In the Shadows (The Club, #10) (8 page)

She ignored his attempt at distraction. “You two didn’t know each other before tonight?”

He snorted. “No.”

“She seems to know an awful lot about you.”

Zeke’s face shifted. Those incremental movements somehow made him that brusque, cold man who walked on the opposite side of the street. It was unnerving to witness that change after the way he’d started to open up with her.

“She doesn’t know anything. I like it that way.”

“Makes it kind of hard to get close to you though. If you’re in a relationship, that is.”

He didn’t say anything to that. All the flutters she’d felt in the restaurant when Zeke claimed her in front of his friend died in that silence.

They reached the car. He helped her inside, joined her, and started the engine. It purred while they sat there. She was about to say something when Zeke reached up and gripped the steering wheel. “I should get you home.”

“That’s it?”

His knuckles whitened as his fingers tightened. “Yeah.”

“Then I guess you're right.”

The drive back was painful. It was infuriating to not know anything about Zeke’s past while a woman like Delilah was clearly privy to a number of details. Worse though was the weight of knowing that she wasn’t good enough for Zeke to confide in.

“You’re upset.”

She blinked and looked over at him. The passing streetlights’ glow flickered over his face as they drove down the quiet streets. There was a cheekbone. Now those lips, still frowning. The edge of his chin. A brief moment of blue as an eye was illuminated. But never one complete picture.

“I’m not upset,” she answered. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

She heard his amusement. “I doubt that’s a good thing.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Zeke. It’s taking me a while to figure you out.”

“Nothing to figure out.”

Okay, she’d managed to remain mostly neutral until that statement. “Well, seeing how our dinner date was ruined because of something you don’t want to talk about, I’d argue that.”

His frustrated growl made her feel a little better. He didn’t try to defend himself. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he drove her back to her apartment and walked her to her door. Didn’t ask to come inside, didn’t offer to make good on his promise of spending the night together. Instead, he kissed her cheek and headed back toward his car.

Maybe it’s better this way,
the rational side of her pointed out as she stepped into the apartment and locked the door.
You’ve been with men who didn't communicate before, remember? It’s one of the reasons you left Napa to come here. You barely know this guy, so it’s not like you’ll miss him when it’s over.

She dropped her keys in the dish by the door and continued on to her bedroom, kicking her heels off into her closet and slipping out of her dress. She’d almost convinced herself that getting over Zeke wouldn’t be too hard when she noticed the tiny blinking light of the window alarm.

An alarm he’d put up to make sure she was safe.

“Damn it,” she muttered as she yanked the curtains closed. “This one’s going to hurt.”

L
ike shit rolling down hill,
Zeke thought as he scrubbed himself one last time and rinsed off in the locker room shower.
This damn week gets better and better...

Three days after the dinner date, he’d finally gotten the balls to call Vivian. She hadn’t called him back yet, even though he’d been desperate enough to call again and leave a more obvious “I’d like to talk and make up for being such a dick” message. And now he wasn’t going to be able to work for a few days and would be tempted to visit Divine Twins like some love-struck idiot so he could see her and try to apologize in person.

He would understand if she told him to take a flying leap off the nearest bridge. He'd really screwed up. Maybe tonight was his karmic comeuppance.

The night hadn’t started craptastically, but it had gone there with a skip in its step in no time flat. Two hours into his shift, a drunk group of college boys with too much of their daddies’ money decided that they wanted to crash The Club. Zeke had been sent to support Luis, their bouncer. Smart move, considering the escalation punctuated by a beer bottle thrown at Luis.

He’d ducked, but the glass shattering against the brick wall sent shrapnel spinning out. Zeke, who’d been dealing with a different prick, caught a chunk of it with his forehead, in addition to getting splashed by the brew. Once the blood started flowing, two of the kids jumped in the car and took off. The other three tried to get into the building by force.

Zeke enjoyed putting them down. Due to Mr. Mak’s reputation, it was necessary to do that quickly, quietly, and with the least amount of fuss possible. There was no need to involve the police once the young men were lying comfortably on the ground; Preston simply called their fathers and the problem resolved itself.

The cut he’d gotten, not so much. The bar towel one of the waitresses brought to him kept him from dripping while he disappeared back to the Suits’ building. Once he was safely out of sight of the patrons, a concerned Beebee had descended on him. It had taken too much of his time and energy to convince her that he didn’t need to go to the hospital. Okay, so he may have threatened to tell Mr. Mak he was quitting if she didn’t leave him alone, but how could he explain to her that this little injury was hell and gone from the torture he’d endured as a POW?

She backed off once she realized his threat was serious. She still called Mr. Mak, but it was determined that Zeke wouldn’t have to go to the hospital unless he couldn’t handle the injury himself. It only took five minutes for him to close the cut with butterfly bandages and superglue. The cluster came from the cut’s placement. Right above his left eyebrow, slicing back toward his hairline. It must have been too much to ask that it could be hidden by his hair. At least three days away from work to see if it healed up. Once he didn’t look like he’d been in a barroom brawl, he’d be back in the rotation.

“Irish? You in here?”

Preston coming down from his celestial throne? The world must be ending.

“Showering,” Zeke called back. He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying off before wrapping it around his waist and emerging into the locker room. Preston waited for him, leaning against a locker.

“Boss said you’re getting time off. How bad is it?” he asked, gesturing at Zeke’s head.

“Nothing serious, but in a fecking awful place.”

Preston gave a low whistle when Zeke turned his head to show him. “Damn. No way to hide that. Sorry about the little shits.”

Zeke shrugged. “Part of the job, right?”

Preston’s smile came with a nice edge. “Let’s just say they’re unlikely to cause any problems in the future.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Zeke's mouth and he turned to get dressed. “Daddy not to happy?”

Silence. Then he realized why. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that Preston was staring at his back. Zeke straightened and turned back, crossing his arms over his chest and hoping his boss didn’t ask any questions. “Sir?”

To his credit, Preston pulled his shit together faster than most people blindsided by the sight. “When there’s the possibility your membership will be revoked because Junior acted like an ass? Safe to say Daddy’s making some mea culpa to Mr. Mak. You’re heading home, right?”

“Yeah. Don’t know what I’ll do with my spare time, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

His boss nodded slowly. Too slowly. Something was running through his mind.

“Anything else you wanted to say, sir?”

“Rewatched the footage before I came down here.”

No response was the safe response now.

“Awfully good at your job, Irish.”

“Yessir.”

“Even wonder if it’s getting too easy?”

Every damn day.
“Your point, sir?”

“Would hate to see you take a giant fucking step back.”

He got the message. Preston didn’t spook easily, so he must have seen something on that video that bothered him. Worse, Zeke didn’t know what it could have been. He’d been too wrapped up in the moment, in the chilling calm that always came for him.

There was little he could say other than, “Understood, sir.”

Preston straightened. “Take care of yourself, Irish.”

He left The Club on autopilot, slipping into his car and driving out of the private lot, mulling over the fight. He may not have reacted in front of Preston, but the blank space in his memory was frightening in a way he hadn't experienced since returning stateside. Bad things happened in those blank spaces, things he couldn't take back.

It took him a minute to realize where he was. He'd crossed the street and sat idling in the back parking lot of Divine Twins. It made no sense. Vivian hadn't called him. A light coming from one of the windows didn't guarantee that it was her inside the building. Most importantly, he didn't have a right to stop by and check up on her, especially not at this god-awful hour of the morning.

His body had a mind of its own though and he found himself staring at the door, stomach in weird knots. He knocked, silently ran through a series of foul thoughts at his stupidity, and tried to decide if he could run back to his car. Footsteps approaching the door prevented his escape. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and prayed that he didn't terrify some poor worker who found him hiding in the shadows.

When the door didn't open, he rested his weight back on his heels and called out, "Viv? You in there?"

That did the trick. Locks disengaged and a sliver of light appeared when the door opened a crack.

"Zeke, what are you doing here?"

God, just her voice was enough to send a cascade of lewd thoughts through his head. How was it possible to have this kind of a connection with a woman after such a short amount of time? And why the hell did the few days he'd been out of contact with her feel like a lifetime?

"I'm sorry."

The door opened a little more and he could finally make out a slice of her face and body thanks to the dim outside light. Her hair was pulled up, her sleeves pushed above her elbows, and a well-used apron covered her soft curves. Her expression was one of cautious amusement and it hurt more than he liked to know that he was responsible for her guardedness.

"Thank you?" she offered. "You didn't have to stop by to say that though. I got your message."

Damn.
So it was a conscious choice to not call him back, despite his earlier attempts at salvaging the situation.
Time to go, idiot.

"Ah, good. Well, just felt it was only right to tell you in person too. So...yeah..." He looked around him, grateful for the pre-dawn darkness. At least then no one would see the flush that was burning over his face. He gave her a curt nod. "See you around."

***

I
n her recent days of moping, Vivian had allowed herself the luxury of imagining situations when she'd run into Zeke again.

Sometimes she was the sexy, confident woman walking boldly into The Club, on special invitation from Mr. Mak or another Karim bigwig, passing Zeke with a toss of her hair and making him regret losing her to another man who could appreciate her and satisfy her insatiable sexual urges.

Other times, it was something out of a rom-com. He'd walk into her bakery, all doe-eyed and miserable, proclaiming his undying affection for her mind and body. She'd spurn him, sending him on his way, only to listen to her customers' advice to forgive him. A short race down the street in a light rain would end with her catching up to him and kissing him while cars stopped around them, filled with applauding drivers.

Sometimes it was less fantasy and more the mundane hope that they'd go out on one more date and he'd talk to her, tell her about his past, and they'd decide to give it another shot.

Anything but this.

"See you around?" she asked, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"I..." It was comical to watch his awkward shrug, his hands still trapped in his pockets, his shoulders hunching protectively. "I just wanted to apologize."

"Which you've done several times now without specifying
what
you're apologizing for. I mean, is this an
I'm sorry I let it get this far since I'm giving up on you
sorry, or an
I just realized I'm kind of acting like a new stalker and don't want you to think I'm crazy
sorry?"

His forehead furrowed. "How about
I'm sorry I was a dick at dinner
?"

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an order to finish up."

She tried to close the door on him, but he reached out and placed a hand against it. "Viv, I mean it. We were doing fine before that fecking dinner–"

"You're right."

Stand-off. She didn't have anything to lose though. He was the one seeking her out, not the other way around. And if he wanted her back, he'd better prove it. It took him a long time to start talking again.

"My past isn't something nice women like. They like the fame, but not the rest of the shit that comes after serving in a combat zone. Leaving is usually easier for them."

"Easier is overrated. You don't think I should decide whether I want to stay with you or not? A bit egotistical."

"Probably."

"I'm a grown woman, Zeke. I'm not going to sneak out of your bed one night and move across the country to get away from you. We'd at least have a conversation before we decide to not see each other anymore."

"Thought you weren't planning on returning my calls." His voice may have been neutral, but lines of tension gathered around his eyes and mouth. The stiffening of his shoulders. He was pissed that she hadn't called him back.

"I needed some time to think. And then I got slammed with a bunch of orders, so you were moved to the back burner." She couldn't help defending herself a little bit. "Besides, it didn't seem like you were up for a bunch of open communication at the time."

"I am now."

"I have a cake to finish."

His lips set in a stubborn line. "I can wait."