Page 31 of Wicked Believer
Clearly, I’m not even allowed to go into my own apartment alone anymore.
With a surreptitious glance, I approach the door that leads to mine and Jax’s second-story flat. Mrs. Huang watches me warily, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Fo’ customers,” she says in heavily accented English, pointing to the now-empty street parking.
I make an apologetic expression. “Sorry, Mrs. Huang. It won’t happen again.”
She makes a little harrumph noise like she doesn’t exactly believe me, but then she smiles as soon as I flash the black company Mastercard Lucifer gave me.
Twenty minutes later I’m loaded up with enough Chinese food to feed the whole security team and then some, as well as Jax and me.
I pass some of the food to Miller for the other members of the team—who I’m not entirely certainneedto eat, but I figure it’s polite to offer anyway—before I heft the remaining food bag onto one hip and make my way up the narrow, drooping stairs. Mine and Jax’s apartment used to be an old tenement building, and despite that it and the storefront below have been refurbished plenty of times since, it shows.
When I reach the top, it takes me a moment to find my keys buried at the bottom of my Louboutin purse with Garcia watching me like a hawk from only two steps below. He lifts a waxy paper bag stuffed with egg rolls in thanks, the little red dragon on the outside crinkling. I manage to find my keys a few seconds later, and I shove the right one into the lock and twist.
The door opens, and a loud burst of music greets me.
“Charlotte, what are you doing here?” Jax smiles from ear to ear before tapping off whatever Spotify playlist she was playing. She hurries across the room to help me with the bags.
I open my mouth, almost ready to say,Why wouldn’t I be here?
After all, it’s my apartment too.
Though honestly, I haven’t been around much in a few weeks. I’m still paying rent, and all my old stuff is here, but even in my head, saying so sounds bitchy, and the other two faces on the sofa stop me.
Ian and Evie.
“Charlotte!” Evie comes up off the sofa to quickly kiss both my cheeks. A habit I think she picked up from her late Moroccan model of a mom, who, based on the photos I’ve seen, could’ve pretty much been her twin.
I finish greeting her, closing the door before I’m forced to face Ian.
“Hi,” I say, lifting my hand awkwardly.
“Hi,” he says, like he isn’t exactly pleased to see me.
We both stand there for a strained beat.
The last time we were together, Ian made it pretty clear he had feelings for me.
Feelings that I ... don’t reciprocate.
And no matter how kind he’s been or how unfounded, I still can’t squash my sneaking suspicions that he may have been more involved when Jax was drugged at Azmodeus’s club than he seemed to be.
We never did find out who did it and why.
I force a weird smile, not knowing whether to hug him and try to play it friendly or leave our cringy greeting at that. Finally he turns to say something to Evie that I don’t really register. I nearly sigh in relief.
Good. Now that we’ve gottenthatout of the way.
I turn my attention back toward Jax, who makes an exaggerated yikes face and mouths the wordawkwardnow that Ian’s not looking before she pulls me in for a squeezy hug.
“So, what are you doing here?” she says. “Don’t tell me you were just in the neighborhood.”
I glance toward our other two friends, unsure how much I want to share in front of them. “I just thought I’d come home for the night, that’s all.”
The words settle over the room like a wet blanket.
Jax and Evie look toward one another uncertainly.
