“Actually,” Dax grabs my wrist and brings me to a stumbling halt, “she’s not working tonight. I was hoping to explain things toMr Girard myself, but if he’s not here, we’ll be on our way.” Dax nudges his head toward the exit.
I yank my arm back and wince at the sting. “Wait a minute. I’m on the schedule.”
Dax doesn’t seem to understand my point. He shrugs. “Now you’re off the schedule.”
“But I want my shift. I need that money.”
“You don’t. I’ll compensate you,” he insists flippantly. For the first time since I met him, I think I dislike him. His high handedness is one thing, but that he doesn’t even try to understand this from my perspective irritates the hell out of me.
“I don’t want your compensation. I can earn my keep. I already owe you both as it is!”
“For what?” he laughs, and the sound of his incredulity only infuriates me more.
“For the eighty-ish pounds of groceries that my dad trashed, and ice creams, and that burger and fries you made me eat in the car. I’m keeping a tally.” I list them out on my fingers and almost add the phone, but I plan on handing that back so it’s only on loan for now. Unless the twins break it.God, what’ll that cost me?
Dax laughs again but pulls out his phone and starts typing as he speaks. “Jules, none of that stuff is important.”
“It is to me,” I insist, glaring at him until he bothers to look up at me.
He eyes me curiously. “Then fine. You keep a tally and when we’re ready to total it all up, we can balance the books.” There’s a smirk creeping across his crooked lips that insists he’s already won this battle. His confidence slows me down. I re-evaluate my stance. Am I wrong to trust him? Does he have something on me? Or has he been deliberately putting me in his debt?
“What does that mean, exactly?”
He smirks. “It means,little gem, I owe you a life debt. I owe you more than I can ever pay you. You saved my brother. No amount you calculate will ever equate to that.”
Could that be true? Does he really feel he owes me a life debt? What does that entail anyway? Is he making himself responsible for my life? That’s insane. No. I won’t allow it. I won’t let another man make decisions for me or control me like that…even if his intentions are…what? Good? Better than Dad’s? Honourable? Fuck if I know. Even if I understood any of this, I wouldn’t want any of the arseholes in this bar knowing it too. Dax has already said too much.
My eyes scan the bar. It’s quiet and although there are more than a few pairs of ears perked up and tuned into our conversation, they’re nobody I know. Even Gresh’s stool sits unclaimed tonight. Probably for the best. He’d have reported our conversation straight to Dad—the one person who could put a cash amount on a life debt without a flicker of remorse.
Maybe it’s a good idea to get out of here, after all.
“Screw it. I’m not even going to argue with you right now,” I tell Dax. “If I’m not working tonight, what exactly do you need me to do?”
Dax’s wide smile lights up his face. Why do I want to smile back? I’m seriously pissed at this man, but his charm offensive is impressively on point.
“There’s someone I think you’ll want to see,” he teases. Admittedly, I’m curious enough to bite.
I follow him to the door but turn to ask the guys if they’ll be okay. They shoo me out of the building, probably happy to get rid of the drama Aiden and Dax invite just by their presence. Movement near the men’s bathroom catches my attention. Someone small and fast ducks behind the wall. For a split second, I’m convinced I saw Geesh’s beady eyes watching me, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to turn up here tonight after Dax’s warning, would he?
“Everything okay? Aiden asks, patiently holding the rear passenger door.
“Uh, yeah…Sorry.”
“Climb in.”
I sink into the soft, rich leather of the backseat and take a couple of deep breaths. Should I warn Dax about Gresh? If he really was there and I hadn’t imagined him, he’ll have been spying for Dad. Could he have heard what Dax said?Yes. Would he tell Dad?Probably. But if I never went back home, if I never stepped foot in Dad’s house again, what could he really do? The kids are safe. Mum seems to be safe, and I’m…figuring shit out as I go.
So, is it worth mentioning and risking Dax turning around and marching in there to deal with the little gargoyle when it’d be too late anyway?Nope.
I’d rather confirm one of my other suspicions first.
“Mum wasn’t at work when you found her, was she?” I ask. Really, either of them can answer the question. Though Aiden was with me, I’ve no doubt he knows whatever Dax knows. There’s no hierarchy between the two. Sure, Aiden acts like he works for Dax, but there’s a mutual respect between them that puts them level with each other. It’s odd and, honestly, none of my business. As long as one of them answers my questions, I don’t much care.
Aiden avoids my question with one of his own. “Why do you think that?”
I indulge him. “She was well-dressed, wearing makeup, and seemed more annoyed than worried. There’s also the fact that she suddenly has a friend to go to.”
“She doesn’t have friends?”
