Page 21 of Take Me to Church
Because I’m not. This is different.
I’m just not sure she would see it that way.
Damien doesn’t look bothered at all by my aggressiveness. If anything he looks amused. “I think your girl is a little more attentive than you realize.” He leans back in his seat, taking a small sip from the tumbler in his hand. “She made me before we even got here.”
I have a hard time believing that. Lydia’s many things, but street-smart is not one of them. “That’s not possible.”
I’ve been watching her for days, switching off with Simon when I’m too tired to trust myself to stay awake. Not a single time did she come close to noticing either of us.
Damien looks me over, rocking his jaw from side to side. “If you really believe that you are seriously underestimating her.”
I drag the chair across the table closer and drop into it, keeping my focus on his face. “She’s not like the women around here. She doesn’t understand how dangerous this place can be.” I swipe one hand over my burning eyes. “Not that it would matter if she did.” It’s what’s kept me close by since Rodney tried to snatch her from the bar. Lydia is too determined for her own good. Even if she did know someone was bad, it wouldn’t stop her if she thought they could help her get Myra away.
“I think you’re wrong.” Damien hooks one arm over the back of his chair, angling his body in the seat. “I think she has a better idea of how fucked-up this world is than most people.” He tips his head my way. “Just like you did.”
I don’t like how easily he compares us. The information I’ve offered my brothers about Lydia is limited. And it doesn’t include our shared past. That would bring them too close to questioning how we reconnected and discovering the secret Simon, Tate, and I have been keeping from them.
“She might understand how fucked-up people can be, but she’s not used to men who would just as soon slit your throat as they would walk away from you.” She’s used to men hiding behind suits and smiles, using twisted words to do their dirty work instead of fists and guns.
Damien tips his hands out in a halfhearted shrug. “All I know is she assumed I knew Rodney. That he’d sent me to follow her.” One corner of his mouth turns up. “At least that’s what she claimed when she confronted me.”
I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.
Damien is a big guy, bigger than me, but he’s clean-cut and well dressed in a way I am not. He doesn’t technically look as intimidating as Rodney, but learning she believed he was involved and still didn’t back down is both impressive and terrifying.
“What did you tell her?” My plan was to fly under the radar. To watch over Lydia without her knowing I was there. I’m grown enough to know what I’m doing is crossing more than a few lines. And I don’t want her to figure out that the difference between me and Rodney isn’t as big as she thinks it is.
It's also not as big as my brothers think it is.
“What do you think I told her?” Damien downs the last of his drink before setting it on the table. “I told her the truth.”
I’m not surprised.
It’s one of many things that have changed dramatically over the past few years. Domestication definitely suits my brothers, but it has also made them more honest than I wish they were right now.
“Great.” I rake one hand through my hair before scrubbing it down my face, trying to wipe away the lingering exhaustion I can’t seem to shake. “I’m sure she was real fuckin’ happy to hear that.”
Damien grabs his computer and slides it into his work bag. “Actually, she didn’t seem bothered by it all.” He zips the laptop into place and stands up. “Not that I think it’s tough to beat out being stalked by someone who’s threatened to rape you, but she didn’t seem to hate finding out you were the reason I was here.”
Again, I’m not sure how relieved I should be. My interest in Lydia should be limited to only how I can help her and Myra. I should still be thinking of her as a kid. The little sister I never had.
I sure as shit shouldn’t be toeing the line of obsession the way I am.
“Of course, my interpretation of the situation could be all wrong.” Damien grabs his bag and gives me a wink. “My tab’s in your name.” He strides away, leaving me sitting alone at the table.
Alone with the knowledge Lydia now knows I’ve had eyes on her day and night.
“What can I get you, darlin’?” An unfamiliar waitress sidles up to my table, her drawl a little too pronounced to be completely real.
I twist in my chair, scanning the bar. “Where’s the waitress that was here before?”
The woman’s expression falls. “Lydia? Her shift’s over. She’s probably takin’ the trash out before she goes.” She inches in a little closer, and when she bends over, her ample tits test the boundaries of her low-cut shirt. “But I’m sure I can take care of you just as well as she did.”
Shit.
I shove up from my chair, yanking a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet and dropping it onto the table to settle Damien’s tab, before I rush across the floor, ignoring the bartender’s protest as I push through the swinging door into the employee-only portion of the building.
I want to smirk, but not until I have Lydia in my sights. Damien definitely read that situation wrong and I can’t wait to rub it in his face. His wife Josie is sweet and soft, but she’s still nothing like Lydia.
