Page 25 of Her Guardian
“Boss lady? Aye, lad. Ye mean Massimo’s new bride!” he exclaims. “Pleasure to meet ye, lass. What’re the two of ye drinking?”
“You know what I want,” Boyd says, walking up, clearing some space, and straddling a stool. “She likes fruity drinks.”
“I know just the thing,” Freddy says, spinning around and limping toward the liquor selection.
Lea introduced Massimo’s best friend, Rowan, as the meanest motherfucker in a kilt. I guess that makes Freddy the meanestbartenderin a kilt. I’m not sure if he’s mean. He seems rather pleasant.
I look around the Broken Lily while Freddy fixes our drinks. It’s not what I’d call a dive, but it’s close. There’s a jukebox to my right, next to a small kitchen area, but it looks closed. There aresome arcade games next to the kitchen, and a lot of tables for customers. The bathrooms aren’t marked, but there’s a pair of red lacy panties nailed to one door and a big purple dildo nailed to the other one—an interesting way of identifying them.
“Did you spend a lot of time here when you were younger?” I ask, finally looking back at Boyd.
“Freddy, she wants to know if I spent a lot of time here when I was younger,” Boyd chuckles, motioning to the bartender.
“Aye, he did,” Freddy laughs. “Couldn’t get rid of the lad. Rowan, Massimo, Leo, and Boyd. The Four Musketeers! Sometimes it was five, when Emilio tagged along.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize you were so close with Massimo,” I remark.
“Used to be,” Boyd grunts. “We were kids back then, though. Things were never quite the same after Leo’s girlfriend died and he… lost it for a while.”
“Jessica, aye,” Freddy says, walking over with the drinks and putting them down. “Lovely lass. Such a shame.”
Boyd’s drink looks like whiskey, but I assume it’s scotch since that’s what he normally drinks. Mine is blue with a yellow umbrella. Not the kind of drink I expected in a place like this. I take a sip, tasting pineapple, coconut, and lemon lime soda. It’s really good—and strong.
“What happened to her?” I ask, glancing back and forth between them. “Or is it one of those things you can’t talk about?”
“She got sick,” Boyd says. “Went downhill really fast. One day Leo was talking about asking her to marry him, while all of usgave him shit about being too young to get married. The next, she was in the hospital, fighting for her life.”
“Leo took it hard. Poor lad,” Freddy adds. “He loved the lass. Everybody knew that, even this big oaf.”
Freddy leans across the bar and playfully backhands Boyd’s arm. Boyd nods in agreement.
“Yeah, he did,” Boyd admits. “So much that he became a priest after she died. Not immediately, but that was how he dealt with it. Still dealing with it, I guess.”
“If ye don’t mind, I need to go deal with some deliveries in the back,” Freddy says, wiping down the counter and leaving the rag. “Holler if you need more drinks.”
“Thanks, Freddy,” Boyd says.
Boyd lights a cigarette after Freddy goes into the back, so I take a few hits from my vape and sip my drink. This drink will have me in bed before noon if I’m not careful, so it’s a one-drink morning.One-drink morning, like this is normal for me. I sure hope it doesn’t become normal.
I’m alone with Boyd, again. Stealing glances, again. Thinking about things I shouldn’t,again. He spanked me this morning. I watched him kick doors in and threaten people. I bet that’s just a normal morning for him. I should be running away from Big Mafia Boyd and Las Vegas as fast as I can.
But I don’t want to. I can’t make myself do it. Instead of running, I reach across the space between us. I put my hand on his. A tingle shoots through my body like the contact creates electricity out of thin air. Boyd’s hand stiffens like he’s going to pull away,but he doesn’t. He rubs the tip of my finger and exhales sharply, taking another drag from his cigarette.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” I say, feeling a flutter in my chest.
“You don’t have to thank me, Sarah,” he mumbles. “Like you said, it wasn’t just about you.”
“I’m not just talking about that,” I sigh, sipping my drink. “I’m talking about this morning, too. I didn’t mean to oversleep and make you worry, but the notes were my fault. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
Nothing like seeing Boyd in action to understand what danger really looks like. What would I do if someone like Boyd kicked in my door, angry because I mentioned one of their crimes on my podcast? That would be it for me. Dead? Missing without a trace? I have to be really careful, and having Boyd approve everything doesn’t seem like such a hindrance anymore.
Plus, it means I get to spend more time with him.
I like that part, too.
CHAPTER 10
Boyd
