Page 29 of Dark & Deceitful

My ex nods. “Yes. They’ve been briefed.”

This motherfucker.

“Why were our sons briefed, Dark?” Reaching inside my front pocket, I extract a small, tumbled obsidian crystal and slam it down on the table in front of him because he’s going to need it—for protection from me. I’m gonna murder him for real this time. It’s a miracle it doesn’t shatter under the force of my rage.

The jerk stares at the small stone with wide, expressive gray eyes, then at me. For a suspended moment, I think he’s going to do or say something, but then he blinks, and the cool mask of indifference descends, locking into place. One that can’t be penetrated because he no longer cares to care. He’s Dark, the businessman. Dark, the biker. He doesn’t have feelings. He’s a big, bad man.

Fuck him.

“Because I wanted them to be.” My ex shrugs as if this isn’t a big deal, but it’s an enormous deal to me.

“Dark,” I whisper-hiss.

“Yes?” he replies in his uppity, posh tone that makes my skin crawl.

“I told you,” Tarek announces as if he’s telling his father and brother they’ve done fucked up. Because they have.

But this Dark doesn’t care.

This Dark is a person I hate. Not the fake hate created from a broken heart and shattered dreams. The real kind, where you can’t even look at the asshole any longer. Because I know if I do, I’ll get up and leave and never turn back. I’ll ruin any chance I have of catching up with my boys. They are what I came here for. Not him. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.

Needing space, I remove myself from the table to use the ladies’ room. I take too much time washing my hands and staring at myself in the mirror for no reason other than to bide my time in hopes Marge will bring our food before I return.

Wanting to look nice for Tarek and Fog, I wore makeup today—smokey eyes and blood-red lips. I also put effort into my outfit since I haven’t been able to since the start of myjob—dark skinny jeans, a charcoal t-shirt with an Edgar Allen Poe quote on it, and black Chucks. Is it wildly fashionable? No. It’s comfortable and fitting for a biker bar.

The door to the restroom opens. Marge comes in with a concerned expression etched across her face. “What happened?”

Heaving a sigh, I lean my hip against the sink. “My ex is a dick.”

“Oh, honey, we know.” She waves the knowledge off. “We all know. Damn, fine man, fucked up and lost a damn fine woman. Even if I hadn’t asked Hank to give him onions, he would have done it on principle alone.” Sprier than she’s been all day, Marge swoops in and hugs me up tight, much like I suspect a grandmawould, had I ever known mine. Not realizing how much I needed this, I return the embrace with just as much strength, and Marge grunts. “Don’t break these bones now.”

Inhaling her familiar mixture of beer, cheap perfume, and fried food scent, I chuckle. “I won’t.”

Marge is the first to pull away but doesn’t go far when she thumbs toward the closed door. “I made a call. Figured you might need a little distraction.”

“Marge. What did you do?”

“I said I made a call.” The wicked woman smiles like she ate the canary and leaves me standing in the bathroom, watching the door suction itself closed with the nosiest hiss.

Then I hear a memorable voice before I see her.

The bathroom door slowly opens, and a blue-haired sprite of a woman walks in.

“Pixie!” I rush one of my oldest friends and hug her up, much like Marge did with me.

Her small arms wrap around my center as she giggles like a tinkly fairy at my enthusiasm. “Hey, Kali.”

Once I’ve gotten my fill, I pull back and give her a solid once-over. It’s been years since I last saw her in person. “You look amazing,” I gush, gesturing toward the bright tattoos flowing up both arms, now traveling onto her throat.

Not one to take compliments well, the shy woman blushes a thousand shades of crimson and combs a shaky hand through her hair. “Thanks. I think.” Unable to look at me, she stares at the white bathroom wall until her discomfort fizzles away.

There’s a quiet knock on the bathroom door.

“Kali. Marge said to get your…” The male clears his throat uncomfortably, like he can’t say the words.

“My bony ass out there?” I answer for him as a giant smile spreads across my face.

The door opens, revealing the smallest gap, and Axel, Pixie’s old man, peeks through it. “Care to join us?”

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