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And as I sign, I see that familiar, blood-chilling smile come across Jay’s face.
Chapter Forty-Two
Hunter
Days pass since the meeting with Havoc and Mayhem, where Charlie’s babbling was about the most sensible thing presented. During those several days, where I feel like I’m dancing on a razor’s edge, just expecting to slip up and cut myself in half, every spare moment I grab with Emily is the best kind of heaven, where I can feel myself putting down roots with each smile she gives me or each time she makes Charlie laugh.
This can be home.
No, this is home, and whatever it takes, I’m going to make it that way.
“What’s going on? You look like you’re a million miles away,” she says to me after a bite of grilled cheese sandwich. We’re in some diner not too far from the courthouse. It’s closer to the law than I’d like to be, especially now that I’m just days away from being part of a bloody massacre at an underground casino — a massacre that I hope comes after my friend and I infiltrate and interrogate-slash-torture whoever we need to in order to get information about Moretti’s men — but with the tense state of my life lately, I’d be willing to walk into the courthouse itself just to spend time with Emily.
“Stuff with the MC’s getting complicated. They’re putting me in on one last job before they initiate me, and it’s the kind of thing you’re better off not knowing about.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, eyes somehow lost in her coffee cup. It’s her third this lunch, and she hasn’t even finished her grilled cheese.
“Where are you at?”
She’s quiet for a while. Too long for my comfort. “Here. Nowhere,” she says, then she sighs. “This paper, it’s just really hard right now. And with everything going on with Maggie and me possibly being charged for that incident, I can’t focus.”
Her phone buzzes, and she picks it up, looks at it for a fraction of a second, just long enough to frown, and then puts her phone face down on the table.
“More court stuff?” I say, leaning in.
“Kind of. I might be able to make a deal. It’s just… it has me feeling icky.”
“Will it get you out of jail time?” I say. It’s easy to see how a civilian like her would feel reluctant about cutting a deal, especially if it means taking a plea and admitting guilt, but she needs to understand just how much her being free from jail means to so many — to her friends, to her coworkers, to me, to Charlie, and to herself and her future.
“It would wipe everything. Just make it go away,” she says in a far-off voice.
"Then you should take it," I say, reaching across the table to take her hand. "Whatever it is, if it means you're free, it's worth it."
Emily's eyes meet mine, and I see a conflict there I don't fully understand. "It's not that simple, Hunter. The deal... I… don’t want to talk about it. It’s complicated, it’s painful, and even though I think it might be the right thing to do in the end, I’m not happy about it.”
“Not happy about not going to jail?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it. Not unless you want to tell me what plan the MC has for you that has you feeling frustrated?”
A flicker of something very un-lovelike runs through me, and I see a similar emotion echo in Emily’s eyes.
“What are you doing? Why are you pushing on something you definitely don’t need to know?” I say. For a moment, I consider asking her where she was the other night when she was supposed to be doing her paper. But I know if I do, she’ll push back and pry into what I’ll be doing with Havoc and Mayhem, and telling her we plan to hit The Red Room, kill that underground casino’s leadership, and make sure that organization is wiped off the face of the earth, is not a good idea, for me or her; she doesn’t need to be made an accomplice to multiple homicides.
She sighs and rubs her temples. “I’m sorry, Hunter. It’s just all this stress has me losing my mind. I can’t hardly focus on work, much less do the quality writing I need to do in order to have a paper I’m confident about. Every day just feels so gray and pointless and devoid of life. I just want this to be over so I can get back to us being us, and me being me.”
I reach across the table and take her by the hand. “I get it. You’re stressed and feeling so much pressure, you’re worried you’re going to explode. Let me help you.”
A sigh, then she shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, I thought meeting you for lunch would help, but even now, it’s like every little thing just pushes me toward the edge of this cliff. What can you do to help?”
I squeeze Emily's hand, feeling her tension through her skin. My heart aches seeing her like this, but I can't deny how stunning she looks right now. The stress has brought a flush to her cheeks, and her eyes seem to shine even brighter, like polished emeralds catching the light.
"Hey," I say softly, leaning in closer. "Why don't you call Maggie and tell her you're going to be late coming back from lunch?"
Emily's brow furrows. "Why? What are you thinking?"
I let a slow smile spread across my face. "I've got an idea about how we can help with that stress of yours. Something that might make you forget about all this for a little while."
Her eyes widen slightly, and I see a flicker of interest there, pushing back against the worry that's been clouding her features. She bites her lower lip, considering.
