Page 30 of Pretty Heartache

I don’t have a good feeling about this. I tell myself Archer doesn’t seem bothered, so neither should I, but this wouldn’t be the first time Archer has pulled me into a situation I have no business being involved in. This entire thing reeks of the shit my father used to pull. Men like Soren played a hand in my father’s death, taking advantage of those with addictions.

Memories and trauma from my past make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I have no business being here.

“We don’t have to do this, Arch,” I rush out before Soren and his men get close enough to hear.

“It’ll be fine, Micah.” Archer turns his head, his green eyes begging me to have his back just one more time.

“That’s what you always say, and the outcome always takes a turn. We can leave right now. We can put all of this behind us.”

“Stop,” he warns, his eyes narrowing. “I can’t. I’m in too deep, and I need you on this. I need my best friend to have my back.”

“I can help you,” I offer. “Let mehelpyou.”

“Fuck, Micah. Please, stop.”

I sigh and close my eyes. I’ve always had his fucking back. My teeth practically crack as I grind my jaw.

Alarm bells ring in my mind. I shouldn’t be here. Archer shouldn’t be here.

I see my oldest brother’s eyes staring at me in disappointment. I see my father looking at me with admiration and pride.

“You’ve always been there for me,” he adds. “And Adeline.”

“Right.” I turn so Soren can’t read our lips. He hasn’t reached us yet. “Think of her. How do you think she would feel if she knew what you were doing right now? Who you were meeting…”

“I can’t. Not now.” He immediately shuts me down, barely moving his lips. “He’s almost here.”

I turn back around to face the room.

Soren smiles in our direction, his silver tooth glinting in the light. The shamrock tattoo in the corner of his left eye scrunches when he holds out his hand to Archer.

“Archer Mayfield,” he greets. Grasping onto Archer’s hand, he wraps both around his as they shake.

“Good to see you, Soren,” Archer replies.

While Archer and Soren greet one another, I find myself eyeing the two men standing behind Soren. They’re each dressed in similar suits. If I were to guess, they could be twins. The only distinction is the snake tattoo wrapped around one of the men’s necks, the head dipping below his Adam’s apple..

Despite the snake tattoo, the men are clean cut and crisp. Clearly, all of us stick out in this bar, but when I glance over my shoulder, the bartender appears unfazed. She dips a glass into soapy water, keeping her eyes trained on the boxing match playing on the small TV mounted in the corner.

Archer’s hand claps my shoulder. “This is my best friend, Micah Harding.”

“Holy shit, Mayfield.” Soren beams, his twinkling eyes dancing between Archer and me. “I didn’t realize you cozied up to corporate fuckers like the Hardings.”

I stiffen, straightening my back and holding my breath. I’m not unfamiliar with the hate that is tied to my name, but I certainly don’t want to hear it from a man as intimidating as Soren.

“Hey, hey.” Archer holds his hand up, grinning. “Micah is all good, man. He’s a family friend.”

“Is that so?” He raises his eyebrows. “If he has the reputation of his father, I don’t think it was wise for you to bring him with you.”

My throat swells. Soren must not be aware of my past. If he is, he doesn’t mention it. What situation has Archer gotten himself into? This meeting with Soren is more dangerous than anything we’ve done in the past.

“Micah isn’t anything like James Harding,” Archer reassures him.

“For your sake”—Soren leans in, his voice deepening as he lines his sharp, harsh glare at Archer—“you’d better hope to fucking hell he isn’t.”

“Hope isn’t necessary when I’ve known him all my life,” Archer reassures him. He’s attempting to portray confidence, but his neck bobs as his hands shake. He stuffs them into his pockets, attempting to hide his nervousness.

“Good.” Soren claps his tattoo-covered hands. “Now, down to business. What’s the status of my supply?”

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