Page 129 of XOXO

Fuck me, I want Dalia, and not just for one night.

Shit.

Chapter Seven

DALIA

“Too good to be true.”

Two weeks later…

Something changed after Dekker told the waitress to fuck off. Our conversation for the rest of the night became stilted. We had been having a good time, talking about our time in the military and stories about things we got up to and saw, the places we’ve been. His being a seal means he saw a lot of fucked up shit, but he kept it light. He told me a few stories about things he and his team got up to. And about how they are still in touch; a few are prospecting for the Vegas club, with a few more planning to come here to Cali and do the same once they’re discharged.

The entire night, I kept searching for that feeling of being annoyed and bored. It never came. I never once made an excuse to go to the bathroom to psych myself up and put my game face back on. I didn’t need to send my best friend an SOS text to call me with an emergency to get me out of there. Things had been going well until they weren’t.

My phone rings, pulling my thoughts away from the man who has been the focus of my illicit dreams. The one who was true to his word.

“Yeah,” I say, answering as I take a few more money shots of the cheating prick I’ve been tailing.

“We got a problem,” Jackson says over the line. His tone has me sitting up from my perch. Jackson always sounds like he’s bored, so the tone of his voice has my interest peaked.

“Okay. Hit me with it.” I say.

“Your boy…” There is a pause, as if he is waiting for me to correct him. I could, but then it would give him credence to his assumption. And best friend or not, I’m not opening that can of worms. “He has a warrant out for his arrest, and the award is two hundred k.”

“First, who is my boy? Second, don’t start shit?” I snipe. “Shit.” My foot slips.

“Boss, boss, you hear me?” Jackson’s deep voice pierces through.

Quickly shove my shit in my bag and head to my bike. If Jackson is talking about Dekker, I need to go to the club and speak to him and Talon; if I have this info, others may have it, too.

“Yeah, I’m here. I dropped my shit and nearly broke my damn camera. Again, who is my boy? And what else do you know?” I say as I straddle my bike.

It should only take me about an hour to get from where I am to the clubhouse.

On my ride, Jackson fills me in on what the report says and the charges. And then he fills me in on what he could gain independently. Because I run my own private investigation and bail bonds company. I have alerts set up for all the brothers in the club. I did it after shit went down with Danika. As much as Jackson hates it, I’m determined to keep my sisters shielded by knowing who is in their lives and whether they will bring or be a problem. It makes me feel better. It has always been my job to protect my sisters from the darkness in the world. Jackson has spent all our lives trying to get me to put myself first, but it’s how I was conditioned and raised. I’m already broken; why bother changing who I am now?

There is a possibility that the club already knows. Gabriella, the Prez’s ol’ lady, runs a security firm. Just in case, I need to make sure they have all the information I have. Her people are good, but she has asked me and Jackson to join her on more than one occasion. He and I are well-known in our industry. We have a way of getting information and getting to people faster than most. We were the ones who could get Danika back after her kidnapping. This is also why I am adamant about knowing about everyone in my sister’s life. I enjoy being my own boss and making the rules. Occasionally, I work with her on cases, but I do my thing otherwise.

Jackson tells me that Dekker's ex is an idiot, and her brother is in on it. From what he found, they claim Dekker has been harassing, stalking, and threatening Veronica–the ex. The idiot and her brother claimed that two weeks ago, Dekker broke into Veronica’s place and assaulted her, not sexually. The report shows she had some cuts and bruises because of the attack. The problem is it supposedly happened the night Dekker and I were on our date. He couldn’t be with me here in Sacramento and Vegas simultaneously.

Chapter Eight

DALIA

“You can’t handle the truth.”

Walking into the clubhouse, I spot Dekker almost immediately. My strides are confident as I walk toward him. My face is neutral as I say my hellos. I don’t know what I expected, but the look in his eyes is not it. I’ve seen him in passing over the last few weeks. And have tried not to be where he is or make things awkward. Dekker made his stance known. Who am I to try to change his mind? I don’t chase men.

“What you doing here, Dalia?” He asks, sounding bored. His eyes narrow as the whore nearly sitting in his lap sneers at me.

To anyone else, that question may seem normal and mundane. But it’s not. Dekker’s face may be neutral, but his eyes are void of warmth and hold a hint of hostility. The man before me wasn’t the one who laughed, joked, and flirted with me. A resigned breath leaves me. This is always how it goes.

My brows crease, I didn’t expect him to welcome me with open arms. The hostility rolling off him is unexpected and unwarranted. I know the date was a one-off, but why be an asshole now? My head bobs up and down slowly. I’m not all that surprised. I know what the brothers in the club think of me. Why would I believe one date would make someone like him see me differently? I wasn’t looking for anything with him, but I expected us to be cordial. Guess that’s too much to ask. I didn’t come looking for him until now, and the only reason I’m here has nothing to do with the date.

Of course, instead of getting to know me, he listened to them, to her. My jaw clenches. It doesn’t matter. My face blanks as I look at him and say what I came to. Cold indifference laces my voice.

“There is a warrant for your arrest in the state of Nevada.” My eyes remain on him, ignoring the whore next to him, who is trying to put on a show by rubbing against him.

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