AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Come on.” I take her coffee and gesture to the mattress. “I wanna have that coffee in bed.”
Obliging, Payton climbs up. When she’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed I hand her back her mug, then seat myself with my back against the headboard, so we’re mostly facing each other.
We both take sips.
“Sorry, I didn’t have any creamer,” I apologize, thinking this is nothing like her favorite latte.
“It’s okay. I like coffee in all its forms.”
I hum, not sure if I really believe that. “Make a list of all the things you’d like to have in the house.”
Payton’s shaking her head before I even finish. “You don’t need to do that. Black coffee is seriously fine. I drink it like that at home all the time.”
“At your old home,” I correct her. “And I don’t just mean creamers. You need food. Things to eat when you don’t want to order something. And whatever you need to make your coconut honey lattes.”
“Well, to make it right, I’d need an espresso machine. And those are crazy expen––”
“Already have one,” I cut her off.
Her mouth drops. “Really?”
“Really.”
“You know how to use one?”
I find myself smiling again. “Not a clue.”
She looks even more stunned. “Then why do you have one?”
“It was a housewarming gift from King. He said it made me look smarter.”
She laughs, and the sound lodges itself behind my ribs. “That might be true if you’d actually used it.” She takes another sip before asking, “I take it you’ve known each other awhile?”
I nod as I think about how to start. “I was fifteen the first time we met, which would’ve put him around nineteen.”
“So, a long time ago, Mr. I-Just-Turned-Forty.”
I give her a fake glare and she gives me a sweet smile.
“Okay so you were fifteen…?”
“I was fifteen and working for the Russians.”
“The Russians?”
“Russian mafia. Bratva,” I explain. No secrets. “I started as a runner, carrying money for them when I was just a kid. I think I was like eight.”
“So young,” she says sadly and I shrug.
“Typical story. Bad home life. Bad attitude. Lured in by the money and power of the brotherhood. Wanting someplace to belong.” I can see the sympathy forming in Payton’s eyes, and for the first time ever, it doesn’t bother me. “When I met King, I was a soldier, and he was working for the Irish, doing pretty much the same thing. Except he wasn’t the usualmobstertype.” I use Payton’s term from the other day. “He came from a well-off family, wasn’t a stray with no last name like me.”
“No last name?” Payton stops me.
“Must’ve had one at some point. But I was dumped at the church doors before I knew it.” When she looks like she might cry I reach out and squeeze her knee. “It’s not something to dwell on, Baby. It is what it is.”
She lays a hand over mine. “Still sucks.”
My lips pull up on one side. “And look what I’ve become.”
