Page 20 of Obliterated
I lean back on the stool, stub the smoke out hard before I speak. “Let’s just say I don’t like loose ends. And you kind of owe me.”
He glares, stubborn little bastard, and his voice sharpens. “I could’ve been somewhere else if you hadn’t butted in at the docks. Not staring down the fate of getting fucked in the ass every night.”
My brows lift. Didn’t expect the crude honesty. Then my face ices over when the weight of his words sinks in. “Did Joyeus violate your underage status? Did she send men to your room?”
His eyes widen at the wrath in my tone, the look I pin him with, something between fury and a fucking promise. “What? No. Fuck no. She hasn’t. I just meant… in the future.”
I throw back a long swallow of my drink, the burn tearing down my throat, and set the glass down hard enough to rattle against the wood. The storm in my chest settles by a fraction before I speak again.
“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” My gaze cuts into him, holds him there. “I need you because you have access here. To the rooms and the people. Always tinkering with that little medical kit of yours. Fixing cuts, stitching flesh. No one notices you slipping in and out.”
His lips part, shock flickering across his face. “How do you know—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You know what? I don’t want to know.”
The corner of my mouth twitches, the closest thing I’ve had to a smile in weeks. “Good, he’s learning.”
He stares at me for a beat, eyes dropping to my mouth, face warm, then… fucking bails. He’s grabbing orders, moving down the bar like he can outrun the heat between us. I track his movements anyway. The way his fingers push his golden hair back when it falls in his face. The way he bites his full bottom lip when he’s focused on pouring a drink. The way he keeps glancing my way, cheeks going red when he realizes I’m still watching.
Always watching.
Fuck this bullshit three ways to hell. I shouldn’t have gone to him when I got stuck digging into Joyeus. Maybe Tass was right, Idohave a thing for the bartender. For his lips at least. And the eyes. Maybe the ass.
Nope. Not happening. Not this. This doesn’t happen to me. Never has.
I throw the rest of my drink backward, welcome the burn down my throat, and slam the glass on the counter again. Maybe I should just fucking visit Noura, irritate her a bit, let her toss me into the Pit for a night. Feed me to Walkers until this fucking hunger in my chest is nothing but blood and bone dust.
But no. That’s the coward’s way out. Too easy. Too quick.
“So what’s this investigation exactly? Does it have something to do with this place?” he asks when he finally comes back, voice edged like he knows he kept me waiting.
He’s curious at least. Another step in the right direction.
“Let’s just say your handler isn’t as pure and polished as she looks to the outside world.”
He snorts, sharp and bitter. Then his gaze darkens. “Oh, she’s not pure at all. Everyone here knows it. I’d gladly help bring her down. Most of us would.”
I tear off a piece of bread, drag it through olive oil and sea salt, shove it between my teeth, and wave for him to go on.
“What’s in it for me?” he presses.
Simple enough. “Your freedom.”
His eyes go wide, mouth falling open. “What?”
“You heard me. Your freedom. My commander sits on the council. He has the power to grant it.”
I expect him to jump, to latch on. Instead, he swallows hard, something fierce flickering in those ocean eyes.
“I have conditions,” he says, steady, sharper than before. “If I do this—if I help you—then the others need to be safe too. Can this place change? Can it become somewhere only the willing stay in these jobs? Where no one gets dragged into this life without a choice?”
My brows rise. Didn’t expect that kind of backbone. I lean in, elbows on the bar, let my voice drop low enough only he can hear.
“You want to bargain with me, pretty? Fine. Here’s the truth: nothing on this island changes overnight. But if you give me what I need, if you help me nail Joyeus to the wall, then we get leverage. Leverage means power. Power means I can push. Maybe not for everyone all at once—but for you? For the ones close enough to matter?” My grin cuts sharp, dark. “Yeah. I can make sure they’re safe. I can make sure you’re safe. That’s the deal.”
His bravado dips, just for a second. Ocean eyes flick past me, toward the waitress collecting a tray at the far end of the bar. Toward the boy stocking shelves, knuckles scraped raw. He lowers his voice, almost a whisper. “You’ve seen how they treat us, right? How hard they push? Some of them barely make it through the week. They keep us upright with coin and chemicals, and when that runs out, they just… replace us.”
Replace us.
There it is. The slip I was waiting for. Proof of what I already suspected. My hunch in asking him pays off. It’s confirmation that Joyeus treats her staff like coin to be spent and tossed aside, to be replaced by others.But who?This is exactly the kind of leverage Roe needs.
