Page 64 of Rule the Night
I tried to think of words to describe the Butchers without scaring Bailey or making her want to come over and get in their pants. “They’re… mysterious.”
She tipped her head. “Mysterious how?”
“Just… I still don’t know much about them. I don’t know what they do for work, and they made me sign an NDA.”
“Wait, they made you sign an NDA?”
She said it a little too loud, and I looked around worried someone might overhear. “Yeah, apparently it’s just a thing they do whenever someone’s in the house.”
“Are they mobsters or something?” she asked.
“I’m not getting that vibe.” It was hard to explain the high-end loft, the designer furnishings and expensive cars, the library and the gourmet kitchen.
The details made them sound like day traders or something, but that wasn’t the vibe either, and even if it was, it wasn’t like I could tell Bailey now that I’d signed the NDA.
“It’s weird, Maeve.”
“I know.” She didn’t need to tell me.
“And they don’t like…” She lowered her voice. “… make you do anything physical?”
“No, not at all.” I didn’t want to tell her that I was having a hard enough time keeping myself from wanting to do something “physical,” at least with Poe and Remy.
Bram hardly acknowledged my existence, which was fine since he still scared the shit out of me.
“Well, that’s good at least.” She stood. “I have to pee. Be right back.”
She threaded her way through the tables toward the restrooms at the back of the coffee shop. The sun was beginning to set, the place slowly emptying out as the after-work crowd headed home, which was probably why I finally noticed the man sitting at a table against the far window. Had he been there the whole time, hidden by the crowd? I didn’t know, but now I saw that it was Bram, sitting with a redhead about my age, deep in conversation.
The shock of it made me sit up straighter. He looked so… normal. Sure, he was still the size of two average men, and thescar that ran down one side of his face still made him look as menacing as all get out.
But his features were softer than usual, his mannerisms relaxed with the pretty redhead sitting across from him.
His girlfriend? The possibility made me feel funny in ways I didn’t want to analyze.
“Sorry,” Bailey said, returning from the bathroom. She followed my gaze. “What?”
“That’s one of them,” I said. “The guy by the window.”
She looked again. “Bram Montgomeryis one of the guys who forced you to live with them?”
“They didn’t force me,” I reminded her. “I agreed.”
She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me it was him?”
“I didn’t know it was a big deal. I’d never heard of him.” I looked at her again. “Wait, how doyouknow him?”
As private-school kids, Bailey and I were usually both out of touch when it came to local goings-on. Those seemed reserved for the townies who went to school together at Blackwell High, a world of its own.
“I don’t,” she said. “But I knowofhim. Everyone does.”
“Except for me.”
“I guess so. I’m surprised your parents didn’t mention him. It’s one of the reasons mine told me to stay away from Southside. They said his name like he was some kind of boogeyman.”
I looked over at Bram, sitting at the table with the redhead. He looked almost like a different person, his features soft as he spoke in low tones to the girl by the window.
Not a boogeyman. Just a man.
