Page 28 of Was I Ever Here

I would stop time just to hear her moan.

“I don’t have shit to steal, Byzantine, have youseenwhere I work?” she laughs and turns on her side to face me, the curves of her body a fucking crime in this position. Her voice snaps me out of my wandering thoughts, and I turn my gaze straight ahead.

But I’d much rather continue imagining all the dirty things I’d do to her. All the dirty things I willdo to her.

“Have you even slept yet?” I ask her. “I dropped you off only a few hours ago.”

“No, have you?” she responds, rolling onto her stomach, her feet up in the air, the yellow bikini barely covering the swell of her ass.

I swallow hard. My eyes linger on the smooth expanse of her skin while I answer her, my mouth dry. “No. But we’re not talking about me,” I say, flashing her a smile. “Come have coffee with me,” I add, standing up to rub the sand off my black jeans, then hold out my hand for her to take.

She looks up at me, her eyes squinting from the sun, and I try hard to ignore how enticing it is to have her at my feet.

Sunny’s answer lingers between the small intake of breath she takes. “I don’t know…” she says, uncertainty coloring her tone.

Her hand rests near her eyebrow, shading her from the sun to get a better look at me. “Not sure what the etiquette is for having coffee with my stalker,” she deadpans, but then laughs at her own joke, her laugh bright and sunny like her name.

I give her thigh a small shove with the tip of my boot, but say nothing and brandish my hand again, waiting for her to take it. Her eyes rove over my face, studying me, then finally she sighs and takes it.

“Fine, let’s go.”

Chapter 18

Sunny

Wesitdownatthe same booth I sat at with Lenix when we learned Gary’s body had been found. Now I’m having coffee with the man who killed him.

Funny how life is sometimes.

I stare down at my oat milk latte as Byzantine peers at me over his cup of black coffee. Of course he drinks his coffee black.

This feels too domestic. Us being here. I couldn’t imagine Byzantine doing anything as normal as sitting at a coffee shop. He feels larger than life. Although, I have started to get used to him being around all the time.

“So what do you do exactly?” I ask innocently.

He watches me, a boyish grin on his lips. His eyes are bright in the early morning sun, and I hate how my stomach slams into my throat at the sight.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

“You don’t want to know what I do, little sun,” he states, taking another sip of coffee.

“Like hell I don’t. What is it? Drugs? Guns? All of the above?”It’s probably all of the above.

“I’m part of The Sin Eaters, I’m sure you know that by now,” he answers, his lopsided smile widening.

“I know that, I also know that Connor runs the entire operation but what I’m asking is what doyoudo?” I push.

We continue our little staring contest until he concedes and answers me, “I launder money and oversee most of the legal side of our business, like Sammies—amongst other things.”

“Amongst other things…” I say sarcastically, “do you like it?”

“I’m the best at it.”

“That’s not what I asked”

“This isn’t why I invited you here,” he replies seriously.

“So why did you?”

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