14
Rowan
The Table Tapbar was on the grungier side as my typical meeting spots went. The smell of booze and sweat hung thickly in the dimly lit space. Bodies gyrated to gritty rock music on the dance floor off to the side. The gin in my gin and tonic definitely wasn’t top shelf.
But I went where the people I was trying to win over wanted, and tonight Ezra had me on a very precarious assignment, so I wasn’t going to raise any complaints. I’d come out to a town about an hour outside Paradise City to talk with a representative for a gang called the Demon’s Wings, which operated out of a city farther west.
After hearing about the attack on Wylder right within our turf, his dad had decided we needed to bring more manpower to bear so we could crush the Steel Knights once and for all. If Colt could make new connections, so could we. But first we—or rather, I—had to persuade them we’d make it worth their while. My work bringing in the waterfront project seemed to have convinced Ezra that he could entrust me with that responsibility.
For both his sake and all of ours, I intended to prove him right.
I checked my watch. I always liked to be early to a meeting just so I could get a feel of the place, especially when it was one I’d never been to before. The Demon’s Wings rep should be here soon, though. I scanned the figures around me in case he already was here, waiting for me to spot him, but none of the young, college-partier type clientele seemed a likely fit.
I wasn’t just here to negotiate with the guy, of course. Ezra had also pointed out that since we didn’t know for sure who Colt had turned to, I should first feel him out to ensure they weren’t already backing the Steel Knights.
The Demon’s Wings were close to the Nobles in power and influence. We’d never had any conflicts with them. I couldn’t think of any reason they’d bother throwing their lot in with Colt, but there were a lot of things about this situation that didn’t make much sense, so we couldn’t discount the possibility entirely.
Most likely, the real problem was going to be the price. Nobody would step up in our battle unless they got something in return. I just hoped whatever they asked for, that price wasn’t too steep.
I was just raising my glass to my lips again when a smashing sound made me flinch in my seat. Images flashed through my head—gunshots, the glass in my hand shattering. The two men springing at us in the alley beyond the restaurant the other night. Mercy clutching her stomach, blood seeping out from under her fingers.
With my pulse suddenly beating twice as fast, I jerked around in my seat. But it was nothing. Someone on the dance floor must have dropped their shot glass. The guy from the bar was already coming around to sweep it up. He had to shoo away some of the idiots still dancing around the area obliviously.
I turned back to the table and took a deep breath. Sweat had broken out on my brow. For a second, I closed my eyes, willing down the surge of horror that had flooded me out of nowhere.
It was nothing. And Mercy was fine. The wound she’d taken had been shallow, not even requiring stitches. I’d seen her just before I’d left, taking up Kaige’s invitation to play a game of pool.
Remembering that didn’t exactly make me feel better. I couldn’t deny the twinge of jealousy that wavered through my other emotions.
I’d tried so hard to dismiss what I still felt for her, but I couldn’t ignore it anymore. The thought of her in danger set off a jolt of panic, the sight of her wounded made my heart ache, and knowing she’d enjoyed at least one of the other guy’s companionship in ways that used to only be reserved for me had that jealousy twisting my gut.
Nothing that had happened all those years ago had been her fault. I’d known that all along. It’d just been easier to lump her in with the rest since I couldn’t have her anyway.
And now… Now it didn’t matter. After the way I’d abandoned her, how could she ever look at me with the same affection? I’d lost her when I left her, and that hadn’t changed.
She was never going to be mine again.
I swallowed down the pain of that knowledge and checked myself over. Shit. When I’d startled, my drink had splashed the sleeve of my dress shirt, leaving a wet blotch. So much for keeping a professional appearance.
I grabbed a napkin and pressed it to the spot, soaking up as much of the moisture as I could. Despite the mechanical whir of an air conditioning system, the air was warm, but I pulled on my suit jacket to cover the stain anyway. Better I was a little uncomfortable than look sloppy.
As I tugged the jacket sleeves straight, a burly man I placed in his early thirties—a little older than most of the crowd—strode into the bar. His polo shirt and slacks didn’t stand out as much as my suit did, but he still looked more business-minded than anyone else here. And I spotted a tattoo poking from beneath the shirt’s raised collar.
I stood up, and his gaze fixed on me. He sauntered over casually and confidently. I felt my back pulling straighter automatically to match his assured air.
“You must be from the Demon’s Wings,” I said when he was close enough that I could talk under the music, and offered my hand. “I’m Rowan Finlay, Mr. Noble’s representative. It’s a pleasure.”
The man shook my hand firmly. “Eric Vale. I can speak for Mr. Herald as needed. Does this place work for you?”
Did he think I was going to risk the alliance by kicking up a fuss within a minute of greeting him? I pushed a mild smile onto my face. “I think it serves our purposes just fine. Let me cover the first round of drinks. What are you having?”
At the pleased gleam that entered Eric’s eyes, I knew I’d already won some points with him. “A Jack and Coke would be perfect. Thanks.”
I flagged the waitress. I’d given her an advance tip to make sure the service she gave us would be quick and attentive. She took my order with a bright smile and had the drinks to us before Eric had quite settled into his chair. Money greased a lot of wheels no matter what kind of establishment you were in.
I waited until Eric had sipped his drink, taking a tiny one of my own. “So,” I said. “Let’s get down to business.”
Eric eyed me. “Yes, I’m interested to hear exactly what this business is. We were surprised when Mr. Noble reached out.”