“When?” she asked, looking up at him curiously.
“I’ll let you know,” he said, reaching back into his rear pants pocket, then pulling out a newly bought phone and sliding it across to her. “Put your number in there and I’ll let you know as soon as I do,” he said firmly.
She picked it up, hesitating as she ran her fingers over the screen, making it come to life.
“This’d be the most elaborate way to get a woman’s number in the world, by the way,” she said, lifting her eyes, teasing a little before finally adding her number to his phonebook and handing it back. “Should make sure to lock it.”
Jamal chuckled deeply as he took back his phone and stored it once more.
“Well now that I’ve got somethin’ of value in there, I know to do just that,” he remarked with a wry smile at her. The expression highlighting his strong jaw and smooth, handsome face. He was older than her by a few years, but he’d taken care of himself while away. Four years of clean living and working out had maintained that look. Enhanced it even.
She opened her mouth, thoughtfully, but then Lucy returned, all smiles and wondering if they wanted the dessert menu.
Angela leaned back in the bench, watching Jamal. Waiting for his decision.
She still expected him to be the one to set the pace, to take control of the situation. To relieve her of the need to worry and fret about doing the right thing.
She’d forgotten how nice it felt to be able to trust someone with all the mundanities of her life.
“Naw, we’re good,” he said before reaching into a pocket and forking out a large sum of bills. “That should cover it,” he remarked, and the waitress’ eyes went wide, a happy grin upon her face.
“Thank you so much! I’ll give you two some peace if you wish to linger, just lemme know if I can do anything else for ya,” she said before chipperly making her way off.
Jamal looked back across at her, an intense gaze.
“There’s nothin’ more I’d like than to spend the night with you, Angie. But I know it’s too soon,” he said simply in that dark voice of his. “I can just give you a ride back now, or… we could take a trip down memory lane. Visit an old haunt or two. I’m gonna do it anyways at some point, but I’d rather do it with you.”
She shook her head no.
“I have a lot to think about,” she said, looking up at his face. She was so tempted, so horribly tempted, but there was no way she could rekindle that. It was too quick, too soon, and she needed time to deal with her feelings for him. For Romy.
She thought back to the young man, his dapper charms, how passionate he was for her and felt bad for blowing him off. He deserved better than that.
Angela tucked some of her hair behind her ear, the curls trailing over her shoulder.
Jamal nodded in understanding and slowly slid out of the booth to stand.
“I’ll give you a ride back to your place then,” he said warmly.
The ride back was fairly quick, and Jamal got out of the vehicle to help her out and walk her to the door. As they stood there beside it, the towering man leaned in so close, almost too close. But he never tried to move in for a kiss.
“More beautiful than ever, even when you try to hide it beneath these stuffy clothes,” he remarked, and with one hand he reached up to brush the backs of his fingers over her dark curls.
She looked away, shaking her head as she sighed.
“I just don’t know why you had to come back right now. Just... when I need you the most.”
She felt so warm beneath her blouse, the itch of her pantyhose mildly successful in keeping her libido in check. And yet still, her gaze slowly went up to his.
Jamal’s face showed the procession of emotions, the worry, the relief, the love. He let his fingers brush over her cheek, stroking her smooth, unblemished skin on her back, then on to her sleek, dark curls that he loved so much.
“I’m never goin’ away when you need me again, not if there’s anyth
in’ on this earth I can do to prevent it,” he pledged in a low husk, finding himself nearing her. Those lips of his so achingly close they were nearly kissing.
But Angela pulled away. She wasn’t ready for that. Wasn’t even sure if she wanted that. Not yet.
“Jamal,” she whispered, and loved how that name sounded on her tongue, but she couldn’t let it go further yet.
He nodded slowly in understanding, and retreated from her casually as he let his fingers graze along her curls one last time.
“I’ll be thinkin’ of you,” he said, and a promise from that tall, dark giant was solid. He backed away, went to his car, but refused to go until she was safe and sound inside the building.
She made her way up, slowly, filled with that gnawing sense of pain and loneliness and uncertainty. She didn’t know what to do, and could only pray that a good night’s sleep would help her see more clearly.
Chapter 7
Romy stood off in the distance, just down the road. He’d just come from the dank bar, and was keeping an eye upon Angela’s place when they pulled up. He’d hoped to catch her coming home, after he’d finished his business, but what he saw instead…
The young man seethed.
His fists clenched and he reached for a jacket pocket that bulged with something heavy inside. He hesitated though, as Angela went up into her building.
Quickly, Jamal blew a kiss at her building and got in his car.
It was all over like that.
Though seeing the two of them so cozy, him leaning in to kiss her…
He couldn’t see that their lips never met. Jamal had blocked the view too much.
So all Romy had in him was that jealous anger.
Chapter 8
Angela had tried to give Romy a call that next day, but she got no answer from the man. It frustrated her, in part because she desperately needed to hear his voice, as well as the fact that it made it harder for her to figure out what to do.
She’d planned on coming clean about knowing Jamal, but didn’t want to do it so impersonally.
Instead, she sent a text asking him to call her before going to the pile of money she’d hidden beneath her mattress. She had no idea what to do with it. It had been so long since she’d seen that much money, and Jamal had usually handled it for her. All of the bank accounts, the convoluted way of making sure everything seemed legit.
So she did the only thing she could, and counted it, let it feel real. It was the only thing in her life she felt certain about at that point.
But even that couldn’t distract her for long, and she tossed one of the rubber band wads away, hearing it thunk against the wall. It was just another representation of how desperate she was, how unhappy she felt. A physical manifestation of something she hoped would calm her mind, but instead it only added stress.
She stood up, padded barefoot towards the bathroom. Pulling back her long, dark hair, she looked into the mirror and saw herself staring back.
“What am I going to do?” she asked it, as though her reflection would hold the answers she needed. As if it could help her sort through her tumultuous emotions, and how Jamal had said all the things she so desperately had hoped he’d say over the course of those four years without him.
Seeing him again made her realize just how much that breakup had fucked with her head, how desperate she’d been to prove to herself she wasn’t useless without him. But instead, without him as an anchor to keep her safe and protected, she’d almost drowned.
She was still almost drowning.
How close had she gotten to getting completely fucked up again? A few minutes away, at best?
She shook her head at her mirror, tears blurring the vision and making it seem fragmented. Her fingers reached out for that reflective surface, simply needing to feel it and know she was still solid.
Jamal would protect her from herself.
Chapter 9
The obnoxious roar of the motorcycles’ engines were a constant disruption to Angela’s life. Though that day they were particularly bad. She supposed it was the fact they woke her up at 4AM that really did it, hearing them again in the middle of the afternoon was just salt in the wound.
With a bitter expression she was drawn to the window to look out and… do what? Scowl at them in private, most likely. That was about all she ever did, or would dare.
For once, though, she saw a surprise. There was Romy talking with the bikers again just down from her place outside the bar.
The guy who hadn’t texted or called her back.
Her eyes narrowed but she didn’t linger at that window to stare out at him. Instead she grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling them both on with complete disregard for her undergarments. Bringing her fists to her hair, she pulled it back and glanced in the hallway mirror as she pulled on her shoes.
She certainly didn’t look glamorous, having just woken up, but she was in a hurry.
She couldn’t understand why Romy was, all of a sudden, avoiding her and her stomach was tense with worry about what could have happened.
Grabbing her keys she quickly ran down the stairwell, sprinting towards him for a second before remembering she wasn’t wearing a bra and slowing to a trot.
When she emerged from the building she received a sharp whistle. The three men on their motorcycles all appreciated the view of her bouncing bosoms at the very least.
Though as she looked around in the mid afternoon sun, she could see no sign of Romy.
“Hey babe, come bounce those over this way,” said one of the bikers, short and stocky, greasy looking asshole. Though the tall one smacked him in a quiet sign to shut up.
It took her a moment to recognize that one, his hair sleek and slicked back, but he was the hard looking man she’d seen threaten Romy before. His aquiline features not quite as weathered as the last time she saw him. He continued to smoke and eyed her up and down.
“Lookin’ good,” he called to her, his gaze intense. Everything about that man spoke of the fact he was a guy you didn’t fuck with. Even Jamal knew better than to mess with him and his fools upon first glance, after all.
But she wasn’t in the mood, her brows narrowed and her arms folded beneath her breasts, though that did little to reduce the attention given to her large chest.
“Where’s the guy you were just talkin’ with?” she asked, trying to sound calm and unbothered by their threatening presence, and their crass assessment of her body. She might have been flattered, at another point in time, but she was irritable from the lack of sleep and the fact that Romy was avoiding her.
The leader leaned back against his bike and blew out a cloud of smoke as he eyed her. He wore the typical sort of biker gear, though since the last time she’d seen him, it looked sleeker, more expensive. A high collared leather jacket that fit him snugly, cowboy boots that even sported some spurs.
“That pipsqueak?” he said, his voice so deep and gravelly it made Jamal sound downright soft. “What’s a real woman like you want with that kid anyhow?” he asked, head tilted back just a bit as he looked her over shamelessly.
“I just need to talk to him,” she said, avoiding the question, but meeting his gaze. She could look hard when she needed to, and she hoped she did then with her narrowed eyes and downturned lips. “Just let me know, huh?”
The towering man tossed his cigarette to the cement sidewalk and stood up. He ground it out beneath his heel, taking his time, then very casually strode over toward her. He was an ominous sort of figure, not built like Jamal but lanky, though with all that leather he looked bulkier.
He got within distance of her, looking down his angular nose. He licked his lips and looked at the sidewalk over her head then back to her.
“You’d do yourself a lot better if you talked with the right sorta man,” he stated in that hard voice of his, smelling of fragrant smoke.
It was a stupid idea to rush down to find Romy, but she needed to talk to him. To figure it out. It hadn’t yet occurred to her t
hat maybe he’d simply lost interest, given her up in favour of a new toy. He seemed so into her, it was hard to conceive that.
Yet there he was, up and about, and in her neighbourhood, and still avoiding her.
Angela’s stomach churned as she looked up at the biker.
“I have all the men I need in my life right now, thanks. So if you could just tell me where he is, I’d appreciate it.”
“A lady like you?” the biker said, stepping up closer to her yet again, looking her over shamelessly. “I wouldn’t think you’d get enough that easily. Would figure you’d need a dozen fellas like that punk to keep you satisfied,” he stated lowly, his voice so dark and low, the other thugs couldn’t have heard it.
Angela couldn’t hide the fact that his words caused her to feel a bit hot under the collar but she forced her eyes away. Licking over her lips she swallowed, feeling suddenly so small and vulnerable under the afternoon sun.
“I just really need to talk to him is all,” she finally breathed out, her emerald eyes going back to his blue.
“Shame,” he said, his gaze upon her as he rolled his broad shoulders. “Because I’d love to spend some time talkin’ with you myself.” He tongued the middle seam of his lower lip. “I bet we’d find out we have a whole hell of a lot in common, you and me,” he stated. “Intersecting interests, at least,” he added with a wry grin.
He reeked of trouble. Yet up close and personal with him, it was undeniable that he had an air of calm control, mixing with that imposing, ominous nature.
She ran her hand along her ponytailed hair, looking at him intently.
“I’m taken,” she said simply.
Romy had lured her in with his boyish charms even though she thought he might be shady.
But the biker? Oh, she’d only go at it with him if she had a death wish and a lust for trouble. He was the guy she would have gone with after Jamal left her broken hearted. The guy that’d be the cause and solution for all her problems.
