Page 14 of Bred By the Mercenary

“Okay.” I nod to Jessi, keeping my expression neutral. “Thanks for letting me know.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly, with endless interruptions, being asked to sign checks and placing orders for more beer. When I go down to the bar, I see the team in real action. Despite how half-hearted they came across in the interviews, here they are, a well-oiled machine, seamlessly helping each other out. I have to admit, I’m impressed.

I bought this place to get closer to Amelia, but there’s something rewarding to see a team already so well established that it drives me to make this place a success.

The layout of the joint has a rustic feel, with chairs and tables scattered across the long room, the stools by the bar alwaysoccupied. The air’s thick with the mingling scenes of liquor, bears, and a hint of polished wood. It’s busy tonight, the chatter blocking out most of the song playing from the speakers. All while the staff move with fluid efficiency.

There’s a lot of potential in growing this place, making it profitable once more. I have enough money not to worry about profit, but I’m not a person who sees himself running a bar during retirement. But when I sell it, I damn sure will make double what I paid for it.

Moving through the bar, I exit the front door where an older couple is heading inside. I move to stand closer to my car and pull out my phone, my mind unable to leave Amelia. What I want is to go speak to her now and smooth out what’s messed up between us.

I’m messaging her before I know it.

Hey, it’s Daxton. Heard you weren’t feeling well today.

To my surprise, I watch those three little dots jiggling almost immediately, then her message pops up.

Yep, I just needed a day off. Hope that’s OK, boss?

I chuckle to myself, a small victory she responded.

Just get better. Really want to talk to you.

There’s no reply. She’s gone silent again.

Staring up into the night, I feel lost about what the fuck I’m going to do about us, then a new message rings on my phone.

Not sure we have anything to talk about. There’s nothing between us, so better we leave it that way.

I stare at her words, reading them over and over, and I grin. She couldn’t be more wrong. I’m ready to take my time to showher, no matter how long it takes. That means entrenching myself into this role, and we do this the long way. I’ll wait for her, and in the meantime, I’ll make this place a fucking explosive success.

CHAPTER FOUR

AMELIA

Driving back to my apartment, I’m wrestling with my emotions. I’ve spent the night at a cheap motel, the only thing I could afford given my tight budget. Jessi is crashing on her sister’s couch since her rent went up, so asking her for a place to stay isn’t an option. And with no relatives anywhere close or who I’m talking to, plus a lack of close friends, I’m the only person I can rely on.

But I can’t keep running forever.

Once I get home, I’ll block the front door and call the cops at the first sign of Ryker. I’m even considering getting a restraining order against him. It’s all too overwhelming and terrifying, and that’s not even counting the mess of feelings I have for Daxton. I can’t deal with him right now, not with everything else piling up. Part of me just wants to break down and cry, but I’m not one to drown in my misery.

I grew up seeing my mother beaten down by my dad until she stopped standing up for herself, and I promised myself I’d never end up that way. This is why I should have known better than to date a dickhead like Ryker.

Once I arrive at my apartment, it’s past ten at night, and I park near the front door, scanning the area for any sign ofRyker. Seeing nothing, I hurry out of the car with my bag, dart into the building, and rush up the stairs. My arms are covered in goosebumps, and my nerves are on edge. In one hand, I hold my phone, and in the other, the pepper spray I bought today. It was an expense I can’t really afford, but I need to feel safe.

Reaching my place on the third floor, I go to unlock the door, only to find it swings open into darkness. My heart races, panic surging through me as I frantically flick on the light. The sight that greets me is devastating.

I gasp, and my stomach goes cold.

My apartment is completely trashed. The couch cushions are slashed, and drawers are dumped, with all my stuff strewn across the floor. My glass coffee table is smashed into pieces. Personal items, books, and clothes are scattered and torn.

Tears are in my eyes instantly as a sense of violation crawls up my spine.

I stand frozen in the doorway, shaking and scared. It has to be Ryker… who else would do this?

I’m rooted to the spot, unable to move. Somehow, I manage to call the police, my voice trembling as I explain the situation, but their response is disheartening—it’s a busy night, and they’ll try to dispatch someone. I know all too well that in this part of the city, break-ins aren’t a priority for the police, and most often, they never turn up.

A frantic sensation billows in my mind of what to do next, where to go.

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